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Thanksgiving was arguably the most stressful day in the Stevens household. They hosted both her mother and father’s extended families each year, and of course Team Stevens had to be perfect every step of the way.
So for April that means helping with the cleaning, setting the good china on the table, wearing an itchy dress that her mother picks out, and not playing outside with her cousins in fear of ruining said dress. And although that leaves her in the kitchen alone with the adults, she sits up straight as an arrow and does what she’s told with a smile, regardless of how bored she really is.
But this year is different. This year her grandmother promised to let her help with the homemade pumpkin pie and April was ecstatic to have a fun task.
“When is grandma expected?”
“You asked me that five minutes ago,” her mother sighs, giving April a stern look to wipe the pout off her face. “She’ll get here when she gets here.”
Before she even has the chance to pretend not to sulk, the front door opens and April hears a familiar voice. Dashing out of the kitchen, she rushes into the foyer immediately finding the one person she’s been waiting for.
“Can we make the pie now?”
“April,” her father growls, shooting her a glare for her terrible manners.
“Oh, don’t scold her,” the woman chastises, handing her coat off to her son-in-law. “It’s a special day. She’s allowed to be excited.”
John mutters something under his breath that April is sure she’ll hear about later, but for right now she doesn’t care. She’s buzzing with anticipation, feeling the energy threatening to blow from under a tight lid.
Her grandmother crouches down to get on the little girl’s level, seemingly just as excited as she is. “Can you keep a secret?”
April nods.
The woman reaches into her pocket, pulling out a crinkled piece of stained paper with faded script written across. “I have the recipe memorized, but I figured you might want to hold onto this so you can do it by yourself one day.” April grins, carefully accepting the little paper and the big responsibility. “Go put it in a safe place and then meet me in the kitchen.”
She does as she’s told, running up to her room and sticking the recipe in the pages of her favorite book, certain she’ll study it later when she’s supposed to be sleeping.
A cloud of flower forms around them as April’s pour is a little too overzealous. Surprisingly she isn't at all reprimanded for her intensity or her mistake, her grandma just laughs and fans it away.
“Careful!” her mother groans, returning to the kitchen to already find a mess. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“She’s ten years old. She can handle it.”
Her mother still doesn’t look convinced, however, the older woman holds her firm stare. “Fine, but I don’t want that dress ruined.”
“Then get the girl an apron!”
Mixing the bowl of ingredients on the counter while in an apron makes April feel very adult, even if she has to stand on a chair to reach. She’s doing all the hands on work as her grandmother just gives instructions, tips, and praise for a job well done. It makes the task feel less like a job and for the first time in years, April isn’t bored on Thanksgiving.
“How’s school going?”
“She got a hundred on another spelling test,” her mother boasts from over the stove.
“That’s great, dear,” she grins, giving the girl a pat on the back. April holds her head up high just like she’s been told, soaking in the praise for her hard work. “Tell me about your friends and the fun stuff though.”
She sputters for a second, a little confused. Nobody ever really asks her if school is fun. They just ask if she’s doing well with her studies. Her father always says to never settle for less than the best and her mother always says that homework comes before play. But once April adjusts to the new question, she feels herself grinning. She beams far more proudly now than she did just a moment ago over her spelling grade.
“Well there’s Hannah B, and Sterling, and Blair. They like to play soccer at recess. Sterling isn’t as good as Blair, but she tries. They’re twins by the way.”
She’s about to go into the story of how she teamed up with her friend to beat the other twin at her own game when her father steps into the kitchen, cutting her off.
“If I have to hear about those damn Wesley’s one more time.”
“John, language,” her mother chastises, but he pays no mind to it.
“It’s always Sterling this, and Sterling that,” he mocks, ducking his head out from the refrigerator with a cold beer in hand. “You’re there to learn, little girl. Remember that.” He points the bottle at her and April nods, earning a wink in return.
“Sounds to me like you’ve got a best friend.” Her grandmother smiles, trying to recreate their moment from before but in April’s eyes it’s already ruined.
Instead of talking about recess or her favorite games, April segues into the story of how she won the spelling bee. Most of her classmates struggled, but she was obviously different. She even makes sure to mention that she beat her best friend in the final round, just in case anybody wanted to question her competitive spirit.
The pie is a massive hit when dessert comes, earning April praise from almost all of her family members. However, her chorus of compliments gets cut short when John jokingly brags about now having another woman in his kitchen. His comment singlehandedly shifts the conversation towards politics as the one woman who takes offense gets labeled as the lonely sensitive liberal of the family.
April sits back quietly for the rest of the meal and when her cousins argue over who gets to break the wishbone, she knows better than to get involved.
