Mr. Thanks

The fourth Thursday in November. The day people call you fat and you don’t mind. Thanksgiving Day.

You walk down the stairs and smell all the different foods. It’s a delight to your nose and you’re excited to eat but you have to hold yourself for another three hours. It’s long but when your family members come over, it goes by like if you snapped into the future.

As you walk down the cluttered stairs, you accidentally hit your foot on a Christmas ornament.

Christmas?!? It’s Thanksgiving? Then you remember your crazy older sister, and she thinks that Christmas starts on the first of November.

You massage your toe and continue down the stairs. You find your mother in the kitchen, and you offer to help but she just screams for you to get out and do your own thing.

You find your sister in the dining room on a call. Now this was the sibling code, you mustn’t interrupt your older sister when she’s on a call. So, you quietly walk through the dining room, you look around for a little bit. It’s… pretty. There’s a brownish orange tablecloth laid on the table. There are fairy lights hanging in the background. There are loads of empty plates on the table, ready to be filled and then emptied again.

“Get out!!!” Your sister screams at you so, you quickly run out of the dining room and enter the living room. Your uncle is there, completely laid out on the couch, watching television, holding a bowl of chips on his enlarging stomach. And you mean “enlarging stomach” kindly. What you really meant were these specific words, Gordura, Graisse, Körperfett, and Grasso.

“Hey!!! How’s it going buddy? Doing well?” He paused his television show to look over at you. You shake your head in disbelief, wondering how he’s possibly related to you. You turn your head to the back porch and see a flame. What could be happening out there?!?

“Hey! A little help over here?!?” Your father is mastering the grill. He’s really good at cooking but under pressure, things can be rough.

“Sure, dad!” You run outside and attempt to help him. It’s hard because you don’t exactly know what to do, but he takes you through the steps. Because you left the door open, your indoor cat runs outside, desperate for a bit of nature time.

“No!!!” You scream. You drop the grilling tongs, and you can hear your father yell your name. You run after Crookshanks as you watch her fluffy, orange tail bounce around. Luckily, you’re able to catch her and bring her inside. As you place her down, you trip and fall because of your dog, Chewbacca, or Chewie.

It was hectic, that’s for sure. And not even everyone had arrived yet!

You check on your mother once more, and you offer to help, and just her glare scares you.

“Ralph…” Her voice was calm. That meant she was pissed. “Get out!!!” You run out of the room in a fright. It’s like Halloween has come back. You run up the stairs and enter your room. You quickly shut the door and breathe out air it seems you’ve been holding in. You face the center of your room, take three steps inward, and immediately stop.

* * *

“Uncle Jeff?” You’re very worried. He responds weakly but doesn’t look up. “Uncle Jeff!”

“Yeah, what’s up, kiddo?” He looks over and a shocked look appears on his face just like it did with yourself when you were in your room.

“You found your new cousin!” Uncle Jeff said. You feel stupid standing there holding a baby that you’ve never met before.

“This is your kid?” You hold the child like it just did a massive dump in its diaper, far away from you.

“Yeah!” Uncle Jeff was acting like this was an everyday chat. You, in disbelief again, hand the baby to him and carry on your way.

“Ralph! Get the door!” You hear your mother yell from the kitchen.

“Got it!” You run down half the hallway and leave the other half to slide on your socks. You can feel the cold metal of the doorknob and you open the door.

Oh no…

* * *

“Hey there!” Your mother saves you from who’s standing in the door frame.

Not that family. Anyone! Anyone else but them. You shame your mother for inviting them in a whisper as you walk down the hallway to run back upstairs. This was that one family that you cannot stand. They had two young children, both girls. All they did was scream, cry, and the thing that you detest the most was that they got what they wanted.

Once, you remember that you were having dinner with them and the two girls wanted to sit next to their mother. Because you always split the table by kid’s side is one side and adults the other, you cannot sit on the other side. Unfortunately, the two girls wanted to sit next to their mother. They started crying and flailing their arms and were able to sit with her. Once they left to go home, your mother told you that if you ever, ever did that at somebody else’s house, she’d smack you so hard, you’d end up living with that family. Of course, you know that she’s not really going to smack you, she just says that to make it sound serious.

You get to your room and finally relax. You lie down on your bed, and you look up at the ceiling.

* * *

“Ralph! Get downstairs, it’s time for dinner!” Your mother calls upstairs, and you realize you must have fallen asleep.

You run down the stairs and are careful not to hit your toe again. You walk into the living room, and most eyes are laid on you. You hear whispers about the name Mr. Thanks.

Mr. Thanks is a genuinely nice person who loves Thanksgiving. He’s exceptionally good about what he says he’s thankful about each year.

You sit down and put your napkin over your lap. Everyone congratulates your parents. You all stay silent to pray but you open your eyes just a little to see who’s here. You have your grandparents, your aunts, your uncles, and all of your cousins. And thankfully, your favorite. Your cousin, Beatrix, is around your age and she also has her eyes open. You give her a smile and realize it’s time to give thanks.

Thanksgiving is your favorite holiday. So is Mr. Thanks’s. All your friends say you’re incredibly kind. So is Mr. Thanks’s. You have a handmade certificate saying that you’re the best at giving thanks around the table. So does Mr. Thanks. You are Mr. Thanks. Mr. Thanks is you.

“Time to say thank you’s all around the table! Who’d like to start?” Whispers of your nickname go around the table.

“Mr. Thanks? Would you like to start?”

You take a drink of your juice and begin.

“This year,” smiles go around the table, “I am thankful for…”