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“—and that’s why they’re gonna love y’all!!”
Cyborg’s enthusiasm for introducing his friends to his entire extended family was not at all diminished by this being the twenty-seventh time he’d repeated the exact same descriptions and reassurances he’d originally used to entice his team into agreeing to attend the Stone family Thanksgiving. He readjusted his grip on the T-Car’s steering wheel, and bumped the radio’s volume a few decibels for good measure. Cheery holiday music boomed out.
“Oh yes, we are very eager to give the thanks unto the great pilgrim bird. We are all most grateful for this holiday occasion,” Starfire said.
“Heck yeah, dude. Food, family, and more food? What’s not to love?” Beast Boy added.
Robin and Raven exchanged a quick glance.
“Yeah, it’s really nice of your family to invite all of us—“ Raven began.
“But are you sure they’re okay with a group of strangers joining a family event?” Robin finished.
“Strangers?!” The servos in Cyborg’s hands whined. “No stranger’s on my team. You’re family, and everyone’s gonna love you. Besides, Mama always makes too much sweet potato pie—you’re doing us a favor!”
The Titans fell into a companionable rhythm of chatting, strategizing, and watching the coastal highway roll past as they left the Jump City suburbs and drew closer to Cyborg's family home.
At last, it came into view. A cozy two story residence with slightly faded white siding and an immaculately maintained front lawn, several vehicles parked neatly in its double driveway, and several more parked along the curb in front of the property.
“So, totally not worried, but just making absolutely sure,” Beast Boy said, “you really think your family will be cool hosting… us?”
“Of course! They’re cool with a quarter ton piece of muscle and machinery, right? You pack of weirdos won’t faze them. Ah! Hey, Mama!”
Cyborg suddenly flung the door open, and, with surprising agility, sprang out to scoop up the approaching figure of a tiny woman in a plaid cardigan.
“Hey, baby boy! These your friends?” Cyborg’s mother smoothed her cardigan from the massive embrace, and offered the other teenagers a warm smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Stone. Thank you for welcoming us to your home, ma’am,” Robin said.
“Ooh, such nice manners, and such a handsome young man!” Mrs. Stone fanned herself and gave Robin a grinning wink, which made him blush while Cyborg rolled his eyes.
“Mama, please.”
“Well, you kids are all very welcome here,” she continued. “Now come inside out of the cold, and meet the rest of the family.”
The Titans trooped up the sidewalk behind Mrs. Stone, Robin close behind and blush still fading, Starfire and Beast Boy exclaiming over the fall leaves and pumpkins, and Raven cautiously scanning the surrounding landscape, as if for danger and escape routes. Cyborg noticed her unease, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, it’s going to be great. But if you need some space, no one’s gonna mind. Pawpaw spends every year on the porch, never says a word to anyone, and we all love him. You do what you need to do.”
Raven didn’t quite smile, but her slight nod meant she was feeling a little more at ease.
Mrs. Stone pushed open the front door, and the smells and sounds of Thanksgiving washed over the Titans. “Hey, everyone, Vicky and his friends are home! Come say hi!”
“Vicky?” Beast Boy giggled quietly.
“Mamaaaa, no one’s called me that since I was, like, eight,” Cyborg groaned.
“Oh, sorry, Big Vic,” Mrs. Stone said, giving her son another hug. Beast Boy giggled again, and even Raven cracked a tiny smile. “No matter how big you get, you’ll always be my baby boy.”
The moment was interrupted by an absolute cavalcade of clamoring children, spilling over each other in their eagerness to get at Cyborg, tackling him to the ground in a pile of limbs and demands.
“Vic! Vic! Can we play Smash Bros?”
“No way, I wanna watch you play Fortnight. Mikey from Mrs. Euhart’s class said the new dance is sooo cringe–we gotta try it!”
“I grew since last year, even though Tina says I didn’t, but I did!”
“Not that much, Bobby, and besides, it’s cooler that I lost both front teeth, and the tooth fairy gave me five dollars. Lookit!”
“Can we blow up pumpkins again with your laser arm? Pleeeeeease?”
“Vic, who are these people?” At the last question, all of the kids suddenly fell silent, looking expectantly at the other Titans.
“Woah, hey cousins! This is my crew. We got Robin,” Robbin gave a stiff wave, “Raven,” Raven looked horrified, “Starfire,” Starfire was vibrating with the need to scoop up and exclaim over the cousins, “and Beast Boy,” Beast Boy flashed a peace sign and a grin—he was only a few years older than the oldest cousin, Margot, the one who had asked.
“Why they call you Beast Boy?” Tina demanded through her missing teeth.
