Thanksgivings And Taking It In
[Players: mai_lovely]
[Scene: Mai opens a new door. Backdated to Monday, November 22nd, 2009.]
Mai tiptoed into the room. The decor of soft pink, pastel yellow and white made her feel like she was back in her grade-school dance classes taking steps across the parquet floor. The door creaked in tandem with the beams of the rocking chair that was in the corner of the room as she pushed it closed. The harsh light of the hallway cut out as dim bulbs warmed the room, amplifying the walls like they were inside a sunflower. She creeped forward towards the silohuette on the wall quietly.
Melody smiled at her approaching sister. "Ready?"
The clatter of plates and pans echoed off the stainless steel appliances as they were placed in the sink. Mai was second in the train of people only to her mother; at least three others followed carrying trays that used to be filled with food. Thanksgiving brought people but brought even more silverware to the Valentine household.
"That was a marvelous green bean casserole, Mai," Aunt Erica commented, covering the dish containing the vegetables and switching it out of the refrigerator with the first of several pumpkin pies. Mai, behind her silver turkey platter raised conveniently to face level, half smiled and half grimaced. She was always saddled with the simplest dishes, partially because of the pecking order. At least she had escalated from dinner rolls, a right now belonging to her college-aged cousin. She hadn't convinced her relatives that she was more capable, so for now it was the side dishes and the wine selections of the evening.
She thought back to the beginning of the evening, pouring the 2005 Kongsgaard Chardonnay The Judge, a bottle that her parents had purchased for the holiday season. Only two people over fifteen had refused it, her great-aunt Millie, who was a teetotaler at heart, and her sister Melody, who spoiled the fun because of some medication. Mai could see why this wine was named one of the best of the year: a lovely aroma and an even better taste would make her recommend it to anyone. At least her kin trusted her judgement in alcohol.
"Well, we had better hurry back," Judith said. "The boys are hungry for their pies."
The boys should come get their own damn pies, Mai thought, as she did every year at least twice. What a family. "Of course, Mom," she said wryly.
As soon as the the leftovers were refrigerated and the Thanksgiving table was cleared, the Valentine matriarchs brought the dessert amenities out, complete with coffee mugs. Mai was just glad she didn't have to service them up to anybody; her kin hadn't given her that much responsibility yet, either. Despite her negative feelings, she had been moderately enjoying the day. She hadn't gotten caught up in any talk. The apple pie was as delicious as always; maybe she could get the recipe from her aunt so she could make them to sell at work.
Everyone was settled and eating when the clinkling of a glass cut through the low chatter. A few seats down and across from her, her brother-in-law was standing up. Having been in the family for a couple years, he had been assimilated rather quickly. His business was taking off and he was already pals with her father and, strangely enough, her grandfather. It wasn't surprising that Daniel would be making a toast.
"Attention," Daniel said with a small waiver in his voice. "I have an announcement. Well, we have an announcement," he said, helping Melody to stand.
Mai started to think. Ah ha!
Her parents almost jumped out of their chairs, but instead rested on the edge of them in anticipation. A full two-thirds of the table had put down their forks. Mai ate another bite of pumpkin pie.
"We're happy to announce," Daniel started, then looked at Melody in a joyful Kodak-type moment, "that we're going to be adding another member to our family."
You sound like you've adopted a dog. Mai's internal cynicism never failed her, even with happy family news.
Melody wrapped her arm around her husband. "We're having a baby!"
"How along are you?" her mother piped up after, well, a pregnant pause.
"Seven weeks," Melody said, face covered in a smile.
"Any names yet?" called Uncle Rudolf.
"We haven't decided on anything yet. We don't know if it's a boy or girl!" Melody laughed.
"What color's the nursery?" someone said.
"This is a surprise."
"Finally, a grandchild!"
"I'll get to pamper her all I want."
"Or him."
"Now," a voice broke through the chatter, "let's have Daniel make his toast." Mai's father, with the ability to part conversations like Moses, smiled from the head of the table. "Go ahead, Daniel."
"Thank you, Dad. A toast, to my beautiful Melody and our beautiful child."
"You, too, dear," Melody said, clinking her glass full of water with his wine-filled one.
"To the happy couple," Mai offered up, raising her goblet along with the rest. The room had changed. Suddenly there was a thanks big enough to be celebrating. Daniel and Melody sat down, and the chatter resumed. Mai looked at the white wine swirling around in her glass, tentatively lifted it to her lips, and drank it in.
That was twelve months ago.
