I should have known by then that life would never be returning to "normal" as I knew it.
Normal might have been Nova and I deciding to go "steady" in light of recent events, "normal" might even have been sneaking around and hiding it from everyone (except Rick, of course, who obviously knew what was going on). Alas, no, Nova and I danced around the subject for over a month, during which she snatched me aside for two more heavy makeout sessions before, once again, pretending it never happened. By the time Thanksgiving drew near, I felt like I was going insane trying to define our relationship. I considered talking to Rick, but ninety percent of the time he had the emotional range of a dairy cow and I didn't want to risk it. If I thought things were complicated after the corn maze, it was nothing compared to when Nova got the letter.
"You. Me. Creek. Now."
I sighed and hung up my phone, shaking my head. It sounded urgent, so I put away my book (A Separate Peace, Knowles), threw on my warmest jacket, and trudged out into the snow, wondering what possibly could have riled up Nova enough to want to meet outside in the (literally) freezing cold. My footsteps threw up a poof of white powder with every step. The winters here were cold and snowy, but also surprisingly dry. I crunched my way through Mr. Bennett's pasture and down into the gully, hoping avidly that I wasn't about to jumped for a surprise make-out session. Yes, even I had my limits.
"Look at this shit!" she yelled as I rounded the corner to our clearing, breath steaming up in a great white cloud. She tossed a torn envelope at me and crossed her arms, one hip cocked, looking about as pissed as I've ever seen her in my life. I pulled out a faded old photograph and several sheets of paper folded together. I glanced at the picture really quick--a familiar looking toddler and a rough-looking guy smiling up at the camera-- before Nova snatched it away and stuffed it in her pocket. She gestured for me to read the letter and began pacing in front of me as I sat down on the couch, (literally) freezing my ass off, and began to read the letter:
Dear Natalie,
Hi, this is your Aunt Claudia (Billy's sister) and I want to invite you to our family Thanksgiving dinner again this year. I know we didn't part of such good terms last year, but this year will be different, I promise. We're going to be having a big ol' turkey fixed up from the farm and I'll make my famous lime jell-o!
The letter itself wasn't particularly interesting--just details about what the family seemed to have been up to over the past year. The very last line, however, caught my eye immediately and I suddenly knew exactly why Nova made me come down here:
Oh, and yes, your dad will definitely be coming to Thanksgiving dinner this year!
Hope to see you there!
Claudia
I looked up at her blankly. "Well? Are you going to go?"
"Are you kidding me? Of course I'm not going to go!" She began ranting about how, last year at the dinner, half the people had gotten drunk and gotten the entire group into a massive fight, complete with thrown food, a broken window, and several guns pulled on people. I read over the letter once again, wondering how it could possibly be that bad--Nova's family sounded like they were a reasonably put-together bunch, at least according to her aunt. I shivered, wondering if it was okay to suggest we go back to one of our houses, but I kept my mouth shut.
"I think you should go," I said finally, handing her back the letter. She studied me carefully, trying to figure out if I was joking or not. After rightfully deciding I was serious she started patting her pockets until she found her pack of cigarettes, of which only two were gone.
"Dammit, Puck," she growled. She handed me a cigarette and I sighed. Nova was going to kill me some day--literally. "You read that last part, right?"
"Yeah," I said, lighting up and hoping this one went better than the last one. "What, you don't want to see your dad?"
"It's not that, it's just..." She trailed off, taking a deep drag and making a face.
"What is it?"
"Nothing, Puck. Just shut up and smoke with me."
For once, I didn't actually feel like listening to her. "You made me start sorting out my shit," I said pointedly. "I think you should take your own advice." Nova looked at me for a long moment before sighing and plopping down on the couch next to me.
"I know, I know. It's just... family, you know?" She blew out a forceful stream of smoke before smiling weakly at me.
"Hey, if I actually go, will you go with me?"
It only took me a moment to consider; for one, Nova was in need and I, of course, was going to help her as usual. Furthermore, if I had to sit through "anti-Thanksgiving" with my dad—where we ate frozen TV dinners and watched the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special—one more time, I was seriously considering asking Rick to back over me with his truck.
"Sure, I'll come with you. It couldn't be that bad, right?"
As it turned out, it actually could be that bad.
Thanksgiving day, Nova's aunt dropped us off at the door of an ancient-looking one story ranch house in Morgan county, about a ninety-minute drive from Dale. Since she didn't even need directions (and didn't stick around for more than thirty seconds after we exited the car) I guessed that they had made this journey before, probably several times. We hadn't even made it to the front door when a Rottweiler the size of a lion busted out of the screen door and instantly flattened me against the gravel driveway, licking me mercilessly and leaving long, gooey strings of saliva all over my face and the front of the collared shirt Nova had insisted I wear.