“‘Cuz I can do this,” with a flourish, Beast Boy transformed into a turkey, and began scrambling around the entry hall with a flurry of green feathers, then a hound dog with a frantically wagging tale, and finally the smallest dinosaur in his arsenal, a microraptor about as tall as the youngest cousin, Bobby.
The collective energy of the young cousins went from excited, to positively explosive.
“Vic didn’t tell us you were a dinosaur!”
“Can you do a pony? I want rides!”
“Be a gorilla and throw me!”
“Can you be a dog again? Daddy says I’m too little for one, but if I’m good with you maybe he’ll change his mind!”
“Hey, y’all,” Cyborg placated, “go easy on the guy, he’s not used to cousins.”
“Are you kidding, dude?” Beast Boy was… glowing? “This is fantastic! Can we go outside and play, Mrs. Stone?”
“Of course, honey! Y’all bundle up though, it’s getting cold. And don’t play too rough on him, kids.”
“But what about Smash Bros?” Cyborg asked. “Don’t y’all want to watch me play Fortnight?”
“Maybe later, Vicky! Sorry!” With that, the children swept out the front door, carrying Beast Boy on a wave of coats and mittens, leaving the front hallway silent, and Cyborg feeling a strange sense of confusion.
“Hey, Vic, come in here and give your old man some love!”
“Daddy!” Cyborg exclaimed. He bounded into the living room, the remaining Titans following behind, and stopped in front of a leather couch aimed at a huge flatscreen television where a football game rumbled in the background.
“Hey there, son! What’s going on? How was the drive?”
“Hey, Daddy, all's good—“
“Hey Vic!” Another man, a younger, bearded version of Cyborg’s father called, “Good to see you, but you gotta scoot, man. You make a better door than a window, and the Forty-Niners just took possession.”
“You be nice to that young man, Joe, or you’re walking home tonight,” a female voice called from behind the couch. A folding table was set up there, surrounded by four women pouring over a card game and a box of red wine.
“Tia Carol! Hey ladies!” Cyborg was by their table instantly for a round of hugs. “Tia Carol, Auntie Margaret, Great Aunt Coco, and Aunt Kim,” the women around the table each waved in turn.
“Handsome boy just gets better looking each year,” Great Aunt Coco’s many rings clacked together as she patted Cyborg’s cheek with a wrinkled hand.
“He’s lost weight,” Auntie Margaret said, frowning over her cat-eye glasses. “You eating ok, baby?”
“No, no—he’s gained weight,” Aunt Kim disagreed, surreptitiously rearranging her cards, “he’s growing up and filling out like his Daddy and Uncle Joe.”
“Lost weight.”
“Gained weight.”
“Ladies, please,” Mrs. Stone interrupted. “I’m gonna go check on the kitchen so we can get some solid food into you, in addition to that Cab Sav. Spades gets y’all wild.”
“Do you need any help, Ma’am?” Robin asked, cool demeanor almost, but not quite, concealing the underlying eagerness to help and to be praised.
“Sure, sweetie! Kitchen’s this way. Ladies,” she leveled a mock-serious glare at the other women, “be good.”
“Where are these feral shovels?” Starfire asked as Mrs. Stone left. “All I see are paper rectangles?”
“Victor hasn’t taught you how to play cards?” Uncle Joe exclaimed from the couch. The four women leveled incredulous stares at Cyborg, who shifted awkwardly.
“Well, we’ve been kinda busy, you know, fighting crime and classes and stuff.”
“Uh-huh,” Auntie Margaret adjusted her glasses with a final cool glance. “Well, we’re just going to have to fix that! Come here, sweet girl, you sit with me and you’ll be a card shark in no time.”
“I would love to be a shark, so that Beast Boy and I may have that in common,” Starfire said.
“I love this girl!” Great Aunt Coco exclaimed.
“She’d be better off sitting with me,” Aunt Kim sniffed, “Maggie gets too bogged down in explaining the rules.”
“Well, at least I don’t table-talk!” Auntie Margaret shot back, topping off her glass of wine.
“I’m on your team, don’t call us out like that!”
“So you admit it!”
“Hey, Cyborg,” Raven said softly, placing a cool hand on his arm. “I think I could go for some porch time.”
“Yeah, actually, I think I could, too,” he agreed, perplexed by his growing feeling of disquiet. “Follow me.”
They pushed through the back screen door, onto an open porch overlooking the wide backyard. Beast Boy was currently a brontosaurus, and the young cousins were taking turns sliding down his tail, roaring with laughter. Cyborg frowned, but turned toward the pair of rocking chairs against the side of the house. One was occupied by a man in his late thirties, a striking resemblance to Cyborg’s mother, a beer in one hand and scrolling his phone with the other. The other chair held a shriveled, cross looking old man under a blue quilt, jaw clenched tightly and gray head turned to scowl across the backyard.
