Chapter 36: Many Thanks Given

Thursday, November 22, 1984

Thanksgiving, for us, started about the same time as any other day. We were up and out of bed just before eight. Jas beat Angie and Paige to the bathroom by just enough for them to complain, particularly since Jas let me sneak in before they could. In my defense, I usually took less time than any of them. None of them were the kind to take all that long in the bathroom, though.

Mom had breakfast on the table when we got there. One thing that had changed over time was the kitchen table. Mom and Dad had gotten two slightly mismatched chairs and had them ready so all six of us could sit and eat at once. It was a bit cozy, but it worked.

It was also a far cry from my first life. I couldn’t remember there being more than three of us at that table before this life. Realistically, it must have happened, since Grandmother and Professor Berman had come to Houston (just once, but still) to visit, but I couldn’t remember how that had been.

Oh, my ex-wife had stayed in the house a handful of times, but that hadn’t pushed up the count. As far as I could remember, Dad and Mom had never sat at the table with both of us. It might have been the case that me, my ex-wife, and both kids had sat there, but I was pretty sure that, too, had never happened. I was pretty sure the kids had never actually slept in this house until after Mom had passed away and Dad had gone into the hospital, never to return. We’d always just stayed in hotels once we had the kids.

The dining room table was more spacious, of course, but this was the cozy kitchen table, the canonical place to eat breakfast. It was cozy, too. There was a certain happiness in Mom and Dad that I would’ve missed had I not lived for so many years without it. It was a happiness that came from approving of my girlfriend (and, of course, approving of Angie’s, too). Until this life, I hadn’t even known this sort of happiness was a possibility.

After we’d eaten breakfast (Mom had gone pretty much ‘all out,’ as she tended to do for things like this), we got going on Thanksgiving cooking. By this point, Mom was used to our taking over a lot of things, and that was especially true now that we had Jas and Paige added to the mix. Jas and I were in charge of the turkey, my now-required spinach casserole, and the cranberry chutney. We made extras of the last two to bring to the Nguyens. Ang and Paige had the wild rice, mashed potatoes, yams, and a pumpkin pie (making an extra pie and more rice). Mom had a few things of her own, plus she supervised everyone else.

Many hands make light work. That’s what they say, anyway, and it was true for us. Dad hung out in the kitchen much more than he would have at one time. After all, that’s where the life of the house was. He’d have been off by himself with the five of us laughing and joking and carrying on in the kitchen, and that was no way to be.

We had everything on the table by just after noon. That timing worked for us since we had ‘Second Thanksgiving’ coming up. We needed some time to digest.

As always, we went around the table and briefly said what we were thankful for. It really hadn’t changed much since last year, which felt good. This was, after all, the second year for Paige and Angie being together at Thanksgiving and the third for Jas and me. Things were stable. There were a few little additions — we each mentioned our scholarships, for instance — but nothing that was big.

I had some extras in my head (Michael becoming a friend was one; so was the success of P.C.’s Limited). Like last year, Laura was another silent addition, one that I’m sure Angie shared. I’m sure each of the others had their own little extras, too. Jas, I know, had a silent little thanks that I was here (as ‘me’ and not some other, presumably lesser, me).

There might not be any big changes until marriage or kids entered the picture. Oh, if we somehow got to Dell’s IPO without any marriage plans being made, that would make the list, but I was increasingly sure that we would at least be engaged by then.

After we’d finished the meal, Dad got on the phone with Grandmother and Professor Berman. Neither Grandmother nor Professor Berman had felt like they wanted to make the trip to Uncle Robert’s house this year, so they’d had their Thanksgiving dinner at the cafeteria. Uncle Robert, Aunt Monica, Kenneth, and Ryan had joined them, though they would have another Thanksgiving at home.

They seemed to be doing well, and were in good spirits, but were (in Professor Berman’s words) ‘older than dirt and more tired than a three-toed sloth.’ After his health scare, everyone breathed a sigh of relief that things were going well.

We all knew it could only last so long. Angie and I knew that better than anyone else, but it was no secret that they were quite old and in precarious health.

All that said, Grandmother had outlasted her first husband by over thirty-seven years at this point. Nor had she been all that young when she’d had Dad, much less Frank. Professor Berman was older than she was, too. That they were doing well was the surprise, not that they were old and tired.

Jas and I, and Angie and Paige, left around four so that we could help out with dinner at ‘the in-laws.’ I was looking forward to hearing how things went with Ted and how his girlfriend was. Hopefully, there would be no Thanksgiving fights.

