Archive of Our Own

Thursday November 22, 2007

“Mama! Wook! Piwate ship! Arrrr!”

Jackie Maybank smiles as she turns around from the stove to look at the television. Sure enough the “Jolly Polly Pirate Ship” was making its way down the street towards Herald Square. A “pirate queen” was positioned at the front of the ship as she belted out songs from “The Phantom of the Opera.” She found it to be an odd combination but she lives on a tiny barrier island far from New York City so who is she to judge the choices of the director of the 81st Annual Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade?

“Wow! That’s so cool, JJ. I didn’t know the parade would have a pirate ship!” She ruffles his light blond hair before she turns back to the potatoes boiling on the stove top.

“Bwackbeawd? Bawt on dere?” He squeals and wildly claps his little hands.

“Maybe. You never know my little love bug. Remember to keep your voice down though. Dad just got in a few hours ago and he’s still sleeping so shhhh.”

The young mother gulps and looks over her shoulder. The bedroom she shares with her less than patient husband is a few doors down the hallway. He spent Thanksgiving Eve day and night getting wasted at the Rockfish with his less than desirable friends. The best option for her and her four year old son is to keep him sleeping for as long as possible. Hopefully she can get her mashed potatoes done and have them both out the door before he wakes up.

“Sowwy mama! Santa comin?” Her little boy asks in his singsong voice.

She smiles, thankful that he’s finally talking. It had been concerning when she heard the other toddlers babbling on the playground while her little tyke just smiled back at them, not uttering a single word. Her little boy was also a bundle of energy, hardly able to stay still for even a minute. It was like he was running on a motor that never ran out of gas.

When she brought up her concerns at the Kildare Free Clinic where he got his yearly shots and check up, the nurse just shrugged disinterestedly and told her that some kids just took longer to talk and settle down. What else should she expect? All the woman saw was that they had no health insurance, their address was on the far end of the Cut and their last name Maybank.

When he finally said “mama” five months ago just before his fourth birthday she had been so relieved. Of course all Luke can do is make fun of their son’s minor speech impediment, doubling over laughing at his mispronunciations. Whenever he had his horrible friends come over he’d make the small blond repeat words he couldn’t pronounce properly back at them. They even made a drinking game out of it-taking bets to see if the poor little guy could say a word or not. She tried to talk to her husband about it but all she got out of it was a black eye and a busted lip.

“Santa comes at the end. He’s the grand finale of the parade. Let me see,” Jackie glances at her watch. “It’s just before 11:00am so in about an hour. We’ll be at Auntie Carol’s house by then. Be on the lookout for elves though!”

“Ok! I gonna wook weal hawd!” Her little boy claps again. “Is Wicky gonna pway with me today?”

“I’m sure Ricky will play with you. But remember…he’s a bigger boy than you so be patient if he doesn’t say yes right away,” she tells him as she tests the potatoes to see if they’re done enough.

“Yay! I wove Wicky!” He gets up and does a silly little dance.

Jackie chuckles as she picks up the pot and takes the potatoes over to the sink to strain them. She glances up at the clock. They’re definitely running short on time. Her sister in law wanted them to be there by 11:30 so she could help out with the food prep. Luke’s antics when he stumbled home from the bar in the wee hours of the morning definitely set her back. She hadn’t even had time to bathe her son or get him fully dressed.

The young blond woman blows the hair off of her face. “JJ, the commercial is on. Be a good boy and go to your room to put on the nice shirt I laid out on the bed for you. Can you be a big kid and do that for me?”

“Mama! The pawade come back soon! I don’t wanna!” He crosses his arms over his chest in a huff staring at the television.

Sighing and collecting herself, she calmly replies, “Jesse James Maybank, do what you are told. Go put on your shirt. Now.”

“No! I…don’t…wanna!” The little blond yells and sticks out his lower lip as he stomps his feet on the kitchen’s dirty and faded linoleum floor.

Jackie swallows hard and looks down the hall. “JJ, be quiet. Your father…”

The door to their bedroom slams open and a wild-eyed Luke stumbles out. “What the hell is the little bastard yelling about now? Fucking brat! I liked it better when he was so stupid he couldn’t talk!”

“Luke, I’m sorry. He’s just excited about the parade and didn’t want to stop watching it. He didn’t mean it, he’s just a little boy.” She steps in front of her son.

Luke throws open the refrigerator door and grabs a beer. As he cracks it open he squints at the tv. “What is he a fuckin fairy watchin a parade made for little girls and shit? Jackie, I told you, you gotta stop spoilin him and treatin him like a little girl.” The man chugs the beer and then strolls over to the tv. He turns it off as he glares at his son.

This makes JJ wail. “No! The ewves! Santa comin!” His little hands are pulling at his blond hair. He runs to his mother and clings to her leg.

Luke darts towards them and pries the boy off of his mother’s leg. “Stop huggin and kissin him and shit. It’s why he’s so fucking weak and feeble minded!”

“No! Mama! Pwease!” The little boy cries kicking his legs and reaching his arms out to his mother as he’s being held in the air by his father.

“Fucking pussy! No PWEASE. What a weak mama’s boy,” Luke growls.

Jackie steps forward shaking. “Luke, please. Put him down. This is my fault, not his.”

“Damn straight it is.” The man laughs as he carries his little son to his bedroom and throws him on the small bed. “Stay in here you little fucker. Don’t come out until you’re told you down piece of shit.” He slams the door shut and locks it from the outside.

Rock music blares so loudly little JJ has to cover his ears. He looks to his left and sees a yellow tshirt with a silly looking bird on it. He can’t read it but it says “Mama’s Little Turkey” above the bird. His hands shaking, he picks up the shirt his mom left out for him and pulls it over his head.

He crawls over to the corner where his few toys and books are. He opens up the book mama reads to him every night-“How I Became A Pirate” and stares at the colorful pictures. He sits in his room for hours. He doesn’t get to see Santa’s arrival at Herald Square and they never make it to Auntie Carol’s house that year.

After it turns dark JJ crawls into bed still wearing the shirt his mama got him for Thanksgiving. He falls asleep alone, his stomach grumbling loudly. Later that night he wakes up to the sound of truck tires squealing away on the mud outside in the driveway. He sits up when he hears the lock click and his door open.

“Hey there little love bug. I’m so sorry about the parade and not getting to see Ricky,” his mama whispers, voice shaking as she approaches him in the darkness.

She sits on his bed and wraps him in a hug. He squeezes her back with all his might and says, “I put on my shiwt wike a big boy mama.”

“Oh JJ. I’m so thankful for you, my little turkey. I knew it was perfect for you when I saw it at the Goodwill.” Mother and son lay down together and eventually fall asleep in each other’s arms.

