Chapter 20.2

The day before Thanksgiving was a whirlwind of preparation. Mia offered to run last minute errands, since she had a shift at the bar that evening and wouldn’t be much help in the kitchen, and Jodie handed her a list of items and a credit card. Meanwhile, Mitch set up shop across the countertops and stove, trading off with Jodie between preparing ingredients and cooking them. A few of the items required multiple batches made with varying ingredients, since Gianna was recently diagnosed with Celiac disease and Arin had a dairy allergy.

As Mitch baked and Jodie read the final guest list aloud to make sure she got her count correct, Avi came into the kitchen with his carry on bag. He commented on how wonderful it smelled, then wished them both a happy holiday with about as much enthusiasm as a person about to travel on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving could possibly give.

“Have a safe flight,” Mitch looked up and gave him a little wave.

“…Wil, Gia…Toby,” Jodie growled at the last name, and Mitch winced. She then put down the piece of paper, got up from her seat, and pulled Avi into a hug. “Aw, I wish you could stay. Why can’t Charlie come out here? We can make vegan stuff for you. Mitch, help me bully him into staying.”

“Jo…” Trailing off, Mitch shook his head the turned his attention back to the stove.

“Oh, if I don’t spend time with Charlie’s family during Thanksgiving, I’m a dead man,” Avi chuckled. “But thanks. I’ll miss you both.”

He got free of Jodie’s grasp and squeezed Mitch’s shoulder on the way out. Once he was gone, the house was terribly empty without his presence. Weekends in general were devoid of Avi since he was usually booked somewhere across the country, but this was different. He’d become part of the fold, absorbed into their weird family, and to not have him at the table with the rest of them sucked, frankly.

“Is it me, or was he upstairs all day?” asked Jodie, and Mitch shrugged.

 “Dunno. I don’t pay attention to his comings and goings,” he lied, and Jodie snorted at him.

“Yeah, OK,” she muttered. “You think he would have come down to hang out. Wonder if he hates his in-laws or something and has to prepare himself for that.”

Mitch stayed silent and filled a piecrust with pumpkin puree, trying to think about anything other than Avi getting on a plane to see his perfect girlfriend and her presumably perfect family. His insides twisted, and he raked himself over the coals for being a petulant child about an American taking part in an American tradition instead of hanging out with the freakshow (affectionate).

Besides, everything was bound to be less complicated with him gone. Ever since Toby met Avi, Toby turned around and prodded Mitch with ceaseless inquiries, which grated his nerves. Mitch made best attempts to deflect, but Toby was a bloodhound once he caught whiff of something of intrigue. The end result was a wretched balancing act where both of them pretended to be just naive enough as a way to outfox the other. Eventually, one of them was bound to end up in a snare.

He slammed the pie tin down onto the counter several times with much more force than necessary as he tried to get the bubbles out of the batter, which sent bits of pumpkin splattering here and there. The hard date flashed into his mind, and he wondered if he could even make it to the end of December before this was destined to fail yet again. Yes, Toby had gotten better at being a partner, but that wasn’t saying much when he was still very much Toby. Still sought shortcuts, still was low risk but high reward with regards to personal gains.

Everything was on track to a promising future until this shit. And maybe this entire situation wasn’t fair to Toby, but Mitch became a broken record about boundaries and how they weren’t together; aside from shielding Avi’s privacy, Mitch stayed as transparent as he possibly could. If Toby continued to push, the only thing that he would achieve was shaving time off of Mitch’s decision, and it would not be in his favor.

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It was quarter to midnight when Mitch and Jodie wrapped up in the kitchen. Mitch untied his apron and slung it over the back of a chair, then he migrated to the livingroom and collapsed onto the sofa while Jodie sunk into the recliner and kicked her legs up. Half-asleep, Mitch’s gaze drifted from Jodie to the framed Suspiria poster above her head, and he huffed out a small laugh. Nothing promoted themes such as “warmth” and “togetherness” and “love” than a gorehound’s rancid decor choices. At least she’d taken down the creepy Suehiro Mauro fetish print for the time being, to the relief of both him and Avi. They’d griped to one another about the bad vibes that emanated from the artwork on several occasions. Sometimes Mia stuck googly eyes onto the distorted faces, which didn’t make it much better.

“Let’s just buy everything next year,” she groaned. “This is way too much. My knee’s too messed up to be standing for that long.” She massaged it and whined in pain. Years passed since she’d been injured during roller derby, but it still plagued her to the day despite her efforts to downplay the severity.

“Wasn’t this supposed to be a potluck?” Mitch asked as he stretched out.

“No, but it should be. Nora’s taking care of the turkey, thank GOD. Twenty people! Am I insane?”

“Yeah,” Mitch answered smugly, and if looks could kill he’d be a dead man. Jodie held up a pillow to whip it at his head, but lowered it and looked towards the window that faced the driveway.

“Mia’s home early,” she remarked.

“Bar probably closes early on the night before a holiday?” Mitch shrugged and grabbed the TV remote from off of the coffee table. As he nestled under a throw blanket and flipped through the channels, he thought out loud. “Survivor Series used to take place on Thanksgiving. Why doesn’t Monster Mash do anything like that?”

“Dad’s actually brought this up before. It’s too close to Graveyard Smash and Krampusnacht, though.” That made sense. Unfortunately, both events were too important to the promotion to forgo. “Y’know, he actually worked a few of them, back in the day.”

“Huh.” Settling on Nova, he half paid attention to the special airing about a family of peregrine falcons. He’d have to ask Victor about his experiences in The Fed later; although after enough drinks, they were bound to come up anyway.

The front door opened and cold air rushed in, which Mitch responded to by burrowing further. He pulled the vape pen out of his pocket and turned it on for Mia, fully anticipating some wild stories about regular patrons that she dealt with.

But it wasn’t Mia that greeted them; under absolutely no circumstances did Mitch expect the person walking in to be Avi.

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