Becoming the Storm
14 To Be Thankful
THANKSGIVING WAS A BLAST. We sent out a general invitation to all families to gather at the ranch. Of course, not everyone came. A few of our clan headed out to their families. Sora was going home with Tim to have Thanksgiving with his parents. That was cool. Pam, Susan, and Nancy all went north together to visit their families, even though Pam’s little brother had put the pressure on to go to the ranch for Thanksgiving. It was something about grandparents coming in. And all of Casa de la Tierra had been invited to Cathy’s house for Thanksgiving. It was a welcome invitation. So far, her family had been only cautiously accepting of Cathy’s involvement with the casa. Jessica flew in Wednesday night and that left us in a bit of a quandary because my parents were booked into the master suite. And Angela’s mom was in the spare. We did a bunch of shuffling around to get the third bedroom on the second floor usable as something more than a walk-in closet. But Jessica surprised us again.
“Maggie told Amy and me there would be room in the dormitory for us. That’s okay, isn’t it?” she asked when she got in. Yeah. That was fine, but wait a minute. What is Maggie doing inviting people to stay at the ranch? It looked like we needed to have an adoption.
John and Bea were staying at the suites by the airport. The Duvals, the Cortaleses, the Davises, and others were also at hotels. The empty side of the duplex where Casa de la Tierra normally resided was filled with parents and families. Every guest room in the barn duplex was filled. Martha and Marshall had even offered their home for a guest and Bart and Sylvia Wood were staying there.
There were so many of us that we didn’t even try to have a formal dinner. It was a lot like it was for Lionel and Sugar’s wedding. We just brought food out of every kitchen on the ranch and set it out. We didn’t have near enough dishes and silverware, so we used paper plates and plastic. I wasn’t monitoring what the adults drank and I knew Bart had passed around a bottle of fine bourbon. It was a good thing we had an ice maker in the studio kitchen. I was pretty sure a couple underage kids had a nip or two, but I wasn’t the cop here.
I saw Sheriff Donaldson take a glass from Rich and shake his head. Rich grinned and shrugged it off. I think the message got out to everyone. The sheriff hadn’t objected to a glass of wine with dinner or a single nip of bourbon, but he wasn’t having kids get drunk, even when their parents were standing by. I reminded myself to thank him. Not just for that little gesture, but for all he’d done for our clan since we first arrived. He’d actually introduced me to all the members of the County Council, the judge, and the DA when we decided to become a community. Not everybody on his force appreciated us.
There was a clinking of glasses and a chant of “Patrón! Patrón! Patrón!” I realized that even though we weren’t having a formal sit-down dinner, the close to 100 guests at the ranch wanted some kind of recognition of the holiday and I was going to give it to them, like it or not. I looked around and grabbed Rose to join me on the one platform that had only been moved out of the way instead of being stored.
“Say something,” I said.
“They said Patrón, not Matrón,” Rose answered. “It’s your gig.”
“Dang! Hi, everybody. Um… Gosh. I didn’t prepare a speech. I just want you all to know that we really like having you here with us for this holiday celebration. Thanksgiving is all about family. You might think my family—I mean the one here at the ranch, not the one in Mishawaka—is a little weird. I know some of you parents might have been reluctant to have your sons and daughters become part of this clan. And I know that there are some parents missing today who just really couldn’t take who their children had become.” I found Adam, Warren, and Jessica together. They were three perfect examples. A little way away, I saw Amber with her face buried against Rich. Mrs. Dr. McCall was working her way over to her. I took a deep breath.
“Still, we are thankful today. We are thankful for our parents, for our friends, for our cousins, and our hearthmates. More than anything else, we are thankful for each other. Everyone in this room and those who couldn’t be with us today. Thanksgiving. Being thankful. Giving thanks. They don’t really require an object. Some of us in the room believe in a God to thank for these blessings. Some believe we owe thanks directly to the earth beneath our feet. And all of us are giving our thanks directly to other people in this room. That’s why I’m thanking you. Each one of you in my casa, my clan, my tribe, my community. Thank you for your faith, and support, and most of all for your love. I love each of you and I love all of you. Happy Thanksgiving.”
There was a massive clinking of glasses and I was handed a light shot of Bart’s bourbon with ice. I raised my glass and everyone shouted, “Hear, hear!”