Mai had progress in the form of pictures, a filmstrip that felt like someone had run it doublespeed in the projector. Every two weeks she got an e-mail update from Melody, complete with photos, stories, and the occasional IM with TMI. She saw Melody through morning sickness, preparing the nursery, reading the books. Unfortunately the baby shower was on a weekend, and the short staffing of the Phoenix made her unable to attend; a lovely present was FedEx-ed and she recieved back a nice thank-you note with ducks and pink blocks.
When the baby was almost due she stepped up with another sense: hearing. Phone calls were made when Mai was on the train to work or when Melody was at home scrapbooking in preparation for the new snapshots. The delivery peppered a whole day of Mai's, phone calls from her mother and father and Daniel, starting on the train ride back from her bar. She allowed herself to miss three of those calls to get a five hours' rest, calling back promptly after making the first cup of coffee. The noon hour was the height of the excitement, and the flourish of activity on June 22nd at 12:52PM was promptly delivered to her by her father.
At home and with all the noise and commotion behind her father's words, Mai felt a strange tunneling distance. She brushed it off with the interruption of her mother's voice behind their discussion to tell her that Daniel had almost fainted in the delivery room. She let herself get swept up in the excitement again, a rip current that prevented isolation.
With life generally happening, Mai hadn't gotten to see her new niece until now. Letting herself off a few days earlier for Thanksgiving was a godsend to her general well-being. She had booked a ticket to Augusta to help the new parents get to Thanksgiving in one piece, and she knew that even with the baby she wouldn't feel as compressed as she did in New York. LaGuardia wasn't as bad as it could have been, and a quick skipjump in Boston lead her here to Maine. Daniel picked her up from the airport, and they made pleasant sibling-in-law small talk for the almost-hour's drive. It was a far difference from the usual hour-and-a-half trip to Connecticut; Mai was sure it'd be worth it. With her bags dropped off and coat hung up, she could finally seek out the others.
In the daffodil light of the nursery, she saw Paulina Cranton for the first time. Her slight blonde hair blended into her skin. Her expression was of comfort at the most basic level. The barely-breath that Mai could hardly detect made it seem like she was not human but resin doll.
"You want to hold her, Mai?" Melody looked like she had been through the wringer at least three times. "Lina's being good at the moment."
"Yeah." Mai could feel a tensing of her muscles. No time to be nervous, she told herself. She walked over to her sister and bent over to accept the offer. For Mai, it was an odd unexpectance that Melody would actually hand her child over. The baby rocked into her arms and suddenly she was actually an aunt to this newborn.
The baby's face scrunched up, and Mai held her breath, anticipated the shrill noise. Instead, Lina settled again.
"You look like you've never seen a kid, Mai." Melody was smiling.
"I haven't been around kids much," Mai said quietly.
Melody got up and stood next to her. Lina's aunt was currently decide if she should actually say hi to her newest family member. "Hello, Lina," she said. "You're a very pretty girl."
A warm frozen moment went by. Perhaps it was Mai's total stillness, but suddenly the squinch was back on the baby's face, and this time it was followed quickly by a loud cry. Melody laughed and deftly scooped the baby from Mai's arms. "You look terrified.
"I'm going to see what's wrong with this little bean, and you go on to dinner. We'll be there in a minute," Melody said to Mai. "Shh, shh," she said to Lina.
Mai nodded, and paused a bit. It felt as though when she left the room she would wake up. As she stepped, still quietly, into the hallway, she felt heady from the blend of realizations and scenarios that were hitting her. She was: the next generation, the observer, capable of having a child of her own, somewhat lonely, the aunt that would spoil her, the aunt, the aunt. Until this point she was really that small in the whole thing, but now that she felt the weight of her niece in everything, things had no doubt changed.
"What do you want to drink?" Daniel asked her as she sat down at the dining room table.
"Whatever you have's fine." She used the chance to break out of her own head. "Ready for the drive?"
"Getting there. It'll be a haul, but everything'll work out."
"Excited to have everyone see the baby?"
"Not really, because they won't leave her alone," he said.
"Just tell them to and they will. I'll help if you need it."
"Thanks, Mai," he said as he put the glass on the table.
"No problem."
Mai did not usually shift. She wasn't used to broken routines, or even battered ones. Her lines were clean and neat and did not intersect except for the grids of days and months in her planner. Variables were the unstable electrons in an atom, waiting for change. By an unseen force, Mai had been pulled into a different direction, and she knew that it would be the catalyst that shifted and shuffled and sparked all aspects of her life. There wasn't much she could do over the weekend, and it wasn't even that she wanted a child of her own. That wasn't in the books. It was the little cup of something different that had been placed in her hands and that she had been forced to drink: strange texture, uneasy bouquet, but ultimately sweeter than what she was used to.
She looked down from contemplation to see her sister and her niece standing in the doorway, almost triumphantly. Mai felt a grin on her face, which Melody reciprocated as she softly sat down next to her. "Let's eat."
