Shug by Jenny Han

Author:Jenny Han
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781442466463
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books For Young Readers
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

chapter 23

My whole life I wanted to eat at Mark’s house for Thanksgiving dinner. I almost got my wish a few years back when Daddy couldn’t come home because of work, and Mama got so drunk she forgot to put the turkey in the oven. I was looking forward to eating that turkey all day, and then dinnertime came, and I asked Mama, when do we get to eat? She said, “Damnation!” And that turkey was still frozen solid in the refrigerator. I threw a fit—all I ever wanted was that turkey! Turkey for dinner and turkey sandwiches all week. I said that I was going to the Findleys’ for dinner, and Mama said absolutely not. While I was crying upstairs, she went to Kentucky Fried Chicken and bought a twenty-piece bucket. She got a family-size portion of mashed potatoes, extra biscuits, and two corn on the cobs just for me. Mama got that part right at least.

Thanksgiving is a big deal at Mark’s house. They even hang a turkey flag on the front porch. Mrs. Findley starts cooking three days in advance. Food prep, she calls it, so there’s less to do on the big day. I’d help her by doing little things—chopping onions and rolling out piecrust, stuff like that. She always makes exactly the same dishes, and I know it all by heart. Turkey with giblet gravy, fresh-baked yeast rolls, cranberry sauce from scratch, sweet corn pudding, green bean casserole, real mashed potatoes, whipped sweet potatoes with baby marshmallows, oyster stuffing (homemade, not box), pumpkin pie and pecan pie (homemade, not store bought). Mark’s grandparents come all the way from Detroit, and the men work on Mr. Findley’s antique train set. I’m not sure what the women do. I guess they cook. I never bothered to ask.

This year we’re having guests too. Well, we are now, anyway. Daddy called last Monday and said that he’d invited the Honeycutts over for Thanksgiving dinner. You can just bet that Mama wasn’t too happy about that one. She lit into him good. She called Daddy a selfish, good-for-nothing louse of a husband. She also said that the last time she saw him, he’d put on some weight, and maybe he’d be better off skipping Thanksgiving dinner altogether. I’m surprised the whole neighborhood didn’t hear some of the names she was calling him.

Mama cleans the house all week. She even vacuums. She assigns Celia and me jobs too. I cleaned the downstairs bathroom, made sure the guest towels were out, and Celia dusted the family room. She’s also in charge of the biscuits and stuffing. I’m in charge of the yams and the pumpkin pie. That leaves the collard greens, mashed potatoes, and turkey for Mama. Daddy doesn’t get any jobs because he comes home the night before Thanksgiving, so late that I’m already in bed.

I hear the car pull in the driveway. There was a time when I’d run downstairs so I could be the first to see him, but now I just stay in bed, straining to hear Mama and him talk.

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