Dedicated to ADaniel_SapporeSiaw for being a bud. 

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Chapter 26: More Stubborn Than a Democrat and Brighter Than a Flamingo

"Oh, that reminds me, we were invited to my cousin's house for Thanksgiving dinner. Do you want to go?" Dad mentioned casually, tossing an empty milk container into the recycling bin.

I looked up from my history book. "We were? Which cousin?"

"Joanna. Do you remember her?"

I shook my head. "No idea."

"She's the one with the mohawk"—he made a gesture with his hands that suggested the height of her hairdo—"and that weird bird tattoo on her arm. I don't know if she still has the Mohawk, but the tattoo's definitely still there."

The image of her hot pink mohawk dawned on me and I awed in realization. "Oh! How is she?"

He shrugged. "You can ask her if we go."

I was still unsure if I wanted to spend my Thanksgiving with actual family. It would be new. "How old is she?"

He shrugged again. "Maybe in her late twenties or early thirties?" he estimated. "She's married now."

"Really? She's married?"

I let that sink in. Joanna never seemed like the type of person to settle down. But then again, maybe it was the mohawk that persuaded me. I never really knew her, just her outspoken appearance.

"Mhm. Little Jo's all grown up," Dad reminisced. I wasn't sure what about because he told me he wasn't particularly close to any of his cousins, but there was a thin glaze over his eyes that suggested he was remembering a childhood memory.

"So, you want to go?"

"We don't have to," he answered evasively.

"We can go, Dad."

"Really?" The laugh lines around his mouth had aged, but they were heartwarming to see nonetheless.

"Really. You're the adult here."

We shared a laugh. "I suppose I am...I just don't want you to be uncomfortable. You barely know these people. I guess that's my fault. I should've taken you to visit more."

"Stop blaming yourself. I didn't want to visit family. They obviously didn't care about us either, because until now, we haven't heard from them."

"Charlotte..."

"It's true!"

"I'm just happy they're reaching out."

I nodded, unsure of what to say next. "Well," I started awkwardly, "I'm going to go get ready. What time are we leaving?"

"Let's see. It'll take an hour or so to get there and dinner starts at six, so maybe four-thirty?"

"Sounds good, Dad."

The beam on his face was worth all the suffering I'd have to endure in the next twenty-four hours.

***

Joanna's was not at all what I expected it to be. I thought there would be dozens of garden gnomes littering the flowerbed, but there wasn't a single one in sight. Instead of a wild jungle of tall grass and plastic flamingos (she was obsessed with them back then), I saw a thin blanket of snow draped over what looked like a well-taken care of lawn. It was actually ordinary.

There were already cars lined up in the driveway and beside the curb. Apparently it's customary to arrive earlier. We were ahead of schedule and arrived forty-five minutes before dinner despite the traffic. Dad could weave his way through a highway of cars. I jokingly proposed that he should've been a cab driver, and then he dove into a story of how he wanted to be a "cabbie" to meet the rich, the famous, and the beautiful. His younger self was a dreamer. Sometimes I wished that I could've met him in his tender years. I bet he succumbed to all kinds of peer pressure with the snap of a finger. That sounded wrong, but it was true. The man's a pushover.

These people hadn't seen us in years, so when they weren't fussing over the baby, they were striking up conversations with us. Most of my answers were brief, a result of the nervousness I felt from wanting to leave a good impression of myself. It was apparent that Dad was having a ball. He seemed so in his element; he clicked with them. There were a couple kids my age, but I had yet to meet them. Joanna told me they were hiding from the rest of the Summers clan. I didn't blame them.

Joanna changed drastically. I found out her natural hair color was a pretty brown. I could have a conversation with her and not be distracted by numerous gaudy piercings or obscure hairstyles. She's been married for six years to a carpenter named Mark. They had two eight year old boys; twins.

"Wow, Charlotte! Look at you!" Joanna exclaimed, catching me in an embrace. "You're all grown up. The last time I saw you was when you were eating mashed potatoes with your bare hands!"