[Scene: Mai opens a new door. Backdated to Monday, November 22nd, 2009.]
Mai tiptoed into the room. The decor of soft pink, pastel yellow and white made her feel like she was back in her grade-school dance classes taking steps across the parquet floor. The door creaked in tandem with the beams of the rocking chair that was in the corner of the room as she pushed it closed. The harsh light of the hallway cut out as dim bulbs warmed the room, amplifying the walls like they were inside a sunflower. She creeped forward towards the silohuette on the wall quietly.
Melody smiled at her approaching sister. "Ready?"
The clatter of plates and pans echoed off the stainless steel appliances as they were placed in the sink. Mai was second in the train of people only to her mother; at least three others followed carrying trays that used to be filled with food. Thanksgiving brought people but brought even more silverware to the Valentine household.
"That was a marvelous green bean casserole, Mai," Aunt Erica commented, covering the dish containing the vegetables and switching it out of the refrigerator with the first of several pumpkin pies. Mai, behind her silver turkey platter raised conveniently to face level, half smiled and half grimaced. She was always saddled with the simplest dishes, partially because of the pecking order. At least she had escalated from dinner rolls, a right now belonging to her college-aged cousin. She hadn't convinced her relatives that she was more capable, so for now it was the side dishes and the wine selections of the evening.
She thought back to the beginning of the evening, pouring the 2005 Kongsgaard Chardonnay The Judge, a bottle that her parents had purchased for the holiday season. Only two people over fifteen had refused it, her great-aunt Millie, who was a teetotaler at heart, and her sister Melody, who spoiled the fun because of some medication. Mai could see why this wine was named one of the best of the year: a lovely aroma and an even better taste would make her recommend it to anyone. At least her kin trusted her judgement in alcohol.
"Well, we had better hurry back," Judith said. "The boys are hungry for their pies."
The boys should come get their own damn pies, Mai thought, as she did every year at least twice. What a family. "Of course, Mom," she said wryly.
As soon as the the leftovers were refrigerated and the Thanksgiving table was cleared, the Valentine matriarchs brought the dessert amenities out, complete with coffee mugs. Mai was just glad she didn't have to service them up to anybody; her kin hadn't given her that much responsibility yet, either. Despite her negative feelings, she had been moderately enjoying the day. She hadn't gotten caught up in any talk. The apple pie was as delicious as always; maybe she could get the recipe from her aunt so she could make them to sell at work.
Everyone was settled and eating when the clinkling of a glass cut through the low chatter. A few seats down and across from her, her brother-in-law was standing up. Having been in the family for a couple years, he had been assimilated rather quickly. His business was taking off and he was already pals with her father and, strangely enough, her grandfather. It wasn't surprising that Daniel would be making a toast.
"Attention," Daniel said with a small waiver in his voice. "I have an announcement. Well, we have an announcement," he said, helping Melody to stand.
Mai started to think. Ah ha!
Her parents almost jumped out of their chairs, but instead rested on the edge of them in anticipation. A full two-thirds of the table had put down their forks. Mai ate another bite of pumpkin pie.
"We're happy to announce," Daniel started, then looked at Melody in a joyful Kodak-type moment, "that we're going to be adding another member to our family."
You sound like you've adopted a dog. Mai's internal cynicism never failed her, even with happy family news.
Melody wrapped her arm around her husband. "We're having a baby!"
"How along are you?" her mother piped up after, well, a pregnant pause.
"Seven weeks," Melody said, face covered in a smile.
"Any names yet?" called Uncle Rudolf.
"We haven't decided on anything yet. We don't know if it's a boy or girl!" Melody laughed.
"What color's the nursery?" someone said.
"This is a surprise."
"Finally, a grandchild!"
"I'll get to pamper her all I want."
"Or him."
"Now," a voice broke through the chatter, "let's have Daniel make his toast." Mai's father, with the ability to part conversations like Moses, smiled from the head of the table. "Go ahead, Daniel."
"Thank you, Dad. A toast, to my beautiful Melody and our beautiful child."
"You, too, dear," Melody said, clinking her glass full of water with his wine-filled one.
"To the happy couple," Mai offered up, raising her goblet along with the rest. The room had changed. Suddenly there was a thanks big enough to be celebrating. Daniel and Melody sat down, and the chatter resumed. Mai looked at the white wine swirling around in her glass, tentatively lifted it to her lips, and drank it in.
That was twelve months ago.
Mai had progress in the form of pictures, a filmstrip that felt like someone had run it doublespeed in the projector. Every two weeks she got an e-mail update from Melody, complete with photos, stories, and the occasional IM with TMI. She saw Melody through morning sickness, preparing the nursery, reading the books. Unfortunately the baby shower was on a weekend, and the short staffing of the Phoenix made her unable to attend; a lovely present was FedEx-ed and she recieved back a nice thank-you note with ducks and pink blocks.
