Emmy-award winning and Academy Award winning actress Wrenley James Grant attends the 2016 Met Gala, expecting for it to just be your classic run-of-the-mill Met Gala until she runs into the Grammy Award-winning singer-songwriter Taylor Swift. No, li...
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We've been shuffling around each other for the past hour, all of us whipping up different dishes for dinner tonight. Austin and Wren have completely checked out and are instead playing Super Smash Bros in the living room, screaming and shouting when they get frustrated.
For it being Wren's first time meeting Austin, they certainly hit it off right away. Especially when they started talking about film and photography and stuff I could not understand for the life of me, like whatever "mise en scéne" is.
Gigi, Selena, Florence, Zayn, and I have been breaking our backs in this godforsaken kitchen of mine, trying to prepare this turkey and the candied yams. Wren and Gigi had already made their banana bread which is sitting in a tupperware to the side, though it wasn't a simple feat, they both battled over who got to do what as if it was some type of Olympic game.
Cooking a Thanksgiving feast is a dirty trick, I'll tell you that. The shows and the movies make it all seem so simple, just toss the damn turkey in the oven and voila, you're set. They never mention that you have to season the damn thing with multiple spices and herbs like parsley, rosemary, sage, and thyme. Then you have to rub the cavity of the turkey with the herb mixture and stuff the damn thing with vegetables, put the whole thing into a roasting pan, pour broth over it and some champagne if you're feeling frisky, then you put it in the oven.
But, of course, before all of that, the giant bird has to thaw in a refrigerator for three damn days, which Wren and I have been doing since before we left to come here yesterday.
And my girlfriend had to detour our plans to leave two days ago because of a prior commitment she had made.
"Why are we at a tattoo shop?"
Wren smirks devilishly. I knew it was coming, she had been sketching up a slew of designs that I discovered in her home the other day, tons of collections of daisies, roses, mostly earthly tattoos, though I did not miss the beautifully shaded and intricately detailed snake on one of her sketchbook pages.
"Don't act like you haven't been sneaking around looking through my sketches, you know why we're here."
"No, I understand why you're here, but my question was why are we here?" I smile up at her as she fills out the consent form and information, but her smile is clear as day.
A soft grin, close-lipped, but genuine all the same. Once she clicks the pen closed, she slips it under the clamp on the clipboard and hums serenely, angling her head towards me.
"Moral support, of course. Plus, I need a second opinion to reassure me that it looks good."
Our eyes rest on one another's for a few moments' time, a skirting smile gracing my face with the warm blanket coaxing over my heart.