I was also apprehensive about Andrew. Oh, I didn’t expect a fight. Camille would never tolerate that, and her stance on things was crystal clear. However, I really didn’t want things to be uncomfortable, and I hoped we could get along. After all, he was (hopefully!) going to be my brother-in-law for many years to come.

Camille had the cooking well in hand when we got there, but we still pitched in. Jas and I had also brought the casserole and chutney. The casserole needed to go in the oven, but that was it.

Andrew was there and seemed a bit quiet and awkward. He didn’t help out much in the kitchen, either, but it’s possible that he wasn’t a good cook. At his age, first-life Steve was barely qualified to boil water or reheat leftovers, after all.

About half an hour in, Andrew gave me a look and then a nod towards the door. It didn’t seem threatening or hostile, so I went with it, following him out the door and down the hall. Jas picked up on it, of course, and I’m sure Camille did, too.

Once we were in his room, he said, “Look ... um ... I know some ... stuff ... got said.”

I just nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m ... really, I’m sorry,” he said. He looked pretty sincere about it, too. “It’s ... I...”

He stopped, sighed, and said, “I misjudged you and it was lousy of me.”

I smiled a bit and said, “For my part, I can forgive that easily. I’m guessing you were just being protective of Jasmine.”

He nodded, looking relieved.

“I’ve seen a lot of things,” he said. “People ... a lot of times, they just, you know ... it’s them thinking an Asian girl is ‘exotic’ and ‘mysterious’ and all of that. It’s not about who she is, it’s about what she is. Or it’s about her being ‘demure’ or ‘meek’ or all those stereotypes. It wouldn’t have been the first time for Jasmine, and ... well...”

He sighed again.

“I started realizing I’d misjudged you a while back, but it’d gotten awkward. Plus ... it’s ... there’s so much I never heard about. Some of it was me staying away, which is obviously not your fault. Some was just no one telling me things. Mama made it clear that I’d screwed up and misjudged you but...”

He paused, looked up, and said, “I heard more and more. Then, when I talked with her, it’s ... you’ve been great for her. That’s all I ever wanted.”

I smiled again, and said, “That’s all I ever wanted, too. Jas is special. It took her longer to see that than it took for me, I think, but we’re clear on it now.”

He chuckled a bit, looking relieved.

“I get that. She’s more confident now. More relaxed. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”

“I plan to,” I said, smiling.

“It ... honestly, the other thing that matters is ... well, this is my fault for not listening, but I missed that she was so close to your parents. No one does that if they’re not really serious. I guess I could’ve said that about Mama and Papa, but they’re...”

“Different,” I said, nodding.

“Getting all big-brother-y ... mess her up, break her heart, any of that, and we’ll have words. That’s what I meant to say a long time ago, and I thought it would come out wrong, ‘cuz ... well ... you’d pretty easily take me in a fight,” he said, chuckling.

I chuckled, too, while realizing two things. First: he was right. I probably would, unless he was a serious martial artist or the like. I had four or five inches and likely forty pounds on him, and I was in good shape. That connected to the second thing: I’d never thought that way. It was another of those mental blocks. I’d been ready to fight Max, and I was ready to dodge Joseph Clarke, but those each took a little thought. Part of my self-image was still that I’d probably lose if it came down to a fight.

He must have taken that as polite amusement, because he went on, saying, “The thing I realize now is that, even if I could kick your ass, I don’t think it would hurt you as much as messing her up or breaking her heart did.”

I nodded a little, saying, “It ... yeah. That would be bad. I’ve known that for years. You’d have to get in line, too. If I screwed things up with Jas, there’d be a long line of people out to kick my ass, including your mother. That I do not want to experience!”

He grinned a bit.

“Yeah. Mama’s scary when she wants to be!”

“Thanks,” I said. “I really appreciate you saying this. I plan to be around a long time, and I’d hate to not get along.”

He chuckled, smiling, and said, “See, if I’d realized you planned to be around a long time, we wouldn’t have gotten to this point. That was just me being pigheaded. I mean ... I said what I said, and I’m guessing you heard it, mostly...”

I nodded but didn’t say anything.

“But what I meant was someone who’d see ‘Jasmine’ and not ‘hot Vietnamese girl.’ Except, I think you always saw that. I’ve just seen it screwed up too many times.”

“It seems to be a pattern,” I said. “My friend Connie — Chau — Ng has been dating a gringo for four years, and it took her parents at least a couple of years to realize that they fit together perfectly and that his intentions were honorable and good.”

He nodded slowly.

“It seems dumb now,” he said. “Our family has got a lot of really French French people in it, and they’re all cool.”