**

Wednesday November 23, 2011

“Mr. Maybank, it’s a half day before a long holiday weekend, why can’t you just behave?” Mr. Lewis, the principal of Tanny Elementary School, sighs as he rubs the bridge of his nose.

The scrawny blond leans back in his chair and crosses his arms across his chest. He doesn’t think what he did was so bad. Even the student teacher lady who is working with his third grade class laughed a little. He had simply raised his hand and asked the visiting farmer from the mainland the difference between a turkey and a cock at the school Thanksgiving assembly. Most of his classmates thought it was hilarious, especially his new friend John B Routledge. The only kid who didn’t laugh was that weirdo nerdy kid named Pope.

The older man behind the desk shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “JJ, answer me please.”

“I dunno why what I asked was so bad. It was about birds, the guy is a farmer, and tomorrow is Thanksgiving.” The boy shrugs and looks out the window. Everyone else is already playing at recess. He can see John B swinging on the rusted monkey bars. They usually do that together. And climb trees. And then get yelled at for scaling the trees. This sucks. All he did was ask a silly question and now he’s stuck in here with this ancient man instead of being with his new friend that he won’t see again until Monday because of a stupid holiday no one cares about.

Mr. Lewis sighs. “JJ, look at me.”

He looks back at the man across from him and gulps. He hates it when adults make him look them in the eye. It feels weird. They always look so mad or disappointed in him. Why would he want to see that?

“I don’t want to have to call your father,” the principal continues. “Something tells me that will ruin your holiday weekend.”

Gee ya think? No shit Sherlock. It’s not like he and dear old dad were planning on having a Thanksgiving feast anyways. Luke was probably already wasted at the Rockfish as they speak. If he wanted to eat anything this weekend he’d have to steal it. What will be open tomorrow that he can steal from? Probably the gas station store.

“Mrs. Cook, the fifth grade teacher who arranged for this assembly, will be upset if there isn’t some type of consequence; especially because getting guest speakers to come here is difficult enough. She made that very clear to me,” the guy drones on. “So I want you to personally apologize to her and our guest. I’d ask you to write a letter but I’m well aware of your…limitations.”

JJ stares down at his ratty old boots that are squeezing his toes together. Even the principal knows he’s too stupid to be able to write something. He feels his ears getting hot with shame and embarrassment.

“If I say I’m sorry can I go outside to play after?” He mumbles as he pulls at the shark tooth hanging around his neck.

“Yes. It’s mild today so the third grade has extended recess. As long as you show that you mean it when you talk to them,” the man nods. “Follow me.”

The principal walks slightly ahead of JJ as they make their way upstairs to the 4th and 5th grade classroom wings. He stops in front of a door with a colorful “Every Voice Matters” poster on the door and knocks. He clears his throat as he motions for the boy to stand next to him.

Mrs. Cook, a tall and pinch faced woman wearing a ‘My Students Are My Tribe’ tshirt with a turkey dressed with a feathered war bonnet on its head, opens the door. She first looks at the principal and then glances down beside him with a look of utter disgust at her younger visitor. She juts out her bottom lip and crosses her arms across her chest.

“Yes, Mr. Lewis? I’m here trying to decompress after that shock in the assembly. Thankfully Ms. Gray took my class for a bit to help out. What can I do to help you?” She asks, a little too dramatically.

The principal forces a smile in reply and nudges the boy in front of him. “I’ve brought someone who has something to say to you and our special guest from Morning Glory Farms. JJ?”

“Uh…ya…so,” he scratches the back of his head and nervously taps his foot.

The teacher puts a hand up. “Hold on.” She turns her back to them. “Wyatt, the little jerk from the assembly is here. Apparently he has something to say to us.”

JJ’s ears turn hot again and his heart rate quickens. Did a teacher just call him “a little jerk” right in front of him?The man from the assembly comes to the door with a scowl on his face as he looks down at the boy standing at the door.

“Continue,” Mrs. Cook says sharply.

“Um…sorry? What I asked wasn’t nice.” JJ mumbles, looking down and putting his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts playing with the growing hole in the left one.

The teacher leans against the doorway. “Was that a question or a statement, I couldn’t tell.”

“Huh?” The blond asks looking up.

“It just wasn’t very convincing is all. You seemed to be REALLY enjoying yourself when you made the entire cafetorium laugh at your disgusting joke, meanwhile all he and I get is ‘sorry?’ that sounded more like a question.” She shrugs aggressively.

JJ bites his lip. “Um, I didn’t think about it. Sorry.”

The woman shakes her head. “Didn’t think about what?”

“What do you want me to say lady? I said I was sorry! Fuck!” He shoots back at her.

She looks over at the principal in shock. “Wow! Quite a mouth on a third grader. Color me surprised when I found out from another teacher that his last name was Maybank. I’m formally requesting NOT to have him when he comes to fifth grade. He’s already a delinquent and I shudder to think about how much more horrible he’ll be in two years. He’ll probably kill Mr. Waffles my class tortoise as a vendetta against me.”

“Fuck you bitch. I don’t wanna have you neither. Mr. Waffles probably hates you too. Also your shirt is stupid as fuck.”

JJ never makes it to recess that day. Mrs. Cook demanded that his father be called so he’s sitting on the bench outside the principal’s office while all the other kids are joyously piling out of the school on their way home to various family celebrations. One girl is going on and on about her family’s pie baking tradition as she passes by him. The thought of pie makes his stomach grumble. He hasn’t eaten since school lunch yesterday. They don’t serve food on half days.

“Hey JJ. How bad is it?” He hears a voice ask as he’s staring at his hands as a means to avoid the stares and comments from his classmates as they pass by him. He looks up and sees John B standing in front of him.

JJ flashes him a crooked smile. “They TRIED to get me to apologize but instead I called a teacher a bitch. It was awesome! They called my dad but he won’t care.”

“Whoa! You’re crazy dude. I love it!” His friend replies, eyes wide.

The principal’s secretary gets up from her desk. “Young man! Keep moving. Nothing to see here!”

“Sorry ma’am. I was just wishing JJ a Happy Thanksgiving is all. He’s in my class,” John B smiles sweetly at the older woman.

“Oh, well, isn’t that kind of you Mr. Routledge. Make it quick and then go on home. Say hello to Big John for me,” the woman purrs.

“Aw, shucks, thank you. I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving as well. I’ll be sure to tell my dad you were asking for him.” He smiles again and then turns back to his friend. “Jay, you gotta learn how to play the game. Be nice to their faces and then you do this.” He sticks his middle finger up behind the woman’s back as she returns to her desk.

