Will You Keep Me Alive?

I didn’t realize that it was November already. Arizona was still very sunny, but the rather cool breeze made up for it. Thanksgiving was just around the corner, and my dad made it home yesterday so he could spend time with us. The last time he was home was around nine months ago. He didn’t change at all; his face was very clean-shaved and his hair was swept back, although there were more grey hair showing.

I missed his pancakes. He would throw in some blueberries or chocolate chips into them. I also loved his coffee. No one knew how he did it, not even Mom, but the coffee he brewed tasted different than any other in the world. He didn’t want to share his secret and me and Kennedy tried to remake it but we failed miserably.

He poured the coffee into my mug. I brought the mug close to my nose and inhaled it. I could tell a hint of hazelnut and caramel mixed with the coffee itself. I took a sip, taking in the aroma and how it tasted. I missed it.

“It seems like you haven’t had coffee for years,” he laughed.

“Not your coffee. No coffee in this world is even worth comparing,” I replied, taking one blueberry and one chocolate chip pancakes.

It was breakfast time at our house. I, Kennedy, Mom, and Dad were all in the living room having breakfast together. I couldn’t remember the last time we all sat down in the morning and ate together. Usually Kennedy and I would sleep in until late and have lunch as our first meal instead.

“When’s your holiday for Thanksgiving, Daphne?” Mom asked, slicing her blueberry pancake.

“Today’s the last day. Can I invite John to our Thanksgiving dinner?” I asked.

“Of course! I’ve missed that boy,” Dad beamed with excitement. “Why don’t you invite Gabi too, Kennedy?”

“I already did, she can’t go,” Kennedy answered before sipping his coffee. “But she said she wants to come over for lunch.”

I finished my breakfast and brought dirty dishes into the sink and placed it on the sink. “I have to go for college now,” I said, walking back into the dining room to give each Mom and Dad a kiss on the cheek.

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom stopped me before I went out to the foyer, “Kennedy will be using his car so you just use mine instead, okay?”

“Sure,” I replied and went to the foyer. I grabbed my bag on a chair and my books and Mom’s car keys on the end table next to it before leaving for class.

- - -

All of a sudden, it was Thanksgiving Day. John showed up at my porch at exactly six PM, looking extremely handsome in black skinny jeans and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Hey, beautiful,” he greeted, reaching down to give me a peck on the lips. I let him in and into the living room where Kennedy and Dad are watching a football game.

“Johnny boy!” Dad got up from the sofa enthusiastically as he noticed us entering the room. They shook hands and Dad gave him a quick friendly hug before John and Kennedy did one of those secret handshakes.

“Right, I’m going back to the kitchen to help Mom out,” I announced as they slouched back on the couch.

Dinner was ready an hour later. Roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie . . . the usual food that you could find in a Thanksgiving meal. We all sat down, John next to me, Mom and Kennedy across us, and Dad at the end of the table, in the middle of Mom and John.

The dinner went well. John and Dad did a lot of catching up; they had always gotten along very well. We were finishing dinner by eating the pumpkin pie, until Dad brought up our relationship.

“I never thought you guys would end up dating, for a long time even!” he said, sipping his red wine.

“Wasn’t that surprising actually, they have always been mushy with each other, it was sickening,” Kennedy corrected.

“You’re just jealous,” I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Yeah, you’re just jelly, Kenny-poo,” John followed. I watched as they continued to talk. It was amazing how John could get along with my family so well and that they’ve known each other since we were little. It was almost like he was already a part of the family.

My thought was interrupted when John cleared his throat and began to seem nervous. “Actually, Mister and Mrs. Brock . . . if- if I may, I want to say something.” The room fell silent. John took that as a yes as he cleared his throat again and started talking, sometimes he stammered from being anxious so I took his hand in mine.

“To begin with, I have always loved Daphne with all my heart. I may have hurt her once, or twice, or thrice, but I never mean to. All I want to do is to protect her – she’s perfect. She’s kind, she’s beautiful, she’s clever, she’s hopeful, she’s a believer. One day I woke up and realized that I don’t want to lose her. Ever. I really, really love her. And if I lose her, I ... I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life. I will cherish her with love every day and protect her until the end of my life.” I felt his hand pressed a bit harder. “May I have your blessing to marry your daughter?”

My grip on his hand loosened as I felt shock ran through my whole body.