Giving Thanks for Lingerie

"Yep-yep," I said. "Find a mate, get married, buy a house, and then make some babies. It's what we're designed to do." Before Erica could respond, I added, "You know, I can definitely see you making a great manager."

Erica gave me a look like she couldn't quite believe my compliment. "Oh yeah? Why?"

"Because you've been quite content to supervise me the whole time you've been out here." Erica laughed warmly. "Go get some leaf bags and help me bag up these leaves."

* * * *

After Erica and I had bagged the leaves, we went in. She got sucked into helping with the Thanksgiving meal. We were going to have a late lunch of turkey and all the trimmings. The three husbands and I resumed playing Hearts.

Then it was time for the feast. William made a beeline for the front of the line. I grabbed him and pulled him back. "We're going last."

"But..."

"We're the clean-up crew. We can have as much as we want, and we won't hurt anyone's feelings."

"Well, okay," said William in a tone that implied he was only partially convinced that going last was a good idea. Mom gave me a grateful look.

Uncle Steve was in line with a plate and asked me, "So tell us about your most interesting patient so far."

"'Client' is the term therapists use. We aren't medical doctors diagnosing someone's illness."

"So, tell us about your most interesting client so far," said Uncle Steve in a slightly annoyed tone as he started down the food line.

"I can talk about my clients in general, but I don't like trying to determine on the fly how much information I can say and still be general. So instead, let me tell you about them in general. Most of my clients are someone whose spouse or parent or boss or HR department has told them that they need to spend some time in therapy. They pick drama therapy because it sounds kind of fun. So I have to make it fun for them or else they'll quit and say, 'Therapy didn't work for me'. It takes a long time for the client to change from participating in any kind of therapy, so it's critical that I keep them from quitting too early."

I looked around the room, and everyone was paying close attention to me. "The next biggest group is people who are okay but want help to be even better. I love this type of client. They are very open to what I'm trying to get them to do. But sadly, they are less likely to get results than the first group as they either coast or have some deep, massive problem that they've learned to cover up well that's really hard to address. The first group, because they are in crisis, usually see lasting improvement quickly."

Everyone appeared to be enjoying me discussing my clients, so I continued. "The last group that I want to talk about is small but not insignificant, and they're people I never expected to provide therapy to. They are women in their thirties or forties who are living the American dream. They are well-educated, financially very successful, highly respected, married to a loving husband, and have two point three kids, all of whom are amazing. And several times a week, they start drinking and can't stop until they are sloshed. Or succumb to some other addiction. They come to drama therapy because they can't admit to their friends that they are in therapy, so they tell them they are taking a drama class. They are a trip to work with because they want a timeline for when they'll achieve certain goals, they want me to assign them homework, and they want me to come to their house for one-on-one sessions. They are very driven and task-oriented, which is how they've gotten everything else in their life, and can't see that that approach won't get them to happiness."

Aunt Nicole asked, "Are you able to help them?"

I felt frustration flowing through me. "Very little. You have to understand that people are like icebergs in that what is visible as an issue is only the tiny tip of their dysfunctionality. They want me to stop their out-of-control drinking. What they really want is a weekend seminar that will transform how they feel about themselves, without changing how they live. What I do is teach them a process for releasing pent-up emotions and achieving more self-awareness. I have no idea how that will impact them. It may not stop their drinking, but it might make them enjoy being a mom more."

Uncle Grant said, "They don't sound pleasant to deal with."

I shook my head. "They are the warmest, funniest people. Whip-smart. An absolute joy to talk to. When we do improvisational scenes, they'll crack their groups up. They are such a challenge to help as the only problem they seem to have is that they're miserable."

Aunt Rose asked, "Are you over Hailey and ready to start dating again?"

"I'll never truly be over Hailey. I'll always occasionally think about her. I still think occasionally about girls from high school. When Hailey and I broke up, I had some anger and a whole lot of grief that I needed to process. Now, most of the anger and grief are gone, and what I mainly feel is loneliness. But as Hailey and I broke up over money, I can't help feeling that I should wait until I'm a little more financially sound before I start dating again."

Uncle Steve said, "Only date for fun."

"I'm thinking of that. Brush up on my social skills while I'm searching for Ms. Right."

I was being polite. I spent all day talking with people. I've been trained to pick up on the littlest cues people give. This whole family gathering, I had been noticing power dynamics, relationship triangles, where people choose to stand/sit, facial reactions, body movements, and even things like how certain people affect the vibe. But no one came here for me to be their therapist. Similarly, no one came here for me to ruminate on the deeper problems in my relationship with Hailey like the dysfunctional communication, the underlying attachment issues, the lack of spontaneity in our sex life, and her wanderlust. I've found that people have a much better time around me when I play dumb.