The two boys laugh hysterically. Once they catch their breath John B says, “Happy Thanksgiving, man. Doing anything good while we’re outta school?”

“Heck ya,” JJ says. “My family cooks a shit ton of food. So much that there’s too many leftovers that we end up freezing some of the turkey and using it as bait for months. The rest of the stuff we just throw away once we get sick of eating it. Then me and my dad are gonna go on a big fishing trip. We were gonna go to New York to see the Macy’s parade again this year but it gets boring after a while so we decided to go deep sea fishing instead.”

“Wow! I’ve never even been outside of the Carolinas. That sounds way better than what me and my dad do. We just eat a rotisserie chicken, some sides from Heyward’s, and mac n cheese from the Wreck on Thanksgiving. Then the day after we’re taking a day trip to the mainland and going to a maritime museum for his research. I guess there’s a tree lighting that night too. I was gonna ask you if you wanted to come with us cause he said I could bring a friend so I could stay out of his hair when he was at the archives but it sounds like you’re super busy.”

JJ swallows hard. Shit. He had just lied his way right out of an invitation to spend time with his new friend. He’s such an idiot.

The door to the school slams open causing both boys to jump. “You dumb little shit! I was out mindin my own business and I get a call sayin you’re runnin your mouth again? Now I gotta come down here and waste my time to pick up your sorry ass! Wait til we get home. There’s a belt with yer name on it!”

John B looks over at JJ with concern on his face. JJ forces a smile. “It’s ok. He puts on a good act so the principal thinks I’ll get in trouble. I’m fine. Really.” He stands up quickly. “Happy Thanksgiving John B.”

The Monday after the extended holiday weekend John B brings a fish vertebrae fossil that he and his dad found while on a walk along the shore on the mainland to show the class. JJ was absent that day so he kept it in his desk to show him once he comes back.

His friend didn’t return to school until Friday. He was wearing long sleeves even though it was an unusually warm November day on the Outer Banks and there was a yellowing bruise under his left eye. John B let him take the fossil home to keep it. JJ put it in the little wooden box under his bed where he keeps the few things he has left that remind him of his mother.

**

Thursday November 22, 2018

“You two boys are basically men now so I got us two birds this year,” Big John chuckles. “One for me and one for you two to split. Plus sides from Heywards and a pie. I was gonna get the mac and cheese from the Wreck but JJ said he refused to eat anything from Kiara the Kook’s bullshit restaurant.”

John B laughs. “Dad, there’s no breaking through to JJ when the parade’s on, even with talk about multiple rotisserie chickens or even touchy subjects like Kiara the Kook.”

JJ doesn’t hear nor answer them. It’s been a great start to Thanksgiving break. The Boneyard was lit last night. He did pretty damn well for a freshman. A senior Kook chick made out with him and even allowed him touch her boob. It was over the shirt but still. Now he’s already two joints in and there’s a fucking giant Olaf balloon premiering in the 91st annual Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade this year. He’s sitting crisscross applesauce on the floor directly in front of the Chateau’s tv watching a sexy chick from Texas A&M throw a baton in the air and then catch it while landing in a perfect split on the street in Herald Square.

Fingers snap in front of his face. “JJ. Earth to JJ. Are you high already boy?” Big John asks.

“Uh, nope. Just waiting for Olaf to come but these Texas chicks are sexy as hell,” he slurs slowly.

“John B, how much herb has he had? You know I’m a chill dad but it’s only 10:00 in the morning and he’s baked. Who the hell is Olaf?” the elder Routledge asks.

“Let it go! Let it go! Can’t hold me back from my weed!” JJ sings off key and then grows serious. “Olaf is this sick ass snowman that throws so much shade. He’s the fucking man. I can’t feel my legs!”

Big John puts the back of his hand on JJ’s forehead. “He sounds delirious. Did he hit his head last night, Bird?”

“No dad. Olaf is from the kids’ movie Frozen. It came out when we were in fifth grade. JJ loved it the moment he saw it. He and all the girls used to swoon over it at recess. If anyone made fun of him for it he’d always make the excuse that he watched it because Elsa was hot. Meanwhile we all know it’s because deep down he loves cartoons and musicals,” John B explains as he plops down on the pullout couch.

JJ shakes his head. “Actually I always thought Anna was the hot one. I don’t want to have sexy time with someone that could turn little JJ into an icicle if she touches him. Icicles break off too easily. I don’t think I want kids but if it breaks off that ship has sailed before I’m old enough to decide for real for real. Anna should’ve known that prince was whack. I sniffed out his bullshit the minute he showed up at the palace.”

“Bird, no more weed for him until sundown. I mean it. He’s not making any sense. For real for real.”

There’s a knock on the screen door. The Routledge men look up and see Pope waiting outside holding a large cardboard box. Big John goes to the door and holds it open so the boy can come in.

“Here’s the stuff you ordered from my dad’s shop. Prepackaged and ready to microwave mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, candied yams, and a homemade pecan pie. Oh and my mom threw in some collard greens on the house because she said you guys need more than root vegetables to be healthy growing boys.” Pope follows Big John and puts the box on the kitchen counter.

“Aw shit! There’s a new GRINCH balloon!” JJ laughs and claps. “He has his dog with him! That dog is fucking great. He helped the Grinch find his heart you know. He was a mean fucker but he saved the dog when everyone thought he wouldn’t. I want a doggo.” He sighs dramatically.

Pope stares at JJ for a moment but then cocks his head to look at John B. The brown haired boy shrugs and says, “Just JJ being JJ. I think he’s fully enjoying this Thanksgiving in the most JJ way possible-with dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies.”

“Damn straight I am. I’m not moving my bony ass until Santa comes right around that corner. I always miss it. Not this year,” he points to a random spot on the tv screen.

John B and Pope exchange a look. JJ’s high must be wearing off a little because he can sense the silent communication between them. He narrows his eyes and looks away from the tv now that a commercial is on. “What?”

Pope looks uncomfortable. “Ok, hear us out before you lose your shit.”

“I don’t like it already,” JJ frowns. “This has been an epic Thanksgiving break so far. Don’t ruin it Popey.”

John B takes in a breath. “We’re thinking of stopping by the Wreck since they’re open until noon because of the football game.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” JJ hisses, feeling his heart sink at the simple thought of seeing Kie, no not Kie-Kiara the Kook. “SHE isn’t our friend anymore, remember?”

“I saw her at the Boneyard last night. She looked-lost.” Pope explains. “I don’t know. She just didn’t seem happy. I’m pretty sure she was staring at us for a while.”

