Over-the-Counter Encounter
8. Thanksgiving
I was clear to all that Dean and Matt were together. They now share Dean's apartment and scheduled their life activities in the joint manner to which all couples aspire. Matt's job kept him busy on some nights. In the past, this was not a problem as the work was interesting and living alone was not. Now, he tried to get home as soon as possible. As interesting as network packet programming is to greater good of mankind, having dinner with Dean was more important to Matthood in general. Less overtime at the department store was now a hallmark of Dean's behavior.
As time progressed, it was just being in the same room together that made life worth living. Generally, Matt was in bed early, while Dean liked to sit up and watch old movies. The constant touching and cuddling gave way to the comforts of the hearth, the same wonderful coziness that has kept all creatures bound together since the fish came ashore.
Matt's favorite time of the year was autumn; and his favorite holiday was Thanksgiving. He looked forward to being with his folks and devouring his mother's cooking. From the minute Dean came into his life, he described his mother's cranberry sauce and sausage-cornbread stuffing. He would roll his eyes back and dream of the aroma.
"Just wait 'til you taste that dressing," he said. "Her touch is in every morsel. There's nothing like it here or even on Mount Olympus."
Dean would humor him and try to think whether his mother ever attempted such feats of culinary magic anywhere to his memory. It was a strain to remember when Viv opened a can of condensed soup.
When Thanksgiving came, the family assembled in Lincroft. That first Thanksgiving was special. Dean was accepted with the usual warmth and ambiguity of being "Matt's friend." Dean, however, was completely taken by the meal and the manner of its serving. The yams were not merely cooked, they were presented. There was a sauce for everything, from asparagus to mince pie. He was so full he needed to open a button or two.
Mrs. Kieler was all smiles and attention. She pushed plate after plate of goodness at him until he finally needed to push back from the table and retreat to the living room. There he sat with Matt and Mary and talked about nothing, always the best after dinner conversation - nothing heavy - nothing light; just good old nothing.
"I have never tasted anything quite so good," Dean said to Matt.
"I told you," said Dean. "You need to go an extra time to the gym next week."
"And you too," said Dean. "This is so relaxing here."
They stared out the big picture window from their perch on the couch.
"I love to sit here and just watch the leaves," said Matt. "Good food, lingering aroma, the sound of mom giving dad orders and Mary nearby. It's heaven."
"Hey, what about me," said Dean.
"With you here now, it's Paradise."
"That's more like it," said Dean.
"It would be best still, if it snowed," said Matt.
"Too early," said Dean.
Then there would be sadness. The holiday was over. Matt would become more demure than usual now that the anticipation and feast were over and the mundane world returned. But there was always another Thanksgiving Day at the Kielers next year.
One year, Mrs. Kieler invited Dean's mother. Dean was a bit cautious knowing how proper Mrs. Kieler was and how relentlessly honest his mother was. He had managed to keep them apart for a few years. But it was inevitable. Dean coached Viv to watch her foul language.
"These people are very stylish Viv," he said. "They never curse. They live very well ordered lives."
"Fuck, are they living," said Viv. "And how did their little darling queer son get to know the ropes if they didn't use a curse word. Shit, shithead - I'm not used to being turned off this way."
"Please."
So, Viv agreed to dress with less fringe and cover girl; and to say very little. She actually would have pulled it off had Mrs. Kieler been more judicious in her rituals. When they were all gathered around the table holding hands for the thanksgiving prayer, Mrs. Kieler began:
"Our guest, Mrs. Taylor will lead us in prayer."
"Shit," said Viv, "I hafta work for this grub. Well I guess if that's the price. Everyone shut you're eyes and think happy thoughts. God almighty, it's me Viv; and it's been a long time. But thanks for everything - food, friends, stuff, my little shithead here; all of it. Amen."
The meal went on in silence, Mrs. Kieler smiling the entire time as if nothing had happened. Viv felt the stern glare of "her little shithead." Matt thought the whole grace was most appropriate and from the heart. Mary loved every word of it. It was not unpredictable that after the last morsel, Viv had to leave for another appointment.
After five years of Thanksgiving meals, Dean also looked forward to this event as much as Matt. Now, when they came to the door, there was less formality and a much warmer expression of acceptance. They still never discussed Dean's relationship to Matt; at least not as openly as they did Mary's relationships with the various boyfriends that showed up at the table each year. But then, one Thanksgiving, Mr. Kieler asked Matt to give him a lift to the store. His car was in the shop and Mrs. K was out of marjoram; and ingredient on which the entire day revolved around. Dean did not go, but sat on the couch watching the leaves. As he sat he did not notice Mrs. Kieler sitting in the chair opposite until she cleared her throat.
"Mrs. Kieler," he said. "Taking a rest. You're killing me with the aroma of that turkey."
"You're such a dear," she said. "You're so polite and respectful. I just wanted you to know that."
"Thank you."
"I also wanted to let you know that when Danny used to come around back in Houston, I was always worried."
"Worried?"
"Well, Danny was so charming and bubbly. He was more like daughter than a son. But, he had a disquieting fire that made Matthew unsettling at times. Well, Danny's gone; his soul is finally at rest."
"Yes," Dean said.
"I shouldn't talk like this to you. I guess Danny sometimes crops up when you two talk."
"Actually, never," said Dean.
"Odd," she said. "But I'm glad. I'm glad you are settled. All I ever want is for the happiness of my children; and you make my Matthew happy."
Dean stared into her eyes. They were Matt's eyes. Without a doubt, this was Matt's mother. The tender charm that attracted Dean to Matt since that day over the tie counter was clearly evident in this woman who sat opposite him.
"I love your son, Mrs. Kieler," said Dean. "I love him beyond myself."
Mrs. Kieler smiled with the warmth of a summer's day in autumn. Those eyes twinkled with a happy tear.
"Dean," she said, "Sweet Dean. You may call me Mom."
Dean's chin quivered and a tear gushed from his eyes. He hugged her and kissed her cheek. Later, he would say the grace.