When the parents didn't say anything more, I moved on to the Kids Table in the living room. The Kids Table was a folding card table that Dad had pulled out. William and Alexa were already seated, and Erica was right behind me with her food. As we ate, William spent half his time with his neck twisted to watch the football game that was on the TV. Alexa, Erica, and I didn't say much for a while, until I tossed out what I hoped would be a conversation starter. "I'm in a new apartment, and I'm torn. Should I spend a lot of money decorating it? Show off to potential girlfriends that I'm a somewhat successful professional? But if the girlfriend moves in, she'll probably want to redecorate. Or if I move into her apartment, I'll have to sell almost everything in my apartment. What do you think I should do?"

Alexa and Erica offered suggestions. To my surprise, Alexa gave me a lot of great advice on how to decorate my apartment with a minimum amount of furniture while having it still attractive. "Get a shelving unit that is lots of squares. Have the first square be a picture of you and your family when you were a kid and have each ensuing square tell another chapter in your life. That kind of shelving unit isn't very expensive and is easily reused if you move in with someone later." We then discussed ideas for what each of my squares would be. It was a surprisingly enjoyable conversation.

After we had all stuffed ourselves silly and then stuffed ourselves even more with dessert, we all collapsed in the living room and watched the football game. Tryptophan soon worked its magic, and people nodded off. I went up to the office and laid down. I felt like a python that had swallowed an antelope. I quickly drifted off to sleep.

* * * *

Much later that afternoon, I was again raking leaves in the backyard. Erica came out to join me. "What are you doing out here?"

"I love my family. I really do. But I feel like I need to pace myself in terms of spending time with them. Four full days with them is overwhelming for me."

"I understand. Do you want me to go back inside?"

"No. You're fine. Actually, it's nice talking with you. It's the rest of the family that I feel like I have to work extra hard to keep the conversation flowing, and I don't want to wear myself out."

Erica started bagging up the raked leaves. "So, what were you thinking about before I came out here?"

"What do all young men think about? Baseball." Erica laughed. "Or is that what we think about in the spring? I can't remember."

"Do you even know who played in the World Series?"

I hung my head a little. "No. No idea at all."

"Okay. So, what were you really thinking about?"

"I was thinking about growing a beard. Now, that I've broken up with Hailey, I could try a new look."

"Didn't you have a beard before?"

"When I was in grad school. I thought it'd make me look more intelligent and sophisticated. I don't think it did, as I didn't have a serious girlfriend during grad school. But this time, I'm thinking of going for the bad boy look. I hear that drives professional women wild." Erica rolled her eyes. "Or maybe I'll do the mustache and goatee combo."

"For the evil therapist look?"

I laughed. "Yeah. Probably a bad idea." I stopped raking and leaned on the rake. "What do you think? Would I look better with a beard and mustache like Aaron?"

"Aaron never trims his beard on his own. He always waits until I tell him he needs to trim it. It's so annoying."

I was surprised by the sudden change in topic. "What's the big deal about that? Does he complain or pout when you tell him to trim it?"

"No. It's just...I didn't sign up to be his beard monitor," said Erica with her voice full of frustration. "He can tell when it needs trimming. He should take care of trimming on his own."

"Then don't tell him. Let him notice it needs trimming and take action on his own."

"I tried that. And he let it get more and more unkempt. I feel he wouldn't do anything about his beard without me prodding him. He needs me to prod him on lots of different issues, not just his beard. And I'm getting tired of always having to prod him."

"Don't prod him. I think the 'wild man who just put his finger in a light socket' look would suit him well."

Erica frowned at me. "You know, you don't act like a therapist."

"You're right," I said brightly. "Therapists are notoriously bad at acting. Can't put any zing into their lines. Not good at emoting either. With a BA in Theater, I should act far better."

Erica put her hand on her hip and said, "You know what I meant." She waited for me to give a better answer. I declined the opportunity by continuing raking. Erica broke the silence by asking, "Do you have a tattoo?"

"Ah...no." I resumed raking. "I thought a lot about getting one. In undergrad, having a tattoo could be a problem for some roles. The director might not want to risk that I could consistently cover it with makeup."

"You could have gotten one where it wasn't visible."