“Poor little rich girl looked sad? Cry me a fucking river,” JJ replies, working hard to sound tough. Truth is he did see her and she didn’t look good but why should he care? She made her choice when she enrolled in the Kook Academy back in September and stopped answering their texts. She’s the one that abandoned him-no them. She abandoned them.

“JJ, Pope and I are going. Stay here if you want to. We just wanted you to know about it,” John B answers.

JJ turns back to the tv and sees Olaf turning the corner towards Herald Square. “Ah shit. What would Olaf do guys?”

Pope shrugs. “I literally don’t know the answer to your question. Isn’t he the zainy snowman from that ice princess movie you were a little too obsessed with in 5th grade? The one you used to pretend to be when you would dance around the schoolyard with all the girls at recess?”

“Yes Pope, he is. He may not have had any bones or a skull but the guy was a fucking legend,” JJ explains. “I’d like to think he had a backbone made of ice and a quote to prove it is- ‘Love is putting someone else’s needs before yours.’ I think I have my answer guys.”

JJ stands and salutes the tv just as the Olaf balloon crosses in front of Macy’s. “Thank you sir. You were correct when you taught a young JJ Maybank that some people are worth melting for.” He turns to his friends. “To the Wreck soldiers. If we act fast we’ll be back in time to see Santa and Rudolph fly down 34th Street.”

Fifteen minutes later the guys pull into the gravel parking lot of the Wreck in Heyward’s refurbished golf cart that Pope uses for deliveries. Mike Carrera has made it clear which team he’s rooting for today. The restaurant is decked out with Kook Academy colors and banners.

“This isn’t a terrible idea at all,” JJ grumbles, the high from his morning weed and seeing the giant Olaf balloon’s premiere wearing off completely at the sight of the Wreck.

John B sighs. “I have some cash. We have the excuse of ordering mac and cheese to go in there.”

“Then what? It’s not like she’s gonna talk to us. We’re Cut scum and she’s a big fancy Kook now,” JJ laments, his mouth dry and heart racing.

His two friends step out of the golf cart. Pope turns to him. “JJ, we don’t have a ton of time. They’re only open for 30 more minutes and pops is literally going to lose his shit and send out a search party for me soon. You guys were the last delivery and he told me not to mess around at the Chateau. Let’s go! Move your ass. Now.”

“Bubba, it’s ok if you’re afraid to see her. I’m nervous too,” John B affirms.

JJ jumps out of the cart. “Afraid? Me? No fucking way!” He pumps his chest. “I just know she’s going to pretend we don’t exist, as usual. She’s too good for us now.”

John B heads into the restaurant first, followed by Pope, and then JJ drags his feet behind them. The bar is packed with people from both sides of the island. It’s rowdy but surprisingly cordial despite the clear division between Kildare County High and Kook Academy jerseys. Mike is behind the bar talking animatedly to a group of men wearing their academy letter jackets from the 90s.

“Didn’t Mikey boy go to Kildare High? Of course he’s part of the dark side now wearing the academy colors. Typical Kook bullshit,” JJ observes.

Pope chuckles. “Didn’t know you were such a rabid Kildare Cougars fan, JJ.”

“I’m not. Actually, I hate jocks. I just call out hyperprocity when I see it,” he cuts back.

“I think you mean hypocrisy, bro,” John B corrects.

“Whatever. Same thing,” the blond replies. He looks over and then he sees her. Curls piled in a messy bun on top of her head, a maroon bandana tied around her forehead, carrying a large tray of food into the dining area.

She looks over in his direction and they lock eyes. Why are his palms sweating? He doesn’t care. She left him, no-them-she left them behind and hasn’t looked back. Kiara the Kook. The corners of her eyes crinkle and she smiles shyly at him. He looks away pretending he didn’t see it.

“Dude, that was cold,” John B asserts as he gives her a small wave.

“Can I help you boys?” Anna appears out of nowhere looking less than pleased to see them.

John B flashes his best middle aged mom melting smile at her. “Oh, hi Ms. Anna. Happy Thanksgiving. My dad sent me on an errand to pick up some mac and cheese for our meal. Is there still time to place an order?”

Kiara’s mom grimaces and looks at her watch. “Hmm, let me see if we have any left. This is kind of last minute don’t you think?”

“I know it is, sorry. I really appreciate it, though, so does Big John,” he replies, still smiling.

The curly haired woman sighs and walks away from them towards the kitchen making sure the boys see her shaking her head at Mike as she walks by the bar. The Carrera patriarch glares at the three of them. He throws his rag down, whispers something to the other bartender, and makes a b line for the Pogues.

“Here we go,” JJ sighs as he stands up taller and juts out his chin. He steps forward, in front of his friends, to ensure that he gets the brunt of whatever storm of bullshit is coming their way. Whatever it is, it won’t come even close to what Luke says and does to him on a regular basis.

Within seconds Mike is in his face. “This establishment is for paying customers only. No loitering. If you’re not buying anything get out.”

JJ smirks at the older man. “Happy Thanksgiving to you too Mr. Carerra. We are paying customers. Your wife is checking to see if there’s any mac and cheese left to take to go for the Chateau Thanksgiving. It’s a little Kooky for my taste but the Routledge men like it.”

John B holds up a $10 bill for the man to see. Mike scoffs, “Ok then. So HE’S the paying customer. The rest of ya’ll can wait outside and stop harassing my daughter. I thought she’d made it clear that she doesn’t want to hang out with trash anymore. She’s made friends with good kids now and hasn’t even thought twice about you bro. Leave her alone.”

“The kitchen’s all out of mac and cheese,” Anna says from behind her husband. “You boys better get on home to your families now. Happy Thanksgiving.” She puts a hand on one of her husband’s tensed up shoulders.

JJ, defiant as ever, continues to glare into Mike’s eyes. He clenches his fists. He’s about to tell the motherfucker where to go and how to get there but he spies a mess of curls out of the corner of his eye.

“Dad, they weren’t bothering me,” Kiara interjects. “They didn’t even come near me…I’ve been waiting tables in the dining area.”

Pope whispers behind JJ. “Dude, let it go. Don’t do anything stupid to get yourself in trouble.”

“Better listen to your friend, Maybank. I’m sure the old man is waiting for your arrival home at your shack with baited breath.” Kiara’s father licks his lips. “That is if he isn’t passed out in a gutter somewhere or locked up in county for being the town thief and drunk. As a matter of fact, your pupils look pretty blown, already taking after dear old dad I see?”

There are a few hoots and hollers reacting to Mike’s burn from the bar patrons. JJ bites his lip. He already knows Luke doesn’t give a shit about him any day let alone a holiday, but somehow having this guy throw it in his face like this in front of a ready and willing audience really stings. Being compared to Luke and having people from both sides of the island applaud makes his heart ache.