When the baby was almost due she stepped up with another sense: hearing. Phone calls were made when Mai was on the train to work or when Melody was at home scrapbooking in preparation for the new snapshots. The delivery peppered a whole day of Mai's, phone calls from her mother and father and Daniel, starting on the train ride back from her bar. She allowed herself to miss three of those calls to get a five hours' rest, calling back promptly after making the first cup of coffee. The noon hour was the height of the excitement, and the flourish of activity on June 22nd at 12:52PM was promptly delivered to her by her father.
At home and with all the noise and commotion behind her father's words, Mai felt a strange tunneling distance. She brushed it off with the interruption of her mother's voice behind their discussion to tell her that Daniel had almost fainted in the delivery room. She let herself get swept up in the excitement again, a rip current that prevented isolation.
With life generally happening, Mai hadn't gotten to see her new niece until now. Letting herself off a few days earlier for Thanksgiving was a godsend to her general well-being. She had booked a ticket to Augusta to help the new parents get to Thanksgiving in one piece, and she knew that even with the baby she wouldn't feel as compressed as she did in New York. LaGuardia wasn't as bad as it could have been, and a quick skipjump in Boston lead her here to Maine. Daniel picked her up from the airport, and they made pleasant sibling-in-law small talk for the almost-hour's drive. It was a far difference from the usual hour-and-a-half trip to Connecticut; Mai was sure it'd be worth it. With her bags dropped off and coat hung up, she could finally seek out the others.
In the daffodil light of the nursery, she saw Paulina Cranton for the first time. Her slight blonde hair blended into her skin. Her expression was of comfort at the most basic level. The barely-breath that Mai could hardly detect made it seem like she was not human but resin doll.
"You want to hold her, Mai?" Melody looked like she had been through the wringer at least three times. "Lina's being good at the moment."
"Yeah." Mai could feel a tensing of her muscles. No time to be nervous, she told herself. She walked over to her sister and bent over to accept the offer. For Mai, it was an odd unexpectance that Melody would actually hand her child over. The baby rocked into her arms and suddenly she was actually an aunt to this newborn.
The baby's face scrunched up, and Mai held her breath, anticipated the shrill noise. Instead, Lina settled again.
"You look like you've never seen a kid, Mai." Melody was smiling.
"I haven't been around kids much," Mai said quietly.
Melody got up and stood next to her. Lina's aunt was currently decide if she should actually say hi to her newest family member. "Hello, Lina," she said. "You're a very pretty girl."
A warm frozen moment went by. Perhaps it was Mai's total stillness, but suddenly the squinch was back on the baby's face, and this time it was followed quickly by a loud cry. Melody laughed and deftly scooped the baby from Mai's arms. "You look terrified.
"I'm going to see what's wrong with this little bean, and you go on to dinner. We'll be there in a minute," Melody said to Mai. "Shh, shh," she said to Lina.
Mai nodded, and paused a bit. It felt as though when she left the room she would wake up. As she stepped, still quietly, into the hallway, she felt heady from the blend of realizations and scenarios that were hitting her. She was: the next generation, the observer, capable of having a child of her own, somewhat lonely, the aunt that would spoil her, the aunt, the aunt. Until this point she was really that small in the whole thing, but now that she felt the weight of her niece in everything, things had no doubt changed.
"What do you want to drink?" Daniel asked her as she sat down at the dining room table.
"Whatever you have's fine." She used the chance to break out of her own head. "Ready for the drive?"
"Getting there. It'll be a haul, but everything'll work out."
"Excited to have everyone see the baby?"
"Not really, because they won't leave her alone," he said.
"Just tell them to and they will. I'll help if you need it."
"Thanks, Mai," he said as he put the glass on the table.
"No problem."
Mai did not usually shift. She wasn't used to broken routines, or even battered ones. Her lines were clean and neat and did not intersect except for the grids of days and months in her planner. Variables were the unstable electrons in an atom, waiting for change. By an unseen force, Mai had been pulled into a different direction, and she knew that it would be the catalyst that shifted and shuffled and sparked all aspects of her life. There wasn't much she could do over the weekend, and it wasn't even that she wanted a child of her own. That wasn't in the books. It was the little cup of something different that had been placed in her hands and that she had been forced to drink: strange texture, uneasy bouquet, but ultimately sweeter than what she was used to.
She looked down from contemplation to see her sister and her niece standing in the doorway, almost triumphantly. Mai felt a grin on her face, which Melody reciprocated as she softly sat down next to her. "Let's eat."