The Words We Leave Unspoken(43)

“Well,” my mother says, “I’m thankful for this family and for our health.” I look at Charley and Charley looks at me, our eyes lock for a moment before I turn away.

Grey clears his throat and says, “I’m thankful for all the amazing people in my life and for your gracious invitation. Thank you for having me.” I am just about to raise my glass in a toast when Grey looks at Charley and adds, “And I’m thankful for you, Charley. For reminding me what I’ve been missing in life.”

I watch all the color drain from Charley’s face as the table falls silent.

“I’m thankful for Aunt Charley too,” Max blurts out and you can see the relief in Charley’s eyes as the moment is softened, the attention lifted from her and centered on Max.

“Thank you, Max,” Charley says. Grey’s eyes are still fixed on Charley while I watch her look at everything, anything, but Grey. I stand with my wine glass in hand and say, “Happy Thanksgiving everyone. Cheers. Now dish up.”

“Cheers,” carry on from around the room accompanied by the chime of crystal as everyone raises their glass in toast. Dishes are passed around the table one by one as conversation is sparked. John and Grey talk about the stock market as Mother and Olivia discuss the school play. Max is asking Charley, over Olivia’s head, how many cookies he will get to eat after dinner and I sit and take it all in, feeling grateful yet utterly exhausted once again and unable to eat more than a few bites of the dinner that I spent the entire morning preparing.



I stand at the kitchen sink lost in thought as I watch John, Grey, Olivia, and Max in the back yard, fully engaged in a game of flag football. They run frantically back and forth beyond the glass doors, surrounded by white clouds of breath, completely oblivious to the wintry temperature.

“You okay?” Charley asks from behind me as she sets more dirty dishes on the counter. My hands are submerged in a sink-full of warm, soapy water as I mindlessly scrub the platinum serving ware that I use only on special occasions.

“Yeah,” I sigh. She stands next to me, picks up a wet plate that I already washed and dries it with a blue and white striped dishtowel, as the backyard football game catches her attention.

“Doesn’t it make you wonder about your future just a little bit when you see how good he is with my kids?” I ask quietly of Grey.

She sighs next to me and a moment goes by before she answers. “It makes me think about his future, Gwen, but not mine. I don’t see a future with him.”

“Come on, Charley. You don’t watch him and wonder for just a second what it would be like to get married and have kids?”

“Wow. Married with kids? That’s a stretch, don’t you think?”

I start to open my mouth to say something but suddenly Grey is opening one of the glass doors. He steps inside, his presence almost too big for the usually vast space of my kitchen.

“Just grabbing another beer for John and me. Do you girls need any help?” Grey asks politely.

“We got it. Just keep those kids busy and I’ll be happy,” I say with a smile.

Charley is quiet beside me. She turns to put a dish away in the cabinet and bumps into Grey. I keep my back to them, giving them a little privacy.

“Charley, can I talk to you for a minute? In private,” I hear Grey whisper.

“No, Grey. You’ve said enough today, don’t you think?” Charley says quietly.

“Not nearly enough. We need to talk about this.” Grey is still whispering and I struggle to hear while I continue to scrub dishes in the sink. Part of me feels like I should give them more privacy but the better part of me is too curious to leave the room.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I hear Charley say more loudly and then I hear dishes clash and the slam of a cabinet door.

“Come on Charley. This isn’t over, not for me.”

“Yeah, well that’s too bad because I’ve already moved on.”

I’m shocked at how hostile she is toward him. I slowly turn around just in time to see Charley walk out of the room, leaving Grey standing with his hands on his hips and his head hung low. I can’t help but feel sorry for him.

“I’m sorry Grey,” I manage to say as I dry my hands on a dishtowel.

“Not your problem Gwen, but thanks,” he says. He grabs two beer bottles from the fridge and heads back outside.

My mother walks into the kitchen at that moment, her hands spread out as she balances several dirty wine glasses between her fingers.

“Mom, can you finish washing these for me? I’ll be right back.”

“Sure, honey,” she answers while setting the wine glasses one at a time on the kitchen counter.

I find Charley in the family room standing with her hands over her face.

“Charley, don’t you think that was a little harsh, even for you?” She drops her hands and looks over at me.

“Stay out of it, Gwen,” she snaps.

“No. It’s Thanksgiving and Grey is my guest. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“No? This is my family and he’s intruding. He shouldn’t be here.”

“We invited him, Charley. He’s welcome here. Don’t be rude.”

“Rude? He should keep his mouth shut then. And yes, you’re right, you invited him. Without even asking me if it was okay. You know how tortured I’ve been about this. Why would you do that?”