“Dad! What the hell?” He hears Kiara exclaim.

Anna pulls her husband backwards. “Mike, stop! He’s just a kid and it’s Thanksgiving!”

JJ doesn’t say anything back to Mike. Instead he just turns and books it towards the exit, his friends at his heels. He hears “Stay away from my daughter you little gangster!” being shouted at him when his hands touch the door. What the fuck? It wasn’t even his idea to come here and once again it’s all his fault. It’s always his fault, even when it really isn’t.

When they make it back to the golf cart he turns to his friends. “I TOLD you BOTH that this was a TERRIBLE idea!” He yells as he grasps at his chest with his hand. “But NO! Why listen to JJ? He’s just a fucking shitbag Maybank! What does he know?”

His heart is beating out of his chest and he feels nauseous. Breathing shouldn’t be this hard. Little gangster. He’s pulling at his hair. Town thief and drunk. His shack. Taking after dear old dad. Already.

“JJ?”

Her voice. Saying his name? He looks up and finds her steps away from him holding a to go container in her hands. He takes a step back. She takes a step forward. John B steps between them.

“Your dad’s a real asshole, Kie,” JB says bluntly.

Her eyes fill with tears and she bites her lip. “I know and I’m sorry.” Then she looks over at JJ. “Jayj, I…”

“Nope.” Pope joins John B, blocking the path to their friend. “You don’t get to call him that after everything that’s happened. Seriously Kie? Your dad full on attacked him and it wasn’t even his idea to come here.”

“It wasn’t?” She actually looks…sad to hear that. She blinks away tears as she looks at the ground. “Well, um…I…I hope you guys are doing…ok.”

John B sighs. “We were until we came here. I didn’t know ordering takeout was a fucking crime.”

“It’s not. I’m sorry about my dad. I really am.” She sniffs and tries to look behind John B and Pope. “Jay…JJ, I hope you know that what he said wasn’t true…”

“What? That I live in a shack and my dad’s a drunk thief? All true,” JJ answers hollowly as he stares at the ground.

Kiara swallows hard. “You’re not a shitbag Maybank. You’re a good person.”

He shakes his head and looks up, noticing the blue sky and sun have been replaced by dark gray clouds. He shudders. “Oh yeah, so great. Not as good as the kids at the Kook Academy. Not good enough to text back…whatever Kiara.” He sits in the back seat of golf cart without looking at her. “Guys, lets go. We’re not wanted here.”

John B and Pope nod in agreement and load into the golf cart without saying goodbye to her. She steps forward again. “Wait!”

The boys look up at her. She bites her lip again as she approaches John B. “We were out of mac and cheese for takeout but every year my dad puts aside an extra container for me. He knows how much I like it and since we only make it for Thanksgiving orders we usually sell out. Here. Take it.” She extends the container to him.

John B stares at the container for a beat. “Kie, that’s for you. No.”

“Please. Take it. I…I miss you guys. I mean it. I’m so sorry. About…everything.” She manages a small smile as she puts the container in his hands. “I was wondering where the Routledge order was. For as long as I remember your dad always gets it for the holiday.”

JJ just stares at his hands as he nervously turns the rings on his fingers. He can’t bring himself to look at her. It hurts too much.

“Thanks, Kie. Um, Happy Thanksgiving,” John B says simply.

“Yeah, Happy day of the mythical dinner between an unnamed indigenous tribe and white European settlers,” she smiles and steps back.

Pope starts up the golf cart and gives her a slight wave. “Bye Kie.”

“Bye Pope. Hope your mom and dad are well.” She turns her attention to the back seat. “Bye JJ. Enjoy your Chateau feast. Sorry…again.”

JJ bites his lip and looks up to meet her eyes. “Bye Kie. Happy Thanksgiving.”

**

Thursday November 28, 2019

Big John has been missing for almost a month. The kitchen cupboards are bare and the refrigerator is empty at the Chateau. John B is laying on his stomach under a pile of blankets on the pullout. JJ is worried.

“Well Al, I think this may the coldest parade I’ve ever covered but I definitely haven’t been to all 91 previous masterpieces!” Hota Kotb’s voice chimes from the Chateau’s tv.

He looks over at the mass of blankets next to him and sighs. “Hey Bree, wanna watch the parade with me? Waddya say? Nothing else to do today. Maybe it’s the year I finally get to see Santa in Herald Square. It’s lame I know but like something always seems to come up that makes me miss it. Every damn year.”

All that he gets in reply is a grunt. Shit. This isn’t good. JJ is wracking his brain to think of what store may be open that he could swipe a rotisserie chicken from. He should’ve thought of this yesterday but everyone knows he has the attention span of a gnat. He’s such a piece of shit.

This will be the first Thanksgiving that John B won’t have his rotisserie chicken. Or his father. He had been little the first Thanksgiving without his mom but he’ll never forget the way it stung. Luke and he had no power that year. He had tried to turn on the tv to watch the parade but nothing happened. Ricky crawled in through his bedroom window that afternoon and carried him over to his house so that he’d at least get fed.

“Savannah, those are quite the air muffs you’re wearing! As your resident weather expert I can confirm that at 19 degrees Fahrenheit this is THE coldest parade to date! Brrrrr!” Al Roker exclaims from somewhere within his hat with enormous ear flaps.

JJ’s teeth chatter as wraps the blanket around himself tighter. He already had the hood up from his sweatshirt but he’s still freezing. The entire east coast is experiencing an arctic cold snap. It may not be in the teens in Kildare but the thermometer on the porch read 28 degrees this morning. The coldest it usually gets in November during the day is the high 50s and that’s on a bad day. The Chateau is not exactly insulated well so it’s not the best place to be when Mother Nature is bullshit.

“B, you alive under there?” JJ nudges the lump next to him. “C’mon dude. Talk to me. Or at least share some of those blankets. It’s fucking freezing.”

The lump next to him shifts a bit. A mop of greasy brown hair appears. “JJ, do you think it’s too cold out for my dad to be ok is he’s stranded somewhere out there?”

Fuck. Of course it is. He can currently see his breath inside the Chateau. If Big John is actually stranded and not holed up in some research center he is more than likely frozen solid. John B is looking at him with bloodshot brown eyes.

“Big John is the toughest motherfucker I know. If anyone could survive being stranded in any temperature, it’s him.”

JJ is thankful he’s such a good liar because he does not believe a word he just said. His answer seems to appease his best friend for the moment because he sits up and jumps at him to share the mountain of blankets. The warmth under the pile is welcoming but his nostrils fill with a pungent aroma of sweat and onions.

