The Rockmore House

28 | Let Go

Thursday, November 24th, 2016

Eric wasn't all that was gone the next day. The Facebook post from the twentieth anniversary of the day Elizabeth and Michelle Conley vanished was gone. The newspaper articles detailing the circumstances of their disappearance were gone, too.

When I arrived at my mom's house in the afternoon, anticipating the scents of apple and pumpkin pies baking in the oven, my mom was gone and the only smell was Jason's patchouli-infused dirty laundry that he'd hauled home to wash.

"Thanksgiving is canceled," Jason announced when I walked through the door.

"What? Where's Mom?"

"Chris's mom fell and broke her hip or something early this morning. They're at a hospital in Grand Rapids."

So one set of our parents was in Kentucky and the other was on the other side of the state and we were on our own for Thanksgiving dinner. I was investigating the contents of the refrigerator and freezer to see what our options were when my phone buzzed.

Eric: Happy Thanksgiving, Ness. What's on the menu? The usual?

I sent him a picture of a meatless frozen lasagna, still in the box.

Vanessa: Strange turn of events. All of my parental figures are hours away.

After a few minutes he responded.

Eric: My mom says you have to come to our house for dinner

Vanessa: Tell your mom I said thanks, but my brother's home, so I'm good

Eric: She says to bring your brother

Eric: She says it's an order

Vanessa: Now I know where you get your lack of respect for boundaries from

Eric: ha!  I'll set two more places

Jason was on the floor in the den playing a game of tug of war with Tommy and a dog toy shaped like a flamingo. He always played tug of war with one side of the toy between his teeth so it would be fair. He was so weird and gross.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I scored us a dinner invitation," I said. "If you're interested."

He let the flamingo drop, sat back on his heels and groaned. "Don't tell me it's Sophie's house. I'm not prepared for that."

"No, actually at my friend Eric's. Eric Anderson."

"Is he Owen's brother?"

"Yeah."

"How's Owen doing?" He grimaced, so he must have heard.

"I don't know. Could be better, could be worse? I don't really know what he was like before, so I have no basis for comparison."

"Crashing some other family's Thanksgiving." Jason took a deep breath through his nose, and his nostrils flared the way they did when he was thinking. Just like our dad's. He let the breath out noisily. "Sounds awkward as fuck. Let's do it."

Once Jason put on his "good sweater" which only had three or four holes in it and selected a bottle of red wine from mom's cabinet to bring along, we were on our way to the Navarro-Anderson Thanksgiving. And there were an absolute ton of Navarros and Andersons there. So many that our sudden appearance barely registered and extra tables were set up in the living room so there would be enough seating for everybody.

Dr. Navarro graciously accepted Jason's bottle of wine and we thanked her for the invitation as she ushered us into the thick of the pre-dinner standing around shoulder to shoulder and catching up while eating appetizers time. When he caught sight of us, Eric wove his way through his relatives and dragged us to the den to watch the end of the Lions football game, a Thanksgiving Day tradition.