Paper Planes

Thanksgiving is a holiday where people eat way too much food, drink a bit too much around their family, but are too tired by the end of the night to say anything too terribly rude to one another. From dictionary Tucker.

"Excited for another classic American holiday?" Tucker asked sarcastically.

"I guess."

"You guess? I mean, you're meeting my family. That's kind of big."

"I'm just starting to feel bad."

"Do we need to stay home? Should I call a doctor?" He asked, coming up behind me in front of the mirror.

"No, no. Not that way," I said, putting my hair up. I looked over my ensemble in the mirror. I gazed into Tucker's eyes when I was done. "I mean, I feel.... guilty. That everyone thinks we are really together." When we are, apparently, just friends.

"Well, we are kind of together, Padma."

"I thought we were just friends?"

"Friends?"

"Yes."

"Padma," he said, raising his voice, "I spend all of my time at home trying to make you happy. You make me breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We sleep in the same bed. We're getting married in less than a month. How are we just friends?"

I guess I should have been happy, but for some reason, I wasn't. I guess it's nice that he tries to make me happy, but I have to cook for him and sleep in his bed. We have to get married. That's part of the agreement. "Most of that stuff was just part of our agreement! I just assumed that when you said me going home would be like losing a friend that you only thought of me that way."

Tucker wrapped his arms around me. "I don't think that at all, honey. I mean, most people wouldn't be rushing into marriage this quickly, but you mean a lot to me!" We're getting married in a month, and we can't say I love you to one another.

I put on a fake smile that he must have bought because we soon left for the hour long drive to see his family.

"Padma!" his mom called out when I walked in the door.

"Hello, Betty! It is so nice to see you!"

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Padma. This is the perfect girl who will be marrying my son in a month."

The pang of guilt kicked in again. The perfect girl who your son doesn't love.

She introduced me to everyone as Tucker trailed behind us. "Here, have a glass of wine, I need to go talk to my brother."

She handed me a glass of wine off of the table. "What's wrong. Still feeling guilty?"

I bit my lip and nodded. "Your mother is just so nice."

"Yeah. I guess I didn't know what you were talking about. But now I realize that guilt." He chuckled slightly.

I sipped on my wine all night. We 'mingled' with his family until his mom pulled me to the couch. Tucker sat next to me and held my hand. I think he could tell I was feeling guilty again, because he squeezed it re-assuringly and sent me a smile.

"Now, like all mothers, I must totally embarrass my son before he gets married. So," she said, opening a book, "here's Tucker right after we brought him home. We had to bathe him in the the sink," Tucker groaned next to me. "He was so afraid of water, though. Look at his little mop of hair! Isn't it funny that it only grew on the very top of his head? It did that until he was about two and a half."

"Really?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah. Strangest thing."

"Awe, he is so cute!"

We went through family pictures, and she promised me that she would dig out some family videos with Tucker's old baseball games and his first steps on them.

At dinner, we all sat down where our name cards were placed. My wine glass kept getting replenished as we said "Grace" and started our two hour meal. Yes, two hour meal.

"This is the part in the evening where everyone regrets how much they ate. You can hear the women talking about diets and how they ate too much..."

Sure enough, we turned towards his aunts who were counting calories.

"Well, apple pie counts as a fruit, right?"

"To the left, we have the men, watching an old recording of football. They will all be successfully put to sleep, thanks to the turkey, in less than three minutes." We looked over towards to the television. "As you can see," he whispered, "some of them already are." I giggled. "Please note the unfastened top buttons of their waistbands."

"Does this happen every year?"

"Yes it does."

"It is kind of nice."

He laughed and looked into my eyes. "Want to get out of here?"

"Oh, yes. I've been drinking wine all day. We should leave before I say anything stupid."

"Or take your clothes off?"

I choked on the sip I was currently taking. "What?"

"It was a joke. I was going to say that's been my experience. It was just a joke, I swear."

I glared at him, then laughed. "You were nervous for a minute."

We bid our goodbyes to the family and promised to see them at the wedding.

We got home, and his experience came true, if you know what I mean.