He gags. “Holy shit John B. You smell like hot garbage. I love you man but be real with me, when did you last shower?”

John B wraps his brother is a bear hug under the blankets. “Thought you were freezing. Here I am trying to warm your skinny ass up and now you’re complaining that I stink? Gee, thanks Jay.” The two wrestle under the blankets. John B trying to shove JJ’s nose directly into his armpit causing JJ to let out a yelp.

A voice grumbles from beyond the blankets. “What in the hell are we interrupting?”

JJ and John B sit up straight and pull the blankets down to greet their visitors. Pope and his father are standing next to the pulled out couch. Heyward’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out of their sockets.

“Uh, hi. Nothing. We were just…trying to keep warm is all,” JJ answers quickly.

The older man doesn’t look convinced. He shakes his head. “Well, whatever you two are into ain’t none of my business. There ain’t no adult here though so just…be careful.”

Pope cannot contain his laughter as he stands behind his dad. Heyward turns back to him. “Hey! I knew they was close just didn’t know how close is all. It ain’t funny.”

The boys on the couch exchange a bewildered look. “Heyward. No. We’re not. We’re just…” John B goes to stand but gets tangled up in the blankets and falls forward.

“It’s ok. No judgement here. It makes sense actually. You two always attached at the hip..Just make sure you’re using protection.” Heyward clears his throat. “Now, the reason why we’re here is to bring you both to Thanksgiving dinner at our house.”

JJ’s mouth hangs open. “Really? Us? Shit 1 and Shit 2? We haven’t been inside your house since 6th grade.”

Pope’s dad sighs. “Yeah well, when the wife and I started filling the Routledge order like we do every year we realized that…you know. You kids would have no where to ea…celebrate this year.”

“My dad placed an order before he left last month?”John B asks, eyes wide.

Heyward rubs this bridge of his nose. “No, uh. Big John has always been sort of forgetful so we had an understanding. It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry ‘bout it kid. Let’s go. Get dressed you two. Still got lots to do before we can celebrate.”

John B stands. “What kind of understanding? What does that mean?”

Pope rubs the back of his head. “JB. It’s fine. My pops just has your dad’s order memorized in case he got too into his work and forgot. It only happened sometimes. Nothing big. Seriously.”

JJ pats his friend on the back. “Bree, you really need to go rinse off dude. We don’t want to stink the Heywards out of their house on a holiday.” He turns to the two visitors. “I got him. We’ll be over soon. You need us to, uh, bring something?”

Heyward glances over the blond’s shoulder into the kitchen littered with empty beer cans. Multiple cabinets’ doors are open and there’s not a box or can in sight. “How bout this? After you two…rinse off…come to the store with Pope and help out. That’s worth more to me than anything else.”

“Aye aye sir!” JJ salutes him.

Pope chuckles as his dad shakes his head mumbling “Lord have mercy” to himself and makes his way to the screen door. “Get these two moving son. I expect all three of you within the hour.”

“You got it pops,” his son replies.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure you do. Just like last year, huh?” Heyward mumbles as the door closes behind him.

John B sits down on the pull out and puts his head in his hands. Pope and JJ exchange a look. “B, get back up. I mean it. To the shower. You stink,” JJ quips.

“Shut up JJ. I’m not going. Who cares if I smell,” John B whispers.

JJ sits down next to his friend and wraps an arm around his shoulder. “First of all, I care. You’re too good looking to smell like shit. Second, you gotta go. It’s not really a choice. Heyward will come here and drag your ass over to his house if he has to. You know he will. If he has to do that and you smell like garbage he’s gonna be hella angry.”

“Pope, how often did my dad forget to order our stuff for the holiday?” John B looks up teary eyed at his friend.

The other boy bites his lip and shifts uncomfortably on his feet. “I don’t know man. I just deliver shit. He had to order at some point though since my mom and pops knew what he wanted each year, right?”

“I guess.” He pulls at the bandana around his neck and stares out the window. “Do you guys think he’s gonna come back? He’s never been gone this long. What’s gonna happen to me if he never comes back?”

JJ gulps. He has gone over this exact scenario in his head multiple times. If Big John is in fact gone DCS would come knocking soon. John B isn’t like him, he’s the type of kid that people notice. Someone that teachers and other adults care about and would question who was looking out for him. Sheriff Peterkin was already sniffing around a little too much for comfort.

His Uncle T made an appearance on the island last week but only stayed for a few days to sign some paperwork. His best friend isn’t savvy like him when it comes to evading authorities. Plus, the guy actually misses having a parental figure in his life, that much is clear. He’s barely surviving without someone looking out for him. Big John being gone for two weeks is not the same as disappearing forever. He must keep his friend away from the foster care system at all costs. The kid would never survive in a group home on the mainland and as a fifteen year old homeless kid that’s exactly where he’d be sent.

“Hey, he’s only been gone an extra two weeks. A month is like four weeks so yeah. Maybe he’s just super close to finding something and he’s lost track of time? But know if things go south you and I will just take the Phantom and go to Yucatán until the heat on you cools down. We’ll catch lobsters with our bare hands and sleep on the beach,” JJ spits out.

John B sighs. “Yeah, he’ll be back. He’s probably just about to get the gold so he can’t leave. When he comes back we’ll be rich.”

“True that. Just don’t forget about us Pogues when you and Big John strike it rich, bro. Ok, go wash up, JB. Clock’s a tickin’ and we have a Turkey Day meal to earn.”

“Thanks guys. I’ll be quick,” John B stands and goes into the bathroom.

Once the shower can be heard running Pope turns to him. “Dude. You have to stop giving him false hope like that. It’s not realistic and it’s not cool.”

JJ throws his hands up. “What am I supposed to say? You haven’t been here as much as me, Pope. He’s basically crying himself to sleep every night. He’s in a dark place. A little hope isn’t a bad thing.”

“My dad said they’ve called off the search for him. That’s what his Uncle Teddy was signing paperwork about. He’s officially John B’s guardian now and he’s not even on the damn island.” Pope looks over his shoulder towards the bathroom.

JJ sits down. “The fuck! Really? Does Peterkin know his uncle dipped? This isn’t good.”

“No it isn’t. Tomorrow after the holiday we need to clean this place up and make it look more presentable. Just in case,” Pope explains as he picks up a bong from the floor.

The water from the shower stops. JJ leans closer to Pope and whispers, “Ok. I’ll start prepping our boy with how to not really answer anything when DCS starts asking questions.”

The two nod at each other. JJ quickly changes his clothes into something with the least amount of holes. He’s sitting on the end of the pullout putting on his boots when John B comes out of his bedroom, hair still wet from the shower. He points at the tv and exclaims, “Hey JJ. The Olaf balloon is back again this year!”