She watches them have their fun as the rest of the holiday plays out just like it always does, because in the Stevens house everything always lands back on routine.
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As a family so conservative and reluctant to change, April never thought the day would come that their Thanksgiving tradition would disappear entirely. But after a whirlwind junior year at Willingham not much surprises her anymore.
Neither side of the family wishes to associate with them following her father’s arrest. He sulks about it every holiday because for some reason he thinks that paying off a judge washes him of his sins and makes him an innocent man. The fact that nobody else seems to agree only makes him angrier.
Things have been especially tense in their house ever since he came home last year, revealing secrets that April never saw coming. Discovering that her former best friend and kind of ex-something was the one to put her father in jail weighs heavier on April’s heart than she would like to admit. It’s just another example of the people closest to her being the biggest liars and doing the most damage. So she closes herself off even more so than she did before, simply to protect what’s left.
The football game blares on the TV as more than just background noise. It covers up an otherwise silent meal that feels nothing like a holiday at all. The three of them sit around a dinner table listening to forks on plates and food being chewed every night as if that somehow makes them a family. Thanksgiving is now no different.
She misses the bustle of a packed house and countless tasks to complete for the perfect feast. She misses homemade pumpkin pie and turkey that isn’t dry. She misses watching from the window as her cousins tackle each other on the lawn with no fear of ruining their clothes. And if there was somebody to break the wishbone with this year, April would absolutely fight to win because there is just so much that she could wish for.
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April doesn’t buy a turkey for her first Thanksgiving on her own. She doesn’t feel like doing all that work for just herself. It would be an enormous waste of time considering she doesn’t even know how to cook it. So instead she buys a bottle of wine and a pumpkin pie because her grandmother’s recipe is still on page eighty-eight of her favorite book back home.
And although she knows it’ll just hurt her feelings, April scrolls through Instagram anyway. Sure enough, every single person she follows is home for the weekend. They all met up with high school friends to get drunk last night, now trying to appear wholesome and family friendly on the actual holiday. But April never so much as left her off campus apartment because she wasn’t invited back to her parents house.
She got her first real girlfriend this year and being that April was away for school and their relationship was actually serious, she figured it was time to come out. Just as she expected it didn’t go well. Neither of her parents have spoken to her since and the girlfriend has also moved on, leaving April newly single and alone on Thanksgiving for the first time in her life.
As the Macy’s parade comes to an end she wonders if it’s too early to crack open that bottle. Against her better judgement she does it anyway, spending the afternoon scoping out the best Black Friday deals. If she’s going to be stuck in her apartment for the entire holiday season, she might as well get herself a good Christmas gift.
April tries to keep busy in a ghostly empty college town and the days actually go by rather fast. She has all of her assignments done for the week and she’s actually bored of studying come Sunday morning.
With a plan of going to the gym, April packs up her headphones and pours herself a bottle of water, but as she goes to grab her phone from the kitchen table she’s surprised to see it lit up with a new message.
Sterling Wesley
Thought I’d get to see you at church today but apparently you’ve got a lot on your plate. Proud of you. Happy Thanksgiving.
So April’s coming out and excommunication from her family has apparently made its way around their congregation, much to her parents dismay she’s sure. The gossip and the whispers used to scare her back when she lived in that circle, but with a few hundred miles as a buffer she doesn’t really mind. In fact she feels herself smiling as she types a response back.
Since going away to college the only time she saw or spoke to Sterling was at church over holiday breaks. They would be cordial to each other despite their complicated past of heartbreak and bounty hunting, but April loved every second of it. She actually looked forward to it every time.
The first Thanksgiving she came home freshman year, John Stevens glared at her while they exchanged simple pleasantries, but April just insisted that she didn’t want to make a scene or be rude because they “already have enough eyes on them as it is.” That shut him up real fast and he never argued it again.
April planned to just send Sterling back a simple thank you, but when those three dots appear immediately on screen she waits for a response. And then she waits for the next response. And before April knows it, she’s cracking open her water bottle from the kitchen table as another text from Sterling comes in.
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“What are you so nervous about?”
April peels her eyes off the passenger side window for the first time since they got on the highway.
“I never said I was nervous.”
“You didn’t have to,” Sterling laughs, reaching for her hand. “The eerie silence said it all.”
She takes comfort in the gesture, feeling the tension slip from her body off of just one touch. April had been so preoccupied when she arrived at her girlfriend's apartment that she didn’t even argue when Sterling offered to drive the rest of the way. Normally she would never agree, but here she is in the passenger seat letting her mind freely wander.
“We’ve both been away at school. I hardly even get to see you,” she says, running her fingers softly along the girl's arm. “Meeting your parents just—”
“You’ve met my parents!”