Nova had even put on a dress--yes, an actual dress, with leggings and everything--and put her hair up in a neat ponytail for the occasion.
"RONALD-GODDAMN-REAGAN, GIT THE HELL OFF TH' GUESTS!!!"
The scariest, fieriest woman I had ever laid my eyes on burst out the front door wielding a flour-spattered rolling pin. She looked to be in her mid-forties, with a blaze of curly red hair pouring out of her skull in an untamable mass. The dog took off around the other side of the house with a terrified whine and I picked myself up out of the dirt, trying to clean my face off with my sleeves.
"Hi, I'm Natalie's aunt, Claudia. You must be Andy!" She stuck her hand out warmly. When I reached out to shake it, she pulled me into a tight hug. "I'm so glad you could make it! We've heard so much about you!" She ushered us in the front door and down a long hallway after giving Nova a huge hug, too. We could hear the racket of pots and pans and what sounded like the entire roster of a football team engaged in what must have been an animated discussion just ahead of us.
"Heard so much about me?" I raised my eyes at Nova with questioning grin.
"Oh, whatever," she said, rolling her eyes and punching me softly in the shoulder.
We rounded the corner and ran smack into the biggest, scruffiest, oddest, most rambunctious group of rednecks I had ever encountered in my short life. Introductions were a whirlwind of names like "Cletus" and "Jim-Bob," the smell of cigarettes and chew tobacco, and missing teeth. Several of the bigger cousins and uncles looked me up and down in a way that made me break into cold sweats, and an ancient old guy I took to be Nova's grandfather actually put a hand on the grip of the revolver on his hip as she introduced him (Grampa Skeeter, she called him--seriously). In a flash, I was commissioned into helping clean two massive turkeys with a bear of a man sporting a wild beard and a John Deere hat.
"So, you 'n' Natalie seein' each other, that right?"
I gulped audibly as the man reached his hand bodily into the bird's chest cavity and tore out a handful of entrails. "Um no sir." I offered, wishing my voice would cooperate. "We're just friends, sir."
He looked at me for a long moment. "You queer, boy?"
"Excuse me?"
"Anyone with eyes an' a brain knows Natalie there's a fine lookin' specimen," he chuckled easily. "Hell, I'm as open minded as th' next fella. I jes' wanna know if you're queer, ya know, so I don' offend ya!"
"Mudder, you're not giving Andy too much shit over here are you?" Nova appeared out of nowhere and pushed her way between us.
"Wait, Mudder? As in Tommy 'Mudder'?" I asked.
"The one an' only!" Mudder boomed with a laugh. "Yeah, me 'n' Pumpkin here's dad was best friend in school ya know. Still comin' around fer Thanksgiving dinner twenty years later!"
"Speaking of which," Nova interjected. "Have you heard from him yet? When's he supposed to be here?"
Mudder's eyes clouded a little. "I don' know Pumpkin," he said, shaking his head. "He better show up soon, though, or his Ma's gonna whup his ass again over th' phone."
"If she doesn't, I will," Nova growled, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me toward the living room. "See you later, Mudder! Andy's gotta meet Gramma!"
"Good luck!" Mudder yelled with a laugh I wasn't too thrilled about.
"He's nice," I said, looking back over my shoulder as he plunged a kitchen knife into the turkey and began hacking it apart. "Not what I expected, but nice."
"Yeah, he was from the big city when he became friends with my dad," Nova said, steering me past a middle-aged couple getting awfully friendly in the hallway. "Hanging out with the family for two decades, well, you saw... "countrified" him, I'll just say," she said with a laugh. After we were done helping Mudder carve the turkeys she led me into a separate bedroom, which I thought was empty, until a little old voice piped up from an armchair in the corner.
"Natalie, is that you?" Nova's grandmother must have been in her mid-seventies and looked every bit of it. She appeared to be resting quietly with a blanket draped over her lap, basically the opposite of what the rest of the family was doing. Nova kneeled down next to her and beckoned me over.
"Yeah, it's me Gramma!" she said with a big, entirely genuine smile. "I bought a really good friend with me, too: this here is Andy." I stepped forward and grasped her hand outstretched awkwardly, unsure of whether I should shake it or not.
"How nice of you to come with Natalie!" she said, smiling up at me. "She usually just sits in the corner and sulks!"
"Gramma!" Nova blushed furiously.