I had completely forgotten about that humiliating incident, so being reminded of it was wonderful. Note the sarcasm, please. It was ten years ago, I was seven, and my love for potatoes was especially strong that year. It was the last time we ate with family—I'm pretty sure my dad was too embarrassed to take me to any other events where they wanted their potatoes unsoiled. Anyways, my favorite kind of potato was the mashed-at-home kind. They weren't that mushy, porridge-y crap that came from a box. I was so excited that when all the adults were out of the room, I took the big bowl and shoved my hand into the starchy mess and scooped the contents into my mouth. For the rest of the weekend I was known as "tater tot."

I laughed, trying to force humor into my voice. "Yeah. So how have you been?"

She nodded and smiled to herself. "I've been great. I don't know if you remember what I was like before I met Mark, but I wasn't exactly the perfect seed." She looked around to make sure the people around us were caught up in their own conversations before continuing. "I wasn't a bad person. I was just, you know, out there. I mean, what kind of girl gets a tattoo of a bird?" She rolled up her sleeve and revealed a silver inked bird. I wouldn't get one myself, but I had to admit that it was pretty. "I wasn't serious about anything—my education, my future. I lived in the moment. That worked great for a little while, but then the consequences caught up to me. I don't want to sound all cheesy or anything, but it's going to come out that way no matter how I word it. Mark saved me from myself."

 "You're right. That does sound cheesy."

"I told you it would."

"So what are you trying to tell me? Is this your subtle way of telling me to get a boyfriend?"

"Oh, no! Not at all! I was just telling you my story. That's all. There's no underlying meaning. And there's no rush to find love."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, there is one thing. Don't seek it. It'll come to you."

"We're still talking about love, right?"

"Right."

After my strangely satisfying yet confusing chat with Joanna, her twin boys swooped in and found a new playmate in me. They invited me to their room to play with their collection of LEGO bricks. Joanna told me it was their recent obsession. There was no complaint from me.

Logan was the rowdiest of the two. With his toy dinosaurs, he crushed the buildings he'd constructed until they crumbled into individual pieces. Sound effects were included. Noah was quieter and more artistic. I saw an architect as a future career path for him, but then again, he was only seven. His interests could change. For someone so young, he sure had a keen eye for intricacy.

"That's mine!" Logan screamed, snatching back the red block.

Noah glared at his brother. "We're supposed to share, Logan," he scolded.

The scorn in his eyes startled me. "But they're mine."

"I'm telling Mom!" Noah threatened, raising his voice.

"Don't! I'll share," he grumbled, reluctantly handing me back the block.

 "It's all right," I said. "I think dinner's soon anyways."

Logan shrugged and went back to building his tower. I stood up and as I was walking out I heard Noah say to Logan, "Nice job. You scared her away."

"Who cares?"

"Okay."

They were just darling.

Dinner went well. I engaged in small talk and aside from the occasional chatter, you could hear nothing but chewing and a crying baby. I was grateful—no, thankful—for that. Dad and I escaped shortly after dessert, which consisted of the classic pumpkin pie, a variety of cookies, and an array of pastries. The cupcakes we brought remained untouched, except for the ones that Noah accidentally knocked to the ground when reaching for a chocolate chunk cookie. He apologized profusely and immediately cleaned up his mess.

I'd say it was a successful Thanksgiving.

***

The beginning of December had passed in a hoary blur. The thriving grass was now compressed by the weight of the heavy snow. Christmas lights had already gone up and evergreen trees were being exterminated for the brief but joyous holiday season. Addison had been transformed into a twinkling, wintry town. 

And what better way to embrace the snow than with spending a lighthearted today with a heavyhearted soul. I invited Tyler to go sledding, something that was skipped in his childhood to-do list. As much as I loved the deep conversations I had with him, we needed to have some fun too. Besides, I didn't want to be that girl or his diary.

I loaded two green saucers into the trunk of my car and headed to the local snow hill. Addison was a fairly flat town, so the hill was almost never empty when winter activities began. Tyler was waiting in the parking lot. Once he saw me, he got out of the car and started walking. I handed him a sled and tucked the slippery plastic underneath my heavy jacket.

"Ready?" I asked smiling, looking up at the colorful marshmallow-y figures that dotted the hill.

  He shrugged. "Sure. It's not like this is a momentous life event."

"It is too!" I disagreed loudly. "There is nothing like your first sled!"

"It's not a big deal, Char. It's like a big, snowy slide."

