Chapter 2

      Thanksgiving Disguised As a Feast

       Tori & Kevin

      The drive to my mom’s house reminded me of just how much I loved the fall. The collage of orange and red leaves glowing in the sunlight always made me think of my childhood. I imagined myself playing in the orchards, running through the corn maze trying to lose my dad, eating candy corn, and picking out the biggest pumpkin I could find. It made me smile. I missed my dad. It had been a year since his death. In fact, two life-changing developments had occurred within that last year: my wedding, then two days later the passing of my father. That was the reason I agreed to marry Kevin so quickly after his proposal in the first place. My father was ill and we all knew he didn’t have much time. It meant everything to him to walk his only daughter down the aisle. So despite not being ready for marriage, I recited my vows in front of eighty-five of Kevin and my closest family members and friends.

       Beep! Beep! Beep!

      The horn took me away from my memories. It was Kevin’s way of announcing our arrival. He did it every time we pulled up to my mom’s brick ranch home. Now she was ill too. Her sight was failing her. So Kevin and I were trying to spend as much time with her as possible, especially during holidays.

      It was Thanksgiving Day and she had managed to cook us up a traditional turkey feast. Cooking was something my mom excelled at. She could do it with her eyes closed, let alone legally blind.

      I jumped out the passenger seat and hurried down the rest of the driveway to my mother’s doorstep, where she stood with her arms out waiting to greet us with warm hugs.

      “Happy Thanksgiving, Mama.” I kissed her on her cheek as we embraced.

      “Happy Thanksgiving, baby.” She kissed me back.

      “Hey, Mom.” Kevin hugged and kissed her next. “You’re looking good.” She loved his compliments, said he was just like my dad in that way. It was probably why she always thought Kevin was so perfect for me.

      “Are you two hungry?” she asked, leading us into the home I grew up in.

      “Starving,” Kevin said. He had taken a strong liking to my mom as well. She filled the void of him not having his own mother.

      In the beginning of our relationship Kevin hardly ever talked about his mom, and whenever I asked about her, he’d cut the conversation short. It wasn’t until later that I found out she had died of a drug overdose when he was a teenager. I felt sorry for him, knowing that it had a huge impact on him. So when he and my mom connected, it was electric. He was the son she never had and she was the mom he’d always wished he had. I couldn’t have asked for a better situation.

      “Tori, honey, set the table. Kevin, go wash your hands,” my mom instructed.

      We did what we were told, parting ways briefly. It was right then that my phone alerted me to a text message. I looked down at the screen and saw that it was from him. I hadn’t heard from him since our first physical encounter a week ago. A bit of excitement ran through my veins, but also nervousness. I had a short window of time before Kevin would emerge from the bathroom. I opened the message.

       JuJu & Ferrari

      His skin tone flushed and veins popping out of his head, Ferrari thumbed away at the keyboard on his cell phone.

       I can’t take it anymore. It’s getting worse and worse. What are we waiting for? We finally met each other in person. We finally made love. You still love me after that? Then what are we waiting for?

      He stood up off the king-sized platform bed. He tossed his phone on the stark white duvet cover and rubbed his hands over his head from front to back, pacing the master suite. He anxiously waited for the beep that would let him know she had responded to his text.

      He made his way over to the floor-to-ceiling window that separated him from Atlanta. It was ironic that he felt trapped in such a big, open city. But that was how JuJu made him feel. Between the verbal and physical abuse and the threats to have him deported to his native country of Brazil, Ferrari often felt helpless. Sometimes he looked at that window and imagined himself jumping out.

      He walked back over to the bed and picked up his phone. No response. He worried that too much time had passed since the last time they communicated. Was that all she had wanted from him? Or had she moved on? He logged onto Facebook. Maybe she had messaged him. That was more private than texting back and forth. He needed to hear from her.

       Don’t think it was my choosing to not get in touch with you before now. She did it again. Almost killed me this time. Then held me up at the lake house for four days with no food and no cell service. She just brought me back to the condo. And only so she could entertain guests at the lake house for Thanksgiving dinner. She told everybody I flew home for the holidays. But the truth is, she locked me in here. If I leave I will have no way of getting back in. I hope you understand. It is she who is the problem. Not you. Not me. If you tell me you still love me, I will take away the problem once and for all. I just need to hear from you. Please.

       Ferrari