Summary:Thanksgiving at the Parker house involves two new arrivals this year, and a surprise visitor. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Thanksgiving. An old American tradition, one long-followed in the Parker home.
This year in particular, Peter felt he had a lot to be thankful for.
Anya's grandmother, Mrs. Martinez, had been invited into their home. Aunt May had been enthusiastic about the idea, having "someone around my age to talk to."
It had been a busy day. Aunt May had really pulled out all the stops. That new hip was working better than he had hoped. Aunt May did say there would be at least one more dish, one courtsey of "Mrs. Martinez." Which reminded him, Anya was bringing her grandmother from the Triskelion for the first time. She had taken care of moving her grandmother's things, of course, and had set up the empty room, which already had some furniture, including a queen-size bed.
Peter dried his hands, and waited for the two "Hearts" to arrive.
It had been a busy time for Anya Corazon; she'd had to lean on some friends to keep an eye on Spanish Harlem, while helping her grandmother to decide which items were to move, which would go into storage, and which would be sold off on eBay and Craigslist. She'd also insisted on going to San Diego with her cousins, to help them get settled into their estranged mother's home out west.
SHIELD, of course, has done far more than should have ever been expected of them. This, perhaps their last favor, involved driving Anya and Teresa to the Parker residence; a home that, by all explanations, has nothing to do with the masked Spider-Man, but everything to do with a friendship between two science nerds that happened to form at that science fair so many months ago. Little white lies are rarely looked into, after all.
Leaving the car, Anya isn't dressed as she usually is; she's left behind the goth and punk mixture in favor of a pretty blue dress that has been cut for modesty; complete with black tights, matching blue heels, and a black leather jacket over the shoulders that is the sole reminder of her usual fashion sense. The mohawk seems to be in that awkward 'growing out' stage, with natural brunette roots showing behind the shock of pink growth that's been combed and matted down, giving her an almost androgynous hairstyle that is sufficiently 'Bowied up' by light makeup.
"Let me get that," she says of the covered dish, and takes it from her grandmother's hand so that she might help with the older woman's luggage as they approach the apartment door.
They don't even get as far as the front porch with its wide wooden high-backed swing before the door opens and Aunt May, a crickety young-old woman who is over 70 but looks closer to 50, steps out with a warm smile. Behind her is Peter, moving forward in a quick walk to help with the luggage.
"Hello, there," Aunt May says in accentless Spanish. "Welcome to both of you, and Happy Thanksgiving! We are so glad you could come."
Peter looked back, startled. He didn't know Aunt May spoke Spanish!
"May! Teresa steps forward and pulls the woman into a warm embrace. "Thank you so much for having us." She then switches to her broken English. "We use English, si? Anya says I need more practice."
Handing off the luggage to Peter, Anya smiles at him before stepping in to give Aunt May a hug in turn. "Aunt May. It is good to see you." Grinning, she turns toward Peter and says, "Guess you don't know everything do ya?"
Peter colored slightly. "I guess not." He hefted the luggage with some effort, mostly for Mrs. Martinez.
Aunt May chuckled. "A long time ago, Peter, I did a lot of house-cleaning jobs while your Uncle Ben was fighting in Vietnam, and I worked with a lot of people who came here from Mexico. They taught me Spanish, I taught them English while we worked." She smiled to Teresa. "And if you like, I can help you with yours." She smiled to Anya and Teresa, then said, "Come in! Come in! It's colder than a witch's kiss out here!" She went immediately to the front door, holding it open for Anya and Teresa, with Peter bringing up the rear."
"Anya and the boys are why I was to learn," Teresa explains. "Since they were learning in school. Si, si, yes, let's get inside!"
Following them inside, Anya hands the coveted dish off to her grandmother after helping her out of her coat. "I didn't know Uncle Ben was in Vietnam," she remakes, eyes widening. "Was he part of the protests before or after he came back?"
Aunt May talks while Peter brings all the luggage to Teresa's new room.
