Jack was in his bedroom dressing when Bobby knocked on the door. “Dad, ma wants you to chop up the celery for the stuffing.” Jack grimaced. He pulled on his shirt and opened his bedroom door. Bobby was still standing there, his little fist poised to knock again. “Tell your ma I’ll be there in a minute,” Jack exclaimed as he ruffled his son’s dark hair. “I need to do something first.” Bobby nodded and retreated toward the kitchen where Lureen was whipping up a Thanksgiving feast. Jack sat down on his bed. He didn’t have anything to do, really, but he wasn’t psyched enough to face his family. Jack wasn’t pleased when Lureen announced that her folks would join them for dinner. Last year was a lot less stressful, as the family joined Lureen’s parents for the holiday over at their spread, and all Jack had to do was sit at the table and eat. But this year, he would have to play host, and try to be the man of the house. Jack wasn’t ready for that. He needed help from Jack Daniels to get through it, but he couldn’t start drinking so early in the day. It just wasn’t right to start the holiday with a buzz. Jack stood up from the bed and steeled himself. He would just have to suck it up and make the best of things.
Lureen looked perfect even as she toiled in a hot kitchen. Her hair was not even made limp by the heat, her mascara didn’t run and her nails looked pretty. Jack wondered how his wife always managed to look so put-together. He shrugged at the thought. Some women were just natural coquettes. Lureen ignored her husband for a second as she fetched the celery and placed it on a cutting board. “Listen honey, I want you to be my sous chef,” Lureen chirped. “You think you can handle that?” Jack didn’t answer. He had no idea what a sous chef was, but taken in context, he figured it to be a person who was told what to do while the main chef did something else. “Yeah, I can do that for you, hon,” Jack exclaimed, his heart not in it.” “Well, don’t sound so cheerful,” Lureen mocked. “Just chop up this celery and you can go on about your business. I don’t need another person in here anyway.” Lureen wiped a small bead of perspiration from her forehead. Jack was silent as he chopped the celery the best way he knew how. When he was done, he left the pieces on the chopping board and walked past his wife out of the kitchen. “Thanks, Jack,” Lureen called after him. Jack spoke not a word as he went in search of Bobby.
Bobby was in his bedroom watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade on his small television. Jack sat down next to him and pulled him into his arms. Bobby protested. “Dad, what’s the matter?” Little Bobby asked as he tried to pull away. But Jack held him tight, heartened already by Bobby’s calming presence. “I just need a hug, son,” Jack whispered as he rocked his boy. Bobby relaxed a bit and allowed his father to hold him. He sensed his dad’s distress, but being so young, he didn’t know what to do or say to make things better. “Watch the parade with me,” Bobby whispered. “After that we can watch the game, K?” Jack looked into his son’s eyes and he began to melt. But just as he was feeling a sense of peace, Lureen interrupted Jack’s growing calm with a proclamation that her parents would be over in about an hour. That did it. “Listen Bobby,” Jack began. “I need to go do something in my room before I watch the parade with you, okay?” Bobby only half heard. He nodded in the affirmative, but his attention was on a float in the image of Charlie Brown. Jack almost ran to his bedroom and retrieved the bottle of Jack Daniels he kept under his bed in a foot locker. He looked at his watch, but didn’t care that it wasn’t even noon. He removed a picture of Ennis that he snapped on their last trip from the same footlocker. A picture of Ennis and a few shots of hard liquor. Jack was ashamed that he couldn’t be stronger, but he needed help if he was to get through dinner with his in-laws. Jack looked at the photo of Ennis lifting a tiny hatchet in his strong hands. “Ennis, I hope you’re happy,” Is all that Jack could manage.