They help Heyward pack and deliver countless last minute orders for the rest of the morning. It’s hard work but JJ doesn’t mind. It makes accepting the invitation to Thanksgiving at Pope’s house more palatable. He’s never one to take a hand out or charity so earning it feels better.

With Big John and John B’s rotisserie chicken and sides warmed in the microwave it didn’t feel like a handout. It was just three guys enjoying a day off and shooting the shit together. The first time he took part in a Chateau Thanksgiving it was simply because he had crawled through his best friend’s window the night before the holiday. Luke was annoyed at the sight of him when he returned from a night of gambling and losing. He had dealt with it by taking it out on his ten year old son’s face.

This would’ve been the fifth year in a row he attended Thanksgiving with his best friend and dad. The fifth time he’d wake up in the morning and switch on the tv to watch the parade make its way down 34th Street. The fifth time they ended the night around the fire pit in the backyard with Big John pointing out constellations and telling stories about the Royal Merchant. The fifth time he’d pretend it wasn’t a big deal that he was actually a part of some type of a tradition for some type of family.

He glances over at John B as they put together the last order together. His normally happy and goofy friend looks tired, older somehow. He wishes he could do something to make this whole horrible situation go away. Damn Big John and his unquenchable thirst for treasure. Didn’t the big dope see what he had right there in front of him?

“Boys, someone’s here to see you all,” Heyward’s booming voice breaks him from his thoughts.

He looks up and locks eyes with Kiara Carrera holding a takeout container in her hands. She smiles and waves shyly in the boys’ direction. JJ sighs and turns to John B and Pope. “Don’t move. I’ll deal with this. She’s on our turf in here.”

John B grimaces. “You sure? JJ, it’s ok. Maybe she just…”

“Nope,” he replies, making a point to over pronounce the p at the end. No way in hell is he letting his best friend deal with whatever this bullshit is. His heart is beating out of his chest as he walks towards her.

“Hi,” she says meekly.

“Outside. Not in here,” he mumbles as he walks past her and then stops. “Unless you’re afraid you’ll be seen with me out there. You know, in public?”

She frowns. “JJ, no. I just wanted to…”

He doesn’t let her finish. Instead he keeps walking out of the store. She follows him in silence. As soon as they’re outside he abruptly turns around to face her. “Making your yearly visit to see the charity boys princess? Getting community service hours for the academy?”

“Ok, I totally deserve that,” she replies, her eyes filling with tears.

“Yup, you do,” JJ shoots back as he folds his arms. “You have a lot of nerve just strolling into Heyward’s store and asking for us. You know that, right?”

Kiara bites her lip and nods. “Yeah, I know. I just wanted to make sure John B got this because I know how much he likes it. I was worried he didn’t come in for any because of how awful my dad was last year. So, um, I put aside an order of mac and cheese for you guys. That’s why I’m here. I tried the Chateau first but no one was there.”

“Keep your fucking Kooky ass mac and cheese. John B has enough on his mind right now than to worry about you and your asshole dad.” He shoots back as he glares at her.

Her hands start shaking and her face scrunches up. She tries to take in a deep breath but her lungs won’t let her. Suddenly hot tears are running down her face. “I…I’m…such a bitch. I’m…I’m s..s..so s..s..sor…sorry,” she hiccups.

JJ’s heart sinks seeing her fall apart like this. The girl in front of him is a shell of her former self. Far from the wild and free girl who was obsessed with social justice and the destruction of turtle habitats. Even when she walked in she had looked miserable. He can’t help himself so he wraps his arms around her in a hug. She buries her head against the crook of his neck and continues to shake and sob.

“Jesus, Kie,” is all he can muster, his heart beating quickly and his mouth going dry as he breathes in the comforting smell of her coconut shampoo.

God he’s missed her. He had thought that after she had come out to speak with them after their run in with Mike at the Wreck last year that maybe she’d reach out. Radio silence had followed however. The final straw for him was when she became besties with the head Kook Princess Sarah Cameron. He was convinced he had lost her to the dark side for forever at that point so he put up his walls again.

She pulls away from him. “You’re right. It was selfish of me to come here. I’m an asshole just like my dad. I’ll leave you guys alone now. I promise.”

He reaches out and gently grabs her arm. “Kie…what’s going on with you?” He manages to whisper.

She pauses and looks at his hand. “I’m so unhappy. I hate that fucking school and all the horrible people who go there. I’ve missed you guys for so long but my parents put an insane amount of pressure on me to be their perfect little daughter. I…I heard about Big John and wanted to talk to John B but…” she pauses to gather herself. “I didn’t want to make things worse. JJ, I’m sorry I hurt you guys. I’m so sorry I hurt…you. I know how hard it is for you to trust and I shattered that trust not one time but two times. I understand why you hate me. I hate myself too.”

He releases her arm and lets out a sigh. “I could never hate you, Kie. You know that. You know down deep I’m a big softie when it comes to you.”

“I’m starting at Kildare County High after the long weekend. I had it out with my parents and as long as I take honors level classes they’re allowing it,” she blurts out. “I’m all registered and have my schedule.”

JJ smirks. “So the princess is back to slumming it again, huh?” He grabs the mac and cheese out of her hand.

“Don’t ever call me princess again,” Kie sniffs but she’s managing a small smile.

“John B will be pumped about this mac and cheese. Wanna come in and give it to him? We’re about to head into the house for a traditional Heyward holiday celebration,” JJ looks down at his feet.

Kie shakes her head. “I have to get back home. I’m being required to enjoy the celebration of the mythical dinner between an unnamed indigenous tribe and white European settlers at the Island Club.”

“Please promise me that you’ll say ‘Happy Mythical Dinner of the blah blah blah’ to each and every Kook asshole you see at the club today,” JJ jokes.

Kie smiles warmly at him. “Only if you say it’s ok for me to stop by the Chateau tomorrow to formally apologize to the other guys. I don’t expect any of you to just let me back in. I know to have to earn it.”

“You got it, Kie,” and the two exchange the Pogue handshake and a hug before they part ways, both relieved and thankful to be connected again.

**

Thursday November 25, 2021

JJ wakes up to the smell coffee brewing and the sound of bacon sizzling on the frying pan. As he sits up and stretches he glances at the spot next to him-it’s empty. He sighs and rubs his eyes. It’s funny how at home he feels in the condo he’s sharing with Kie, John B, and Sarah since they’ve been back in Kildare. Although it’s only a temporary arrangement until the Chateau is rebuilt and he figures out where he’s going to live long term once everything with the gold is figured out, he’s never felt more settled anywhere else.