"My Benjy was a patriot. In the beginning, he was raring to go to serve his country. He had heard about some of wht was going on while he was in college, but he had that desire to go to where the trouble was, and see if he could 'make things right.' He was there for two tours of duty. He recieved the Silver Star and the Purple Heart. Courage under fire. He saved four of the men under his command, even wile being wounded himself." She sighed. "But it left its mark. He came home disillusioned. If was after he got home that he began protesting the war."
"So did most people," Anya says, clearly feeling a sense of solidarity with the late Uncle Ben. "It wasn't like World War II, after all. My father wasn't in the military, but he might as well have been. He was a journalist and got caught up in blowing the whistle on some cartel business in Mexico. That's why we moved here."
"Anya," Teresa says, a scolding tone in her voice.
Almost immediately, Anya's expression grows apologetic. "Sorry, Abuela," she says, then looks to Aunt May with an apologetic expression.
Aunt May smiles wryly. "It's all right, really. Benjy had been home for six months when the Pentagon Papers were published, and it had made him physically ill. Then it made him angry. He was a vocal opponent to the war until it finally ended." May smiles as she reminisces. "He was never afraid to do what was right. I like to think Peter learned that from him."
Peter stepped out again. "My ears were burning, someone say me name?"
May cackles. "Now then, Teresa, why don't you tell us what you have there, and then we can put it with the rest and show you your new home?"
"I am sad we never had a chance to meet him," Teresa assures Aunt May. "But he is looking after us all, just like… like everyone else who is not here."
As Peter returns, Anya gives him a knowing grin. "Nothing scandalous," she assures him, before turning back to the older women.
"It is not like normal American Thanksgiving," Teresa tells Aunt May, but the older woman is grinning. "This is flan. Authentic Mexican desert, and is much more tasty than your Pumpkin Pie!"
Anya watches as the two older women interact. As tough as she's tried to be these past couple of weeks, there is a brightness to her eyes that can only be caused by an increase in tear duct activity. "She's really happy," she says quietly to Peter. "I mean… she was gonna lose everything, you know? She's really happy."
How to resist another slice of homemade apple pie? That, and Aunt May had been a most gracious and kind host — last Steve had visited the household, he had been nearly overrun by memories of the grandmother down the hall in their Brooklyn tenement who took care of both him and Bucky when times were slimmer even than usual.
As such, with a strength-checked knock-knock-knock on the front door to the house, here's Steve. He's in a proper sky-blue dress-shirt beneath his motorcycle jacket and slacks, dress shoes instead of combat boots, and somehow? There's no street residue on anything he wears. Magic!
He's brought two loaves of soda bread he made himself, from his mother's recipe, still warm in their bundling of multiple kitchen towels.
Peter whispers back, "Yeah…and that's why Aunt May's happy, too. She told me that what she felt helping your grandmother, she might have an idea how I feel when I help people."
Aunt May take the dish, then beckons to Teresa to follow her into the kitchen. She places it next to her award-winning apple pie, which already has two large slice-gaps. Aunt May smiles knowingly. "I made something for a very special guest,.."
Then the knock comes, and Aunt May grins. "And here he is now!" She fairly skips out of the kitchen, heading towards the front door with a winning smile, and opens it to see Steve "Captain America" Rogers, dressed to the nines and looking heroic even in civilian clothes. Peter wondered how he could DO that.
"CAPTAIN ROGERS!" Aunt May almost crows. "Come in, come in! I want you to meet my new houseguest!" She indicates Anya and an older Hispanic lady. "This is Peter's college-friend, Anya Corazon, and her grandmother, Teresa Martinez, who is taking the spare room as of today. And Anya, Teresa…may I introduce Captain…uhm, AGENT Steve Rogers."
Turning from Peter to May and Teresa, Anya isn't quite aware that she's chewing on her bottom lip, her expression lost in some internal thought for more than a few moments. "Everything really has changed, hasn't it?" she asks quietly, and turns to look at Peter. "Hopefully for the better."