“When I was ten and just a friend,” she argues, causing Sterling to roll her eyes. “I’m sure Blair has had a lot to say about me other the years.”
“Okay, that might be true,” Sterling concedes. “But I’ve also had a lot to say about you in an entirely different tone.” She takes her eyes off the road momentarily to offer a reassuring smile and April just happens to catch a bit of blush on her cheeks. “They know we’re not ten anymore, and they know that we’re together, and they’re really cool with it.”
It's not that April isn’t secure in their relationship. It’s more so that she hasn’t been home since she came out to her parents and although she isn’t going to their house, returning to her hometown is still nerve wracking nonetheless.
“What about your grandparents?”
“Don’t pay any attention to Big Daddy,” Sterling dismisses, turning down a familiar street. “Blair threw a turkey leg at him last year so if he’s smart he’ll behave.”
April still isn’t fully convinced and she knows her time to get it together is running out. The shops along the side streets are quickly becoming the ones she used to frequent, looking exactly the same as they did well over a year ago. She recognizes faces on the sidewalk as regular church goers that in the past she would see every Sunday. She wonders just how many familiar people she might run into this weekend in their small, nosy community.
“Your hands are so sweaty babe,” Sterling laughs, letting go momentarily just to wipe her hand off on April’s pants before immediately taking it back. “Didn’t you meet your ex’s family?”
“No, I broke up with her when she brought up meeting mine.”
Sterling’s eyebrows shoot up as her head turns to the side, thankfully at a red light. “You didn’t tell her about your, uh, situation?”
“I was kind of embarrassed,” April admits shyly. She’s never been very good at opening up. She grew up always having a good lie on the tip of her tongue to carefully guard her truth. But even as April started living more honestly, she still found that some things were just too hard to share. “She would talk about hers all the time and I didn’t really want to explain that my father is a homophobic felon.”
“Well you have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Sterling assures her as she shifts the car into park. April is officially out of time. “They’re going to love you just as much as they did back then. I’m sure of it.”
“How?”
She smiles that soft, radiant smile that April has familiarized herself with quite a bit, knowing that a butterfly inducing moment is sure to follow. “Because I love you just as much as I did back then. Maybe even more.”
And April is finally convinced.
The Wesley’s are nice. Different, but nice. They’re kind and welcoming, certainly overjoyed to have their daughter back home. None of the men hide out in the living room watching football. In fact the TV isn’t even on. Anderson helps his wife in the kitchen every step of the way, proudly taking on roles that no Stevens man would dare to take. And when Blair stains her shirt before they even sit down for dinner, all Debbie does is offer to soak it later.
They have apple pie instead of pumpkin and sweet potatoes instead of mashed, but April figures those differences are nothing compared to the drastic change in warmth. The only thing Stevens-like about this holiday is Big Daddy, but as soon as he’s seated across from Blair at the table, he shuts right up.
“I couldn’t eat another bite even if you force fed me,” Sterling groans, flopping down onto her bed.
“Somehow I doubt that.”
April glances around the bedroom that has changed quite a bit since she last saw it. Though it still is a very good representation of the girl it belongs to.
“Are you okay?” Sterling asks, waving for April to come join her. “You were quiet during dessert.”
“Just reflecting,” she shrugs, sitting on the very edge of the mattress. She doesn’t want to get too cozy with the open door. “It’s been a while since I had a big family Thanksgiving. It’s nice.”
Sterling reaches out her hand, beckoning April to come lay with her. “Sterl,” she warns, knowing that a simple pout will crumble any and all of her resistance.
“Please,” she whines with a wiggle of her fingers. “Just until I fall asleep.”
With an exaggerated sigh, April shifts closer to her girlfriend, who’s practically beaming over getting her way.
“But what if I fall asleep too?” April questions as the girl settles her head on her chest.
“You won’t and you know it.”
True. If April is given a rule, she follows it. So she wouldn’t dare be caught sleeping in the same bed as Sterling when Debbie specifically forbade it, generously giving April the guest room after hosting her all day.
“It’s a stupid rule,” Sterling mutters, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. “Where does she think I sleep when I visit you at school?”
“Funny how you didn’t mention that in your argument before.”
“Okay, so maybe I didn’t want to tell my parents how often I’m in your bed.”
“Not often enough,” April smiles, earning a sweet kiss in response.
Once Sterling’s head returns to its place on her chest, it isn’t long until April’s soft touch lulls her to sleep. Then just like she promised, she slips out to the guest room with no annoyance or pout because April truthfully doesn’t mind the rule. It’s just nice to be in a home.
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“Holy shit, Stevens!”
“Blair!”
“I’m sorry, but did she have to bring so many bags?” Blair exclaims, staring in bewilderment. Her gaze narrows as it shifts over to April unpacking everything she brought. “This is extra even for you.”