I may have been the only one who hadn’t had more than that one shot, but we’d hired a bus to transport everyone who wasn’t staying at the ranch, so I wasn’t worried. At eight o’clock, the bus arrived and the guests who weren’t staying on the ranch boarded. We even had them deliver the Swansons, Jacobses, and Schmidts (Maribelle’s parents) to their homes, even though they were all less than a mile away. Several of the parents who had driven down for the day got busy on the phones and got motel reservations when they realized we were serious about them not driving after drinking. The bus was packed.
I never had time on Thursday, but late Friday morning, I called Geoff. They hadn’t been able to make it back for Thanksgiving, but I wanted to wish him a happy holiday, too. Then I needed to call my sister. For some reason, I felt I needed to call Geoff first.
“Hey, guy. Happy Thanksgiving. How’s it going?” I said when Geoff answered the phone.
“Oh. Hi, Brian. You, too. Okay.” Damn, that was brief.
“We missed you yesterday. I wanted to make sure you’d be back for Christmas. I know WSU is on the same schedule we are. You guys will get here, won’t you?” I asked.
“Um… I don’t know. We might not be able to make it. We’re pretty broke right now,” Geoff said.
“Geoff? You guys are getting your royalties from the shows, aren’t you? I know they’re only a supplement, but you need to let me know if you can’t make it on what you’re earning.”
“Just a minute.” I could hear the strain in his voice as the phone was set down. In the distance I heard a door close. Then he came back. “Bri… God! Robbie tried to kill herself.” Oh shit! I thought they were doing so well.
“What can I do to help?”
“Kev and I have kind of spent everything we have to get her care. She was in the hospital—or a care facility—for a month. What’ll I do if I lose her, Brian? I’m queer as a three-dollar bill, but I love her.” I could hear him crying.
“Geoff, buddy, we’ve been friends since we were eight years old. I’m here for you. I’ll help with her care. I’ll send you plane tickets to come home. I’ll come out there if you need me. Tell me about what happened and what you need.”
“It was her fucking mother,” Geoff spat. “I know she’s mentally ill and I shouldn’t hate her for that, but… She found our phone number. Robyn didn’t tell us. Her mother called her every day. It was a non-stop litany of what a bad person she was and how she’d be miserable all her life. She didn’t tell us. I’d have fucking unplugged the phone. Changed the number. Blocked her calls. But Robyn… I guess she believed her. God, Brian! She lives with a couple of gay guys. She’s never had sex. Kevin and I are the only people she’s ever allowed to touch her. And Kevin not much. What am I going to do?”
My friend was in misery and I had no fucking idea what to tell him. Except…
“Geoff, Hannah tried to kill herself when we were apart during high school. Nikki was close to suicide back in high school. I’m not telling you I know what you’re going through. I can only know my own hell, not yours. But I can pass on a few words to you that were given to me,” I said. I took another deep breath. “You can’t fix Robyn. You can be there for her. You can hold her and love her. But you can’t fix her. When she knows she has your support, she’ll work on fixing herself. And you can’t ask ‘why?’ because she doesn’t know and there might not be any answer to the question anyway. She’s ill. If you love her, what you can do is let her know that. Have you ever told her, Geoff?”
“I… I’m gay. How would telling her I love her help?”
“Because you are the only one. Her mother spouts hateful things to her. Her father has all he can handle trying to keep his wife from harm. Kevin is still a bit of a stranger. It’s you she trusts. You are the one who loves her. She needs to know that. And don’t be afraid to ask her what she needs. Maybe she needs you to take out the phone. All you can do is be there. And stay healthy. Are you and Kevin okay?”
“Yeah. He’s been as torn up about this as I have. Feels like it’s his fault for getting between Robyn and me. I mean, he knows it isn’t. But you know how those feelings can slam you when you least expect it.”
“I do. We all want to take the blame when someone we love hurts. I’m going to send you three tickets home, Geoff. Find out your schedule and Kevin’s. Let me know what dates you can fly. You all three need to be with us for a while. You all need to know you have a family here who loves you. Will you do that, buddy?”
“Yeah, Bri. We’ll do it. God, we need to see you guys.”
“Love you, brother. We’ll do whatever is necessary.”
I guess I stayed upstairs too long. Everything Geoff said reminded me of how awful it had been during those days after Hannah hurt herself and I felt isolated from everyone. I never got around to calling my sister. I just sat there in the chair upstairs and cried. I’m not sure when it was that Dani came up and found me. By that time, I was pretty much incoherent. I couldn’t even talk to her. She curled up in my lap and held me. She cried with me. She didn’t even know what was wrong and never asked me a question about it. She just held me and cried with me.
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