The optimism feels good. She's been lacking in it lately, but it feels good to find it again. The knock at the door ushers in a sense of confusion, and she looks from Aunt May to Peter with that confusion written across her face. Perhaps a touch of alarm is buried in there; some of her secrets were blown open, others barely holding on by a string. What could another house guest do to the tender balance? Sometimes it's a real drag, having a science brain and the emotional baggage of a young activist. The two mix well at times, and other times… well.
Mounting anxiety is let loose in the form of a quiet shriek when the door is opened. Anya reaches over to grab Peter's wrist, staring wide-eyed at the infamous Avenger in the doorway. Her shock is not shared by her grandmother, and as Teresa walks back into the front room, she's looking at the young man in the doorway with a half cocked eyebrow. "I thought SHIELD car was leaving?" she asks, and turns to look at Anya with arms folded. "SHIELD car was leaving, si? Anya Corazon, I have had enough of these government agen-"
"Abuela!" Anya turns to glare at her grandmother with a scolding tone that echoes closely the same tone her grandmother had taken with her. Her switch to conversational Spanish comes fluidly, and she lets go of Peter only to rush over to her grandmother. "<Abuela, that is Captain America, the Avenger!>" she hiss whispers.
Teresa looks at Steve in a non-committal manner. "<Nonsense,>" she whispers to Anya. "<He would be much much older. I do not find this funny, young lady.>"
"Aunt May — thank you," Steve replies in the doorway, giving the woman a warm smile. He keeps the loaves tucked beneath his arm as he steps into the house as a far taller, blond shadow of his hostess. Upon coming into view of the dining room and the kitchen, he lifts a hand in greeting to everyone.
"A pleasure to meet you all 'nd good to see those of you I've met before. Peter," he adds with a little smile towards the young man. Attention shifts to his bundling and this too he shifts to his palms, offered towards Aunt May.
"Brought two loaves of soda bread, my mother's recipe. Made 'em myself this morning between engagements." Ah, engagements: read as, every social/media-fueled appearance he's had to make since dawn. No wonder Bucky's not present. It's exhausting business even for someone used to the limelight. Regardless, there is the matte glow of a gold ring on the Captain's left-hand finger.
Still, he's not unaware of the ripple of reaction his presence has caused. There's a small accepting sigh before he turns his attention to Anya and her grandmother. "I'm not here on account of business, m'am, just an invitation. I won't be long," he explains in particular to Theresa, keeping his expression pleasantly polite. If he can tell what they're saying in Spanish, he gives no sign of it.
Peter sees Aunt May glance to the ring and sigh, and has time to think, <WTF?> before Aunt May nods. "Thank you, Agent Rogers. And for you…?" She disappears into the kitchen and comes out with…
…okay, that's not a plate. That's an EVENT. one of the large shopping bags she uses for shopping has been repurposed, for a VERY good cause. There are four boxes and one Thermos in the bag, and Aunt May displays them as she points each one out.
"The yellow box has a full turkey breast and two drumsticks. The cottage cheese container actually holds my homemade gravy. The white one has healthy portions of my sourdough bread stuffing, and the mashed potatoes Peter was so kind to mash for me."
Peter colors a little at that.
"Now, the blue box has green bean casserole, the same recipe I've had for decades. It has bacon and cheese in it. There is also my sweet potato casserole with marshmallows on top. A small container of sauteed mushrooms. Now, for DESSERT…"
Pete sighed.
"Two slices of my apple pie, as well as two slices of my key lime pie. The plastic box holding both keeps the apple pir warm and the key lime pie chilled. Peter's little invention."
Peter blushed a little deeper at that.
"And if you want, Teresa made some fine flan that I can add to the bag!"
"Abuela…" Anya's tone of voice is one step away from pleading.
"Oh, fine," Teresa relents, and shoos Anya away from herself so that she can walk over and meet this Captain America Impersonator herself. It takes a moment for her to recall that memory from so long ago, for even Captain America was known in Mexico during the war. The old Mexican lady's eyebrows rise, and internally, she's considering that he's quite a bit more convincing than the Elvis Impersonator she saw at Bingo a few months ago. "Hello," she says in her less than perfect English, and offers the man a hand. Her handshake his strong for a woman of her age, a sign of the many years she's spent caring for three young people that weren't her own. "It is nice to meet you."
