The Holt Conundrum

eighth november

It's November and this Thanksgiving we have a rule—no one is allowed to ask me about the documentary.

It's still giving me night sweats. I have an idea of how I want it to look, but I still don't know what I'm supposed to say. I've made Keith edit it three different ways but nothing feels right.

The only good thing about this documentary is that now I think I know how I want to propose. If I ever do manage to finish it, I want to ask Holt to marry me in the credits.

            So we're back home and I'm trying not to think about the documentary and thinking about not thinking about the documentary means that I'm always thinking about the documentary. I'm a glorious mess.

The first evening that Eloise and company are there and we're all sitting in the living room, my sister is really getting annoyed with me so she says, "Brother, you really need to stop sulking. You'll ruin Thanksgiving."

"I'm not sulking," I whine, "I'm broodingly thinking."

"Guys, I think we need to distract the diva," she announces.

"Well we do have a little home video to show," Mom says with a scheming grin. Everyone is actually. 

"Should I be worried?" I'm thinking about my homemade tutorial and smirking a little.

Holt totally knows what's up and laughs. "Nah, nothing like that. Just watch and stop being naughty."

Oh so he knows about this?

The video starts on the flat screen and it's my face, my high school year face. Eloise is recording it. This is one of the many many videos Eloise has shot while we were at a football game. We always used to record ourselves and kid around. Eloise used to do it to have videos of her latest crush.

"Anything to say Eliah?" she asks me

I look bored, as I often was at those games. "Nothing for our school's team. Everyone sucks. I'm looking at you Greg, and it's not a compliment. But if the guys from the opposing team are looking at this video, I would like to ask for your receiver's hand in marriage."

Past-Eloise laughs. Present-Me suddenly stands very still. "You've asked for a lot of hands in marriage brother," she answers.

"Yeah, but that receiver is the one," I answer my sister and grab her phone, zooming in on him with blond hair and a shy little smile, "Number eighteen, if you ever get this, please marry me."

Holy. Fucking. Shit. I absolutely do not remember this, but I do remember this at the same time. They stopped the video and now I'm looking at everyone like a deer caught in a headlight.

"What... why... how..." I'm mumbling.

And Holt, that bastard, just kneels in front if me. "The answer is yes."

I'm still completely confused. Am I being pranked? "What in the..."

Holt smile at me. "That's my old high school football team. I was number eighteen. And the answer is yes. A hundred times yes."

I'm grabbing his hand and I just can't believe this. That was him? Here I was always whining about meeting Holt sooner when technically I had already been perving on him when I was a teenager? "How is this even possible?" I breathe.

He chuckles. "To have you waiting this long for an answer? I know, unbelievable."

"But..." I'm blinking back tears, still looking around while my family looks at us smiling. I will not cry right now,
if I do I will never hear the end of it.

"Now that I've said yes, I just need to make sure that you haven't changed your mind in the last ten years. I want to marry you, but do you want to marry me?"

I could still be babbling right now, I'm still internally freaking out. But I've just been asked a serious question and I will not screw it up. "No my mind has absolutely not changed. I do want to marry you."

And Holt finally gets back on his feet and hugs me. I hug him right back, burying my face in the crook of his shoulder while my family claps around us.

Wait a second. I let go of Holt just slightly and say, "You guys were in on this?"

Dad laughs. "Of course we were. He asked us if it was okay this summer."

"Wait..." I narrow my eyes at them, "is that why you've all been completely useless and none of you helped me?"

Mom grins sheepishly. "A little yeah."

"And you undeserving sister, I'm assuming you dug up that video?" I ask, pointing at her.

She laughs. "I did actually."

"And you gave it to him and not me?" I say, gasping in faux-horror.

"I like him better. He's never made me eat boogers," she replies, sticking her tongue at me.

I ignore her and focus back on Holt. "I was going to ask you." I can't believe he beat me to the punch. I should have figured. We're so in synch, of course the moment I would start thinking about marrying him, he would think about it too.

Holt strokes my face softly. "Well, you kinda just did Boo. You had to wait almost five years for me to figure myself out. You've been nothing but patient and understanding and supportive in all the stages of our relationship. I think the very least I can do is ask you to marry me. And, anyway you kind of had already asked first. I thought you'd prefer it that wait. So technically Boo, you did propose."

I'm shaking my head and smiling and feeling so happy. "Is this real?"

Holt is grinning back. "Very real."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Alright, now let's pop that champagne!" Dad announces and everyone cheers and claps again while I gaze lovingly in the eyes of my future husband.