"It's true, and I don't blame you, dear. The house is full of these goddamn hooligans, and your father... well, that boy needs a whupping every year, huh?" They shared a laugh before her Gramma turned to me. "So, you're Natalie's friend, hmm?"
"Yes," I said, looking at Nova questioningly. "We've been friends since she moved in next door... ten years ago, I think?"
"Andy, is it?" Gramma leaned in, a sweet, old, toothless smile on her face. "Are you treating my sweet granddaughter like a princess? Any boy who dates a Fletcher ought to be a right gentleman, now."
"Uh, we're not dating, ma'am." I tried to explain nervously, trying to avoid Nova's eyes in case I saw confirmation. "We're just... friends, I guess."
"Is that so?" She turned to Nova and grasped both of her hands gently. "Natalie, the poor boy isn't queer, is he?"
Nova groaned out loud. "Gramma!" she said, rolling her eyes apologetically. I had to hand it to them: apparently, Fletcher's weren't afraid to pipe up with their opinions. Nova was definitely, undoubtedly related to the whole crazy bunch.
Dinner was called and we all gathered around the tables set up in the kitchen and living room, about forty of us in all. Everyone held hands as we bowed our heads and one of Nova's uncles began to pray: "Dear Lord, thank you for this gathering of family... and friend... this afternoon." He paused his prayer so half the family could look up at me skeptically. "Please give us your blessing dear Lord, and help the Huskers beat the pants off Oklahoma--"
"Aww, shut th' hell up!"
"Make me, ya yellow bellied--!"
"Both ya'll jus' shut th' hell up an' finish th' goddamn prayer!" Grampa Skeeter interjected loudly and somewhat ironically.
In a flash, we were seated and digging into the best food I had ever eaten in my entire life, laughing and joking with the rowdiest of Nova's relatives. It took me a while to completely fathom what Nova was sharing with me in her family--sure, they were embarrassing, obtrusive, and lacked any sort of tact whatsoever, but in a way, they were exactly like her. To share that with me was... well, impressive, for her. As close as we were, she was like a book to me, with many of the chapters still hidden under a layer of self-applicated emotional whiteout. I couldn't remember the last time I had really enjoyed myself with anyone, let alone a group of strangers.
Nova kept glancing toward the door; finally, with an internal sigh, I remembered that her dad was supposed to be making an appearance. An hour and a half later, we were sitting on the porch swing out front, a Pabst Blue Ribbon (donated to us by Mudder, of course) in each of our hands, watching the long driveway.
"Nova?"
She took a sip of her beer, completely engrossed in thought. She had the photograph from the letter with her, and caressed it slowly, absentmindedly between her fingers. With a jolt, I realized it was a picture of her and her dad from ages past. I had to say her name twice more before she acknowledged me.
"Your dad... he promises to come every year, doesn't he?"
She looked at me for a long, sad moment before nodding silently.
"He's never come, has he?"
A single tear rolled out from the corner of Nova's sapphire eye.
Without thinking, I reached out and wiped it away gently. With a choked cry, Nova buried her face suddenly in my shirt and began sobbing uncontrollably into my shirt. I froze, feeling my heart rip right in two. I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face in her hair, enveloping myself in her cherry scent while trying to find some encouraging words to say. That's the thing about words, though: if you're not careful, you can do more harm than good. So I shut my mouth, closed my eyes, and just held her while she cried.
"Every... every fucking year he... he does this!" She managed to choke out, finally. "And... every year... I tell myself... I'm not going to come! I'm tired... tired of the... the bullshit, Puck!"
Her sobbing resumed and I patted her back, suddenly feeling like I was in way over my head. We sat like that for fifteen minutes, Nova crying and me wondering, wondering why the hell anyone who could have someone so incredible, so irreplaceable and just disappoint them constantly. I suddenly was very, very afraid that no one, not even me, was ever going to be able to fill the gaping hole her father had left in her heart.
"Hey, Puck?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm... dammit, I'm sorry."
"For what?"
She lifted her head up and smiled weakly at me through her veil of tears. "For dumping this on you, duh."
I moved a thumb across her cheek and wiped away a tear streak. "Hey, that's what I'm here for, I guess."
"God, I don't know what I'd do without you, Puck," she said, leaning against my shoulder once again and wrapping her arms around me.
"I think you'd just be a lonely, angry alcoholic," I said dryly.
We both burst out laughing until our sides hurt. We spent the afternoon rocking slowly back and forth on the swing and watching the road, patiently--though not hopefully--waiting for a ghost to show up.