“Hey, Victor, what’s good, man?” The younger man looked up from his phone.
“Hey, Uncle Darnell. This is my friend, Raven. We were just stepping out for some quiet time.”
“Well, as you can see, me and PawPaw were deep in conversation,” PawPaw clenched his jaw more tightly, “but I was actually needing another beer soon. How about you two take over for me?”
“Sure, Uncle D, we got this,” Cyborg smiled and took his uncle’s seat as Darnell turned to head back inside.
“Victor probably told you,” Darnell said, addressing Raven in a low voice, “but PawPaw doesn’t talk much, and when he does he can be a bit prickly. It mostly started when we lost Momma a few years back. Just don’t take it personally.”
Raven’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded silently, before crossing her legs and rising into the air in her pose of relaxed meditation.
“Your friend’s cool, Vic,” Darnell said, but otherwise offered no remark on the levitating teen before heading in through the screen door.
All was quiet on the porch, save for the distant, delighted shrieks of the cousins—Beast Boy was now a gorilla, throwing each child high into the air, before leaping after them to catch and return them safely to the ground—and Raven’s quiet chanting of her meditation mantra.
Cyborg leaned back into the rocking chair, closing his eyes and trying to make sense of his feelings. He should be having fun. Playing with the cousins, watching the game, losing at cards. Why wasn’t he having fun?
Mama! He hadn’t done any cooking today with Mama. Maybe some productive time in the kitchen with her and Robin would help him feel better. That must be it. Besides, a little pre-dinner taste testing wouldn’t hurt his mood either.
“Let me give you two some space,” Cyborg stood with the quiet whirring and clicking of joint gears, offering Raven and Pawpaw a small smile as he turned back toward the screen door. Neither reacted as he returned inside.
Cyborg passed the raucous sounds of football and cards coming from the living room—“Yes! All of your little shovels must yield to my shovel queen!”—following his nose towards the warm scents of sage, butter, and brown sugar wafting from the kitchen.
“Great work!” his Mama was saying. “Everything’s just about ready, we just want to make sure it’s nice and hot before we call everyone in for dinner. Oh, hey baby!” She waved at Cyborg as he peeked through the door. “Perfect timing—we were just getting ready to lick the spoons.”
Cyborg perked up. Most of the cooking was done, but there was still plenty to do in the kitchen.
The three of them gathered the assorted dirty pots, pans, bowls, and spoons—taking care to generously sample the dishes for quality control as they worked—and quickly had a drying rack full of washed dishes and a sparkling clean kitchen.
“Thank you boys for all your hard work. Robin, want to make a round to let folks know they can come fix their plates?”
“Yes ma’am! You can count on me.”
“Thank you, sweetie.”
“What about me, Mama?”
“Will you please go outside and call in the cousins, and then help make a plate for Pawpaw?”
“Will do!”
“That’s my boy,” she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
Cyborg pushed open the screen door, called out “Food’s done!” and barely jumped out of the way in time for six pre-teen cousins and a green cheetah to barrel past him and into the hallway.
“Y’all work up an appetite or what?” He asked the passing crowd of younger children.
“So tired… from playing… must… eat…” Beast Boy gasped, now a sloth dragging himself along the wooden floorboards of the hallway.
“They play hard, right?” Cyborg said.
“They’re maniacs!” Beast Boy agreed.
Cyborg turned back to the screen door with a laugh, and nearly bumped into Raven.
“Hey! Was just coming to find you,” Cyborg greeted her. “I need to ask Pawpaw what he wants on his plate. How are things going out there for you two?”
“Oh, actually, things are surprisingly…nice?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. So he asked me some questions, and I wound up telling him I’m a demon.”
“He didn’t freak out?” Cyborg said, incredulous.
“No, he said he knew a thing or two about demons. Something to do with a place called Vietnam?”
“He told you about Vietnam?” Cyborg said, shaken. “Pawpaw doesn’t tell anybody about Vietnam.”
“I guess? Then he asked me to make him a plate with ‘all the Thanksgiving’?”
“I-I—“ Cyborg began. The sound that escaped him was awfully close to a squeak for someone nearly old enough to vote, and who prided himself on his mature communication skills. He abruptly turned on his heel and pounded up the stairs towards his childhood bedroom.
“Cyborg?” Raven called after him.