Anya's face turns a shade darker when she realizes that her grandmother's demeanor is likely going to drive Steve away. "Oh, uh, you don't have to run off," she offers, and smiles nervously toward Steve. "You see, Abuela, he's not here on official business."
Meanwhile, Teresa is paying attention to the gold ring on Steve's finger. She takes it between her fingers, eyes brightening. "Congratulations, Agent Rogers," she tells him with a suddenly warm smile, before turning to look at Anya. "You see, Anya! Nice young man like that can become engaged, so what is your problem?"
Anya's mouth was open, ready to say something else, but the words are caught up in a choking sound. Her face grows a deeper shade of red, and she looks from Steve to May, then to Teresa and finally to Peter.
She's not sure which of them has a deeper blush, but she's suddenly regretting all of those times she tried to hook Spider-Man up with people who were clearly crushing over him.
"I'll be happy to cut him a slice," Teresa tells May, and turns to walk toward the kitchen, where her flan awaits. However, as she walks by, she's shooting daggers at Anya, and even goes so far as to glance toward Peter with a suspiciously raised eyebrow.
"I…" Anya looks at Peter again, then to her grandmother's departing frame, and finally, back to Steve. "She… She's not serious."
It is, in fact, a veritable feast packed away into the shopping bag. Steve's eyebrows slowly work their way up nearly into his hairline at the generous portioning. He's careful to take the bag from Aunt May and slide the handles up his forearm; it slings now at the crook of his elbow, an easy weight to manage and easy enough to slip into one of the motorcycle's side-bags, thankfully.
"Thank you, Aunt May, you've got a heart of gold," he replies to the woman, thinking to himself of how he and Bucky will be very full and content after eating it all. True gratitude shows in the Captain's face; today, being so busy, would have merited reheated leftovers otherwise back at the apartment.
Then, Abuela Teresa is at his side. With a quick, controlled motion, he slides the shopping bag down to rest beside his feet and very gently returns her handshake. "It's nice to meet you too, m'am." His eyes shift to Anya; she gets an encouraging smile. "I wish I could stay longer, but duty c — "
Of course the man pauses when the wedding ring is scrutinized, and yes, some pink does appear at his eartips. "Thank you, m'am," he replies to Teresa at the congratulations offered to him. He gives Anya yet another smile, this one sympathetic. More than once, before he wore this ring, he'd heard that shpeil.
Teresa disappears into the kitchen to retrieve the flan and Steve just slips his hands into his coat pockets, attempting to appear nonchalant and composed.
But oh — there's a story to tell Barnes once he gets home.
Peter sighs. It makes sense. Rogers reminds her of Uncle Ben. He was a handsome guy back in the 70's and 80's.
"Well, it's a great honor for you to visit, Ca…AGENT Rogers. I'm actually doing pretty well at ESU, and I'm being fast-tracked for the Neuroscience program. They're even talking about giving me access to the Vault. That's the science area set aside for projects being done for SHIELD, DARPA, and a few multinationals."
And no mention of the letter from MIT Steve found in the trash.
"Aunt May invited Mrs. Martinez to stay here. There was some…trouble…and Aunt May stepped in."
Trouble. Peter Parker, the master of understatement to call Morlun "trouble."
"A bad man busted up our apartment and killed my nephew," Teresa answers matter of factly. She's not one for social niceties, and prefers to tell things exactly how they are. "May had me move in so I did not have to go into nursing home." Teresa seems genuinely grateful for this, and walks over to Steve with a new container in hand, this one containing not one, but two slices of Flan, for Steve and his lucky partner.
It takes the moment of actual normalcy for Anya to get over the sheer mortification of what just happened. "Hi," she finally says to Steve, and offers a wave of her hand. "I'm Anya." Her face is steadily returning to its normal color, and she's looking a bit less like a turtle that wishes it had a shell to crawl into. "I, uh, well. You really could stay, if you wanted, but, I'm guessing you've got someone you'd rather eat all of that with." She grins, and reaches up to mess with a bit of the hair that's fallen out of its plastered placement and over one of her eyes. "Oh," she realizes she's been rude, and walks over to offer a hand to be shaken. "Really dope to- uh, groovy to meet you."