After he forces himself out of his warm bed he throws on a hoodie and sweatpants and makes his way down the hallway towards the sounds of his friends animatedly chatting. He turns the corner and finds he’s the last Pogue to get up this morning. John B and Sarah are snuggled close together on the couch while Pope and Cleo are seated at the breakfast bar sipping their mugs of coffee.

He can’t help but smile seeing Kie with her messy bun atop her head as she flips a pancake. She senses him looking her way so she pauses to smile and wink at him. He strolls up behind her, wraps his arms around her waist, and rests his chin on her shoulder as she continues cooking the group breakfast.

“Morning Jayj. Was wondering how long it was going to take you to join the land of the living. Cleo and Pope came by to join us for breakfast,” she smiles. “Grab yourself some coffee.”

He squeezes her tighter and sneaks a quick kiss to her neck. “That means I’d have to let go of you though.”

“You two are worse than us,” Sarah quips from the couch. “I honestly didn’t think that was possible.”

JJ and Kie flip her off simultaneously. Then they sneak in one more kiss before Kie pulls away. “I do need to finish breakfast at some point. Get your coffee and turn on the parade. I know you want to.”

“Okay okay,” he answers smiling. He pours himself a mug and settles in on the armchair next to the couch where John B and Sarah are a tangled mess of arms and legs.

The two are closer than ever since the group returned from El Dorado. Both of them losing so much while gaining the gold they were able to grab before the cavern walls came down and closed the rest of the treasure away forever. Big John and Ward were far from perfect but they were still their fathers. This wasn’t John B’s first Thanksgiving without his dad but now he’s officially gone forever. No doubt about it.

Somehow loss seems so much harder to deal with during a holiday. JJ understands this more than he’d like to. One of his clearest memories of his mother was her cooking something in their shack while he watched the Macy’s parade with her when he was four years old. He remembers pointing out the different balloons and floats to her. The rest of the day is pretty foggy but he knows she read him his favorite pirate book and they fell asleep together that night. Did she know it was their last Thanksgiving together? In less than a year she would completely disappear from her son’s life forever.

“Heyward wants us all over at the house no later than 1pm. We can’t be late again this year.” Pope declares, interrupting JJ’s thoughts.

Cleo shakes her head. “Pipe, we got plenty of time. Please try and learn how to relax my man. Besides, your dad loves me and if we’re late I’ll just say you guys were teaching me about this American holiday.”

“All you need to know is that it’s to celebrate a mythical dinner between a nameless indigenous tribe and white European settlers,” Kie interjects. “Oh, and Americans consume insane amounts of calories in its honor. Mama H puts out a mean spread so wear stretchy pants.”

JJ picks up the remote and turns on the flatscreen. “Cleo, you are about to experience an American institution. Are you prepared for the wonder?”

“I’m just excited for Baby Yoda,” Sarah chimes in.

Kie hands the blonde a plate and corrects her. “The child’s name is Grogu, Sarah. He has no relation to Yoda. They’re the same species. That’s it. Stop marginalizing him.”

“And you all say I’m a geek,” Pope shakes his head as he chomps on a piece of bacon.

JJ sits up straighter in his seat. “Holy shit! Do you guys see what I’m seeing? Joe is back! He’s back with Blue! See?”

A Blue’s Clue’s float with all three hosts of the show stops in Herald Square. The three men are singing “You Can’t Spell Blue without YOU” in harmony together while dancers twirl around their float. JJ doesn’t know the song but he’s clapping along and vibing with the beat.

Cleo is laughing hysterically. “I have no idea what’s happening right now.”

JJ looks appalled. “Blue and Joe were there for me through it all, Cleopatra. Did they not share this with the children of the Bahamas? We solved so many questions together. Wow, the show’s been on for 25 years? I can see why.”

“No they did not. Who are the other two guys? The old one and that one?” Cleo asks.

JJ gets up and gets closer to the tv to point out the different players in the Blue’s Clues universe. “That one’s Steve. He’s the OG host. Steve had to go to college so his little brother Joe took over and helped Blue find the answers to all the questions. Blue is the dog. Blue is actually a girl dog, not a guy dog.”

“Cheese on bread, JJ. I can tell Blue is the dog ‘cause she’s…blue. I meant the other human guy. Who is he?”

“Ohhh. I think his name is Josh? I was in high school once he came on. I didn’t watch it anymore. He’s Steve and Joe’s younger Filipino-American cousin,” he shrugs.

John B laughs. “Uh, for someone who didn’t watch the new host you seem to know a lot about him Jay.”

“Shut up B. It’s info that can easily be found using Google,” JJ flips off his best friend as he sits back down.

The Pogues have a great time watching JJ excitedly take in each and every part of the parade uninterrupted. He oohs and aahs at the marvel of Nelly performing just feet in front of the SpongeBob balloon. Cleo even gets up with him and the two of them kick along with Radio City Rockettes. But the most magical moment is when he finally gets to see Santa’s sleigh pull up in front of Macy’s while fake snow flutters down around him.

“Fuck yeah! It’s officially the Christmas season bitches!” He jumps up and fist bumps John B and Pope.

They make it to the Heyward home right on time. The small, humble house is packed with family and friends. As usual the Heywards go out of their way to make sure anyone and everyone who needs a place to celebrate is included-whether they’re from Figure 8, the Cut, or somewhere in between.

This is JJ’s third Thanksgiving with the Heyward’s. The first was back when Big John had just gone missing. That day started off in such a dark place but as he glances over at his girlfriend he remembers to be thankful that it was also the day she found her way back where she belonged.

He looks over at his best friend and brother. His second time being here on the fourth Thursday of November was last year. His heart aches thinking about how he was convinced that John B and Sarah were gone forever locked in an embrace at the bottom of the Atlantic. The Heywards had taken him in after Luke had nearly beaten him to death for taking the keys to the Phantom. He will forever be thankful to Pope’s parents for their kindness towards him. He remembers Mama H telling him that he would always have a home here as he helped her clean the dishes after all the guests had left for the night.

Due to the large number of guests in such a small space, the Heywards serve their meal more of a buffet style. John B is just in front of JJ as they’re making their way down the table and filling their plates. Suddenly his friend stops short in front of him, causing them to almost collide.

“Jesus, JB. You’re lucky you’re not wearing the food from my plate dude,” laughs JJ.

John B looks over at him with tears in his eyes and then looks back at the table. Next to the turkey are two small rotisserie chickens.

Heyward walks over and puts a hand on each of their shoulders. “Some traditions need to live on forever. Right boys? Happy Thanksgiving you little shits.”