I couldn't disagree with that, because that's basically what sledding was. And I knew I was blowing the entire "life-event" way out of proportion, because let's face it; you could live without ever going sledding. People in the hot, Southern states never got any frozen water never complained. Then again, some of them escaped there to get away from winter.

I guess you could say that sledding went well. Though Tyler made no effort to show that he was enjoying himself, he also didn't make an effort to leave, which I thought was a good sign. I assumed an awful lot when I was with him, but it's not like he was one to tell me what he was feeling. Sure, his deepest, darkest secrets were good enough for me but not his current mood. I will admit that he's complicated and tough, but not bulletproof enough for me to crack. I'd get him to trust someone.

We didn't sled as much as I had hoped. There was a line, after all. Tyler subtly let a couple of kids go before us. He sort of stepped back, pulled me with him, and started a conversation so I wouldn't notice them pass us. Tyler was a softie when it came to kids. I noticed that all members of the Top Five had the potential to be good fathers. Even Ian seemed like he could pull it together. If not, he always had the option of hiring a nanny. I guess they all had to know it was a possibility. Otherwise they'd be complete imbeciles, Alec included.

My mittens were sopped and glazed over with tiny clumps of ice crystals. A couple of years ago, I had the bright idea to taste one of them, thinking it would taste like fresh snow. I was wrong. So, so wrong. Have you ever smelled gloves, mittens, or hats once you're done playing in the snow? Well, I have and it sort of tastes like that. The only comparison I can think of right now is clean clothing that's been left on the floor too long. It's somewhat clean but not really. I shook the ice off. I rubbed my cotton-covered hands together to scrape off the remaining stubborn ones.

There was only so many times you could climb up the hill before you became tired, cold, and thought the entire cycle was monotonous and unworthy of your energy. We stopped sledding and I suggested that we do other activities that people did when they came to sled. Off to the side of the bottom of a hill was a flat field that was used for making snowfamilies, but most were too lazy and just built the man; rolling around in the snow to produce snow angels (Emma's angels had an imprint of her butt on the skirt); and building forts and crafting snowballs. I planned to strike Tyler when he least expected it.

Unfortunately, packing snow was basically non-existent today. We built a sad-looking, miniature snowman. He was already crumbling and sliding apart, to which Tyler had the brilliant solution of propping him up with dirt, sticks, and whatever else we could find. I slid a stick through his body to serve as both arms because I was afraid his tiny body couldn't take any more weight. By the time we were done and feeling satisfied, we took a step back and admired it. Well, tried to admire it. There was little to admire because a four-year old could've done a better job.

"We suck," Tyler concluded bluntly.

"Amen to that."

We contemplated squishing it and putting him and all other future spectators out of their misery, but I didn't want all of our effort to be put to be waste. So we left it alone, hoping that someone would "accidentally" crush it with a) their sled b) their body c) your choice of destructive weaponry.

Snow angels were a brief affair. We only made one. I never understood why people enjoyed making them. It was boring, cold, and didn't really resemble an angel unless you tilted your head, closed one eye, and then shut the other.

"You know what I've always wanted to do?" Tyler asked me.

I couldn't help but scream "Progress!" in my head. "What's that?" I asked him.

"It's sort of cheesy and childish and lame."

"Oh, come on. Tell me. I'll probably think it's endearing."

"I just thought it was always cool that kids got to go on treasure hunts."

"Like a scavenger hunt?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Like you follow a map and at the end you get this treasure. Think pirates, Char."

I smiled warmly. "That's really cool. Thanks for telling me."

"I mean, I don't expect you to do anything with this information. I guess I sort of just wanted to tell someone."

"You don't want me to do something about it?"

"No! That wouldn't be very fun."

I frowned. "Why not?"

"No offense, Char, but you just don't seem like the type of person who would be good at planning out intricate kid stuff."

Ouch. "I planned this out, didn't I?"

"We're sledding. There's not much to plan."

"I think I should be getting home."

He shrugged and handed me the sled. "Thanks."

I resisted the urge to scowl as I took back the plastic disc. I turned around and schlepped myself through the snow and into my car.

"I told you not to take it personally, Summers," Tyler called out to me.

I ignored him.