While Teresa is in the kitchen, the Captain shifts his attention to both Peter and Anya, she of the lingering flush of chagrin. He nods at the young man, his smile reappearing to an extent.
"'m glad to hear that, Peter. Can't wait to start to hear about what you'll get up to, given SHIELD's got perpetual interest in what comes out of the Vault. More'n an honor to be invited. Your Aunt's good people." He glances over towards May with an abiding fondness. Bucky would like her too, he muses to himself.
"'m sorry for your loss, m'am," he then adds specifically to Terersa, along with a tuck of his chin. His expression, gone somber, is poetic with condolence. "It's good that you've got folks here to help you through this time." The container with two slices of flan is taken from her upon its arrival and carefully balanced within the shopping bag, now nearly brimming in fullness of good food.
When he straightens, he looks to Anya again. "Nice to meet you, Anya. Been groovy to meet you too," he replies as he genetly returns her handshake, amusement twinkling in his eyes at the word choice even if he keeps his face carefully polite. No laughing aloud now. "More'n I promised to bring home leftovers. Always keep my promises." Now he smiles, and oh look: dimples.
Aunt May's smile contains a hint of bittersweet, and Peter realizes she's smitten. Big shock.
"Well, I'm sure whoever's waiting will be happy to get the best Turkey Day meal no caterer can touch." He smiles wryly, trying not to think that one of the 'folks' helping Anya's grandmother is the same guy who got her mixed up in it. Which means it's his fault, that relentless little voice says in his mind.
Aunt May says, "Agent Rogers, I hope you always remember that you have a place in this house. I know my Benjy would have been honored."
"Wicked," Anya says quietly to herself. It's worth noting that she's behaving, her handshake pulled back as opposed to demonstrating something to Steve. No, right here and now, it's important for everyone that her secret remain a secret.
"Si, si, they are good people," Teresa tells Steve, before stepping back and looking between Aunt May and Steve with a smirk. "Yes, and next time, bring along the other half," she tells Steve with a grin.
"They fast tracked me too," Anya sidebars to Peter, grinning. "Quietly did the double BS behind the scenes, now they're trying to get me into all kinds of internships and masters programs, it's… well, I told them all to screw off until after the holidays, but, yeah."
Steve nods, looking around at everyone present. "I'll try 'nd see if I can get the other half to join me next time. 'm happy to have been able to stop by as is. It's an honor to be included in your gathering. There's nothing like homemade food to make a holiday truly cozy — that, 'nd good company."
Stooping, the Captain works the handles of the filled shopping bag up into the crook of his elbow again. "Hate to have to excuse myself, but 'm needed at the local soup kitchen. They need a hand moving 'nd breaking down the crates of donations in prep for the dinner tonight. Got just enough time to drop this back off at the home-front before getting to that." A hand is offered out once more to all, wherein Steve takes the time to make each of them feel personally appreciated with a firm, pleasant shake if his hand is taken.
"Thank you again, Aunt May, I'll try not to be a stranger. Good to see you, Peter, 'nd hope to see you again soon, Miss Anya and Teresa." Steve does pause at the front door, however, and turns to add, "Soda bread's a simple thing: little bit of butter'll do, nothing else fancy on it. Try it while it's warm." With that, and a final little smile, the Captain excuses himself to the rest of his holiday duties.
Peter and Aunt May watch him go, Aunt May wearing a wry smile. She waits until Rogers leaves the porch area and closes the door before saying, "I do hope he found a nice girl."
Peter looked to Aunt May. "You were FLIRTING with him."
Aunt May grins to Peter. "Well, I *do* like older men."
Peter covers his mouth. "Oh mah God I think I'm gonna ralph…"
Aunt May gives an amused cackle, then says to Teresa, "Much too easy."
Wait…did Aunt May just quopte Darth Vader?
