𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦?! | 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝟐𝟑. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐟𝐮𝐥

Eager forks scraped on platters. The first moments were silent, but for appreciative sounds and requests to pass the gravy. You ladled some over your mashed potatoes, silky with butter. Stunned at the spread, you sampled the string beans, the stuffing, and the sweet potatoes–heavy but congenial, you noted. How American. Cooked to perfection, a full turkey presided over the feast, fat sparkling on a crispy layer of skin. You dug into the meat–flavorsome, tender, and not dry in the slightest, your tastebuds sang Helen's praises.

The family thanked her, and as expected, they asked you about the basics–age, country, family, wanting to be a writer.

"But that was interrupted when, sent to take care of my grandparents during COVID, I flew to Florida instead of California. Still don't know how I managed that one. But there were no flights back, my country didn't take people from America, and I didn't have money for a hotel. With nowhere else to go, Clay was generous enough to let me stay with him."

"That's right... Clay, I still can't believe you let a stranger into your house like that. What if she wanted to rob you?" Father-Dream (Robert? Helen had called him that once) admonished.

"Well–she was really struggling there. She called her mom, tried booking a flight, tried booking a hotel... It was too realistic to be an act. If I didn't take her in, who would?"

He nodded. "And that was in... September? How did it last this long?"

"I got caught in a hurricane. My papers were destroyed, so I can't fly out until my replacements arrive." You let out a breath.

"–Oh, and she saved Patches! Guys, Patches was out during that hurricane and I thought I'd lose them both but [Name] was so brave. She came a few hours later, soaking wet, in a full hurricane, bringing her in and–"

"–We know! You wouldn't stop telling us–"

"–It was only twice!"

"Three times!"

"Whatever. You're exaggerating."

Across the table, Clay and Drista stared each other down once more.

You faced their parents. "You two did a really good job with Clay! He easily wheedled out my life aspirations, and our first real conversation ended with him telling me to follow my dreams. He has such a way of lifting people up."

He turned to you. "That's only because I knew you could reach them. I knew you had it in you from the start."

You laughed. "How? We had just met."

"It was a vibe–a vibe!" He slammed the table. "I always get the vibes right."

"Are you sure you're not together?"

"Ha-ha! Of course... not." You chuckled pathetically. Drista eyed you once more.

"Hey, [Name], will you pass the–oops!" As she lunged across the table, Drista's elbow tipped over your glass of apple cider. What was it with you and juice spills? The glass collided with the table and soaked your sweater.

"[Name], are you okay?"

"Yes, is Drista?"

The cold stickiness started to set into your skin.

Drista shrugged. "Yeah. Sorry. You were in the way."

Helen's head snapped up, ready to admonish her. You almost let her. Disappointment twisted in your gut–you didn't know much about Drista, but you had assumed she would be as welcoming and kind as the rest of her family.

Or was it something you had done? Had you unknowingly offended her?

"It's okay! I guess I was. Let's clean up first." You set your napkin to the puddle. In a flurry of action, the family helped rescue the tablecloth and mop up the flood. You tugged the fabric, mourning the gorgeous texture–would it stain?