He rushed along the second floor hallway, pushed through the door of his childhood bedroom, and flung himself into his narrow twin bed. The springs groaned alarmingly, but held his weight as he buried his face in his pillows. Why was he feeling so bad?
A few minutes passed, but that nebulous, negative feeling remained. The hallway floorboards squeaked softly as light, quick footsteps approached down the hall. Mama.
“Victor?” His mother asked, gently rapping a knuckle against the door frame. “Victor, baby, is everything alright?”
He swallowed a lump in his throat, but slowly sat up and faced her. “I don’t know, Mama. I’ve got my family and friends right here, good food waiting, Holiday traditions, everything a person could want. But I’m feeling down, and I don’t know why. Why am I feeling so bad?”
“I’m sorry, baby,” his mother said, taking a seat on the edge of his bed and gently running her hand along the plasteel plating of his back. “Want to talk about it?”
“I just wanted my friends and family to meet each other, for the team to have a real family holiday, and for everyone to get along.”
“Is everyone not getting along?”
“No, that’s just it. Everybody’s getting along great. The cousins love Beast Boy, the ladies love Starfire, you and Robin are doing great in the kitchen, and even Pawpaw talked to Raven. He told her about Vietnam!”
“Wow.”
“Right? Like, I’m glad Pawpaw talked to someone, but also I kinda wish… I wish that someone had been me.”
“Ah, I think I see what’s happening,” his mother said, wrapping an arm as far around his shoulders as she could reach. “You recognized a chance to connect two groups you love, and were exactly right that they’d love each other, too. Did I ever tell you about the first Thanksgiving your daddy and I hosted both sides of our families?”
“Only a hundred times, Mama,” Cyborg smiled. “But tell me again?”
“Well, your daddy and I had just closed on our first home together, and we wanted to show our families we were real adults by hosting Thanksgiving. But we couldn’t just pick one side and leave the other out, so we decided we’d use the occasion to officially introduce the entirety of our families to each other.”
“A big task for little adults,” Cyborg said on cue.
“Yes indeed,” his mother agreed. “But us two little adults cooked and cleaned for a full week in advance, made last minute store runs so we wouldn’t forget anything, and, most importantly, we strategized and agonized over conversation topics and group activities so everyone had—what we hoped would be—the best chance of getting along.”
“And did your planning pay off?” Cyborg asked, leaning anew into the familiar story.
“Well, yes and no,” his mother laughed. “The cooking was sure appreciated, but the social planning turned out wildly off base.”
“Did folks not get along?”
“Just the opposite. Our families loved each other. In fact, they got along so well that your daddy and I found ourselves getting pushed to the side. We were happy everyone was getting along, but we realized, in the excitement of this new mix, we weren’t sure how to fit ourselves into the shuffle.”
Cyborg nodded. “You felt left out at your own family holiday?”
“Definitely, at least at first. But once we realized that, we found a quiet place to sit and regroup, to check in with each other, and to remind ourselves that both of our families loved both of us very much. They didn’t mean to leave us out. If anything, they were eager to prove to us they could get along independently. But also, I think, no one person or group wanted to corner all of our attention when they felt like there were so many people we—as the glue between the two groups—might like to spend time with.”
“So what did you do?”
“It took some assertiveness, and some strategic interruptions, but we just started jumping in with different groups, and, before we knew it, we were mixed back into the shuffle. We did try to mingle with everyone, but we also made time for the one-on-one conversations as they happened. It helped to remember that our families wanted to include us. Victor,” she squeezed his shoulder, “your families want to include you.”
Cyborg swallowed again, blinking rapidly, then threw his arms around his mother. “Thanks, Mama. I think I know what to do.”
“Does it include remembering to fix yourself a plate of Thanksgiving?”
“That’s the number one step!”
Cyborg and his mother descended the stairs into the sights, sounds, and smells of a blended family Thanksgiving dinner. Dad and Uncle Joe were barely concealing grins as they skeptically watched how Bobby and Tina gently played with a drooping basset hound Beast Boy. Starfire was exclaiming over the rest of the younger cousins, comparing their sizes to various Tamaran wildlife while the Aunties lavished praise on a beaming Robin, his muscles, and how helpful he had been in the kitchen. Off to the side, Uncle Darnell and Raven reclined quietly against the wall, only breaking their relaxed observation when one or the other of them needed to fetch Pawpaw more sweet potatoes. Pawpaw huddled next to them in the corner, but his scowl was less entrenched than Cyborg had seen in years.
It would take some assertiveness and strategic interruptions, he was sure. But he was also sure that his families loved him, and that they wanted to include him in this new Thanksgiving tradition. With a final smile at his mama, he grabbed a plate, and jumped in.