Once Steve has gone, Anya breathes a sigh of relief. She's of the full believe that he did not recognize her, and that her costume and the fake ponytail and all really did the job. She turns to look between Aunt May and Peter, and forms a smirk. "You assume it's a girl," she says, chiding Aunt May a little, and perhaps trying to take some of the heat away from Peter, who's about to toss his cookies.
Teresa laughs aloud at Aunt May, then reaches over to usher Peter away and into the kitchen. "That is not how you make room for Thanksgiving Dinner!" she chides him. "Now go on, set the table. I am hungry, and Anya can eat a truck."
"Abuela…" Anya rolls her eyes, then leans over toward Peter. "You are full of surprises, you know that?"
Peter seems to have recovered from his bout of "nausea" and looks to Anya. "*I'm* full of surprises?"
Then he is hustled along by Teresa, but goes uncomplainingly.
Aunt May moves over to Anya, looking slightly puzzled. "What did you mean by that? I'm somewhat confused."
That one needs no explanation. Anya giggles as Peter is ushered away by her grandmother, then turns toward Aunt May with lifted eyebrows. "Oh, Aunt May. You can't assume he's married to a woman. It's 2019, you know, and you just can't assume that." She smiles warmly and reaches over to touch the woman's arm, and then guides her toward the kitchen behind Peter and Teresa. "Guy or girl though, you gotta admit, whoever it is is really lucky. Can't say I'm not a little jealous, but don't tell Abuela. She does not approve of my dating habits, or lack thereof."
May is a little slow on the uptake, but Anya seems to have gotten her on the right track. Her eyes widen slightly.
"Oh…oh, dear. I…I didn't expect THAT." She looks to the door. "…You're right, of course. You'll have to forgive the irish Catholic in me sometimes." She looks back to Anya. "Will you forgive an old woman for saying that this is a little difficult sometimes? I hear and see so many things, people claiming that they are a certain gender or animal simply because they wish they are? Peter has a friend at school who told him she should date him because she was a unicorn in human form and could detect his 'purity.'" She shakes her head. "I am attracted to men. But I am no person to judge another on who they want to be intimate with. That's just none of my business."
"Your generation has a harder time than mine," Anya tells May, "And that is not your fault. Trust me, Abuela has had this earful about a hundred times. All that matters is that you care to try and see, you know? And we're assuming a lot here. He might have some blond bombshell with a D-cup at home, you never know. The point is… not to assume." She grins widely and then laughs aloud at the unicorn story. "I swear, the more I get to know your nephew, I'm convinced his love life is way more weird than mine ever was, or ever will be."
She hangs back for a moment, letting Peter and Teresa get to work on setting up the table. "Hey," she says, trying to hold Aunt May back a bit. "This is… really something, you know." She nods her head toward her grandma, and her smile is now gone, replaced by a sense of true thanks. "I mean… she's really strong, she'd roll with the punches, and this has been really hard on her. She won't show it, and don't dare try and get her to admit it, but… I can tell you, she's happy. Happier than I've seen her in a long time." She looks from May back to Teresa and Peter, and a soft smile reforms. "Honestly, I think… you know, it wasn't only me and my cousins. Uncle Rico was a drunk, she practically had to take care of him like an overgrown teenager, too. I think, in a way, she's… relieved. She gets to finally just be herself, now."
Aunt May watches as Peter comes out with dish after dish, filled with the main sources of Steve's goodie bag. "It seems simple enough for him. This girl, Helena, she seems good for him but shehas become so busy with her schoolwork. Peter says she is going to a very demanding school, but a girl like her, a lot is expected." She looks to Anya. "God turns all things for the good, the bible says. Maybe even the acts of monsters. But this is no time to think of monsters. You are here, she is here, and this is a time for family, yes?"
While learning not only that Peter has a partner but also just who it is wasn't Anya's goal, she can't help but widen her eyes when she… pieces it all together. It takes everything in her not to blurt out some vulgarity, because, this is Aunt May's house after all. Instead, she forms a grin that borders on smug, and nods her head slowly. "It sure is," she tells Aunt May, before squeezing her wrist gently and then moving to join the others in the kitchen.