“She’s making a homemade pie,” Anderson reminds her, taking April’s defense. “Never bite the hand that feeds you.”
Blair mutters something under her breath and continues to pick at the food her mother is trying to prepare, dropping the subject.
“You good?” Sterling asks. April nods confidently, staring over an array of ingredients with her hands on her hips. She has everything she needs for her grandma’s recipe, even the little paper that it came written on (though she memorized it in preparation a few weeks ago). Her power stance moment is interrupted when a kiss lands on her cheek, always softening her without fail. “I’ll bring our stuff up to my room.”
“Excuse me.” Debbie crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow in question. “To your room?”
“Yes,” Sterling says, surprisingly nonchalant about standing her ground. April watches the energy in the room clearly shift as Anderson and Blair exchange a look. The woman is not often challenged by her daughter, at least not this daughter, and everyone but Sterling seems aware of it. “We literally live together. We share a bed every night. We’re adults. It’s not a big deal.”
The confidence she radiates is reminiscent of their debate tournament junior year. Her arguments are clear and strong, and she says it with her head held high, chest out. It’s not a side of her that comes out very often but April is always receptive when it does.
“Okay fine,” Debbie reluctantly crumbles, ending their little stare down. “But no funny business.”
“I’m sure they have funny business all the time,” Blair teases, easily making everyone in the room uncomfortable. It’s a natural talent of hers and April is sure this is Blair’s revenge for Anderson taking her side.
Red in the face, Sterling claims her victory without another word and escapes up to her room. Debbie excuses herself as well and if it weren’t for the pie, April would probably be faking a bathroom trip right about now.
“Did you know about this?” Anderson asks.
Her nerves grow as she shakes her head. “No idea.”
April assumed she would end up in the guest room like she does every year but apparently Sterling had a different plan.
“I’m kinda proud of her,” Blair admits and shockingly they all nod in agreement.
“Tell your mom and I’ll turn your room into a gym.”
“Got it, dad.”
As always Debbie and Anderson’s cooking is fantastic, although Mother finds something to complain about. Ironically the one thing she picks is something her son made, so her attempt of mindlessly critiquing her daughter-in-law falls short.
Blair excitedly updates her twin on Bowser and all their latest skips, which used to be an uncomfortable topic for April. The first time it only reminded her of all the heartbreak she went through in high school at the hands of both Sterling and her father. However now that she’s in on the secret and has a law degree pending, she finds the bounty hunting stories rather interesting.
The Wesley’s take a genuine interest in their lives, asking April about school, Sterling about her new job, and of course their shared apartment.
“It’s nothing lavish. We still have students loans and starter jobs—”
“But it’s ours.”
“Yeah,” April smiles, “ours.”
Surprisingly she’s nervous about serving her pie. Mother is a ruthless critic, as is Blair when it comes to both April and food. And she hasn’t actually made the dessert since she was in high school. So as everyone takes their first bite April is not so subtly on the edge of her seat. Her eyes scan the table waiting for some type of response or at least a shift in body language.
The silence is practically driving her nuts when Blair lets out a massive moan. “Why do we have apple pie every year? This shit is good.”
“Mother and Big Daddy like it better,” Debbie informs her, a little too satisfied to send the blame their way.
“Bad take,” Blair grumbles, pointing her fork at the elderly couple. She shovels another bite into her mouth before aiming her utensil at April. “You have to make this on Christmas.”
Her eyes shift over to Sterling, who happens to be doing the same and the room goes so quiet that she can actually hear Blair chew. Forks stop reaching for pie, no longer scratching the plate and all eyes land on them. Sterling sits up straighter in her seat, clears her throat, and April braces herself for what’s to come.
“We were actually thinking of doing our own thing for Christmas.”
A chorus of gasps sound from around the table. “What?”
“Not forever!” Sterling quickly assures them. “Just maybe this year being that it’s our first one in our own place.”
“Still thinking it over,” April chimes in, taking Sterling’s hand in support. The squeeze she gets in return tells her it was appreciated. “Nothing is set in stone.”
Sterling slowly leans back in her chair, letting their latest reveal simmer with everyone for a very uncomfortable moment. Debbie opens her mouth once, then twice, but words never come out. And Blair still hasn’t swallowed her last bite of pie.
“We will certainly miss you both if that’s what you decide.” Anderson speaks up with a kind smile that makes April’s heart soar. “Just be sure to get to church.”
“Of course,” she promises, earning a nod from the man.
When she first came to Thanksgiving, April never expected to become a staple in the Wesley household, certainly not ever a presence they would miss. It is a welcomed turn of events that she is more than thankful for.