"Hang around Abuela for too long, Parker, and she'll show you what a hard day's work is all about!"
May chuckles. "He's no stranger to hard work."
The spread is looking pretty good. The sides are all on the table, with a very conspicuous gap just big enough for a 20-pound turkey. "We're deep-frying them this year. Aunt May gave nearly half the turkey to a Living Legend who shall remain nameless…"
"Hush, Peter Benjamin Parker," Aunt May chides.
"…BUUU-UUT the other one will be ready in a few minutes, and then we'll say grace and chow down."
"At least she didn't choose to give it to the Hulk," Anya says, joining Peter in a bit of friendly ribbing. "I've always wanted to try a deep fried turkey," she admits. "We don't do the whole typical Thanksgiving, you know, we celebrate and we eat, but not… not this." She looks at all of the food, and quietly considers if maybe she and Peter ought to on some real hardcore web-slinging later. She's gonna have the fuel reserves to spin thrice as many webs after all this.
"Well, we are doingit here. It is nice to have be more than just the two of us." Aunt May chuckles as Peter goes back into the kitchen. He comes out with a platter of turkey, which has already been deivested of the bones and is sliced and arranged, dark meat on the left, white meat on the right. Peter puts the platter on the table, then a timer bell rings and Peter stands up. "Gotta get the other turkey. Be right back." He smiles to all and sundry, then heads into the back yard.
"This will be my first American Thanksgiving," Teresa says as she settles in. "I am a little nervous, but, this all looks muy deliciosa."
"I'm gonna have to change into a bigger dress," Anya jokes, laughing. "I've had an American Thanksgiving before, Abuela, and yeah… it's good. You're gonna want a nice nap after you're done, and make sure you keep an eye on your blood sugar."
Teresa smiles and reaches over to pat Anya's wrist. "She's always looking out for me," she tells May. "So I don't feel too bad about giving her a hard time, or giving her space. She runs around with some weird people, though." Teresa turns to look at Anya curtly.
"Abuela…" she shakes her head. "Not today, yeah?"
"Si, si, yes, okay. Not today."
Then Peter reappears, and the turkey is revealed, fresh out of the large frying pot. There is the slight smell of oil, and the skin looks quite crispy.
Peter puts it on another platter at the table, then picks up the carving knife, then slices into the breast of the turkey. The meat is white and juicy, in spite of the crispy skin. "The oil seals in the juices, because the outside cooks so fast the oil doesn't penetrate."
"Enough showing off." Aunt May stands next to her chair. "Do you mind if we hold hands in a circle?"
"Oh my god, so it won't be dry like most turkey?" Anya might as well be drooling by now.
"I think that is a lovely idea," Teresa says, and snatches up Anya's hand before reaching for Peter's.
They link hands, and Aunt May nods. "Lord, we wish to thank you for the food we have on this day of giving thanks for what we have. In face of our trials, we have You, and we have each other. We pray for all those less fortunate. We pray for those who cannot be with family. We pray for those who have gone before us, and those close to us in our hearts. We pray for strength in the days to come, and recognize all things come from You." She looks around and smiles. "We give thanks for Anya Corazon and Teresa Martinez, for through their own trials, they are with us now. In Jesus' name, Amen."
"Amen," says Teresa.
"Amen." Anya's is the last voice to be heard, and the last to open her eyes. When she looks up, she can see the tears that have formed in her grandmother's eyes, and so she releases May's hand and reaches over to pull Teresa into an embrace. The older woman immediately begins to cry, and buries her head into Anya's shoulder.
"Lo siento," Anya says quietly. "Esta bien. Te quiero."
Once Teresa pulls away, Anya retrieves her cell phone and puts it into selfie position. "Alright, everyone, get in close." She scoots her chair around and holds the phone out as far as she can, framing it until all four of them are in the picture. "For Miguel and Arturo, okay? Everyone say 'cheese'!"
Peter and May smile, moving in close for the picture.
"Cheese!" they say in unison, and for a moment, it feels like Uncle Ben is there, and everything is all right again.
Healing takes time, but it's better with friends.