"What's the point of that? If you're going to get a tattoo, I think you should proudly display it." I raked a couple of times. "The summer after I graduated, I was making decent money as a mover. I was thinking of getting a tattoo at the end of the summer once I had some money saved up. But then William got his 'ROLL TIDE' tattoo. That made me rethink getting a tattoo. Everyone in the family would say I got it because William got one. Did I want to be like William? No, I didn't. When William got the Alabama elephant tattooed on his other shoulder, I thought it looked ridiculous and didn't consider getting a tattoo again."

Erica smirked at me. "No point in growing a beard and mustache then. You'll always be a bad boy wannabe. Real bad boys have tattoos."

I stopped raking for long enough to say, "You have a point there."

"I should know. Aaron is the first guy I've dated since senior year in high school to not have a tattoo."

"Is Aaron a bad boy wannabe with his beard, mustache, and no tattoo?"

"No, because he's not trying to look like a bad boy. He's trying for the bohemian intellectual look, and I think he nails it."

I was glad to hear Erica say something positive about Aaron. "Particularly with the tweed jacket and the tweed driving cap."

"Yeah. I thought he looked very nice yesterday." Erica scooped up some leaves and put them into the yard waste bag. "I have a tattoo."

That shocked me. "You do?"

"Yes."

"Show me." I had never seen a tattoo on her.

Erica gave me a smirk. "It's someplace only Aaron gets to see."

"When did you get it?"

"In college. I was dating a bad boy, and we got matching tattoos."

"Do Mom and Dad know?"

"No. And you better not tell them."

I made a zipping gesture over my lips. "My lips are sealed."

* * * *

That night, Mom made her turkey salad. It was like an upscale chicken salad with grapes, almonds, green onions, and celery, but with turkey white meat. For dinner, we had turkey salad sandwiches and Thanksgiving leftovers. After dinner, the parents remained at the table and talked. Erica and I pulled up chairs to the corner of the tables and joined them, though I didn't say very much.

Much later, that group broke up, and the parents headed toward bed. Erica signaled for me to stay behind. She served herself a cup of coffee and had us sit down at the bar.

I asked, "How do you sleep after drinking that much caffeine?"

Erica chuckled. "My body is used to it. I keep my caffeine level high all day. You never learned to drink coffee?"

"No. I drank a lot of soda in college. In grad school, I started putting on weight, so that was an easy source of calories to cut out. Now, I drink beer at parties, wine at nice dinners, and water the rest of the time."

"Probably wise." Erica took a sip. "You were very quiet tonight. That's unlike you."

"I...uh. People were talking about shopping tomorrow, and it hit me that I had no one to shop for this year."

"You've got me, Mom, and Dad."

"Mom and Dad I've already got planned out. This weekend, I'll have someone take a group portrait of the four of us. I'll get an 8.5 by 11-inch print of it, have it framed, and give it to them with a bottle of wine. I think they'll be thrilled."

"Damn. That does sound like a good idea."

"Wine is always a good idea." I winked. "It's a great gift because I can give it every year. But I can't give you wine this year," as Aaron didn't drink and Erica only drank now when she was out without Aaron, "so I'm stuck. What do you want?"

"I...err. I haven't really thought about it," said Erica. I rolled my eyes. "Let me look around tomorrow for something I'd like."

"I'm warning you that right now, you're getting the best non-alcoholic repeatable gift idea I could come up with - a box of each size of Ziplocs and two rolls of paper towels." Erica gave me a don't-you-dare look while chuckling. "It'll be nicely gift-wrapped." She laughed.

I thought about going to bed, but Erica seemed to want to talk more. I said, "I wish I could say that I was excited about going shopping on the day after Thanksgiving because it'd be the first time I'd hear Christmas music in the stores, but I've been hearing Christmas music for weeks now."

"I know what you mean."

"At the beginning of September, I was in a store, and they had all their Halloween candy out. There's zero chance of any Halloween candy I'm buying at the beginning of September makes it to Halloween."

"Aaron and I ate all of my initial buy of Halloween candy."

I made a fist and waved it around. "I showed them for putting out their Halloween candy so ridiculously early. I bought only one bag."

Erica chuckled. "You did show them." Her face turned more serious as she asked, "How is your rent-a-dungeon-master business doing?"

"It's doing fine. And I continue to make good money at it." I sighed. "It's funny - for a long time, considering what I paid for office space and professional expenses, I cleared a lot more providing dungeon master services than I did being a drama therapist. Running D&D campaigns still provides a big chunk of my income. However, people always give me a you-must-be-a-weirdo look whenever I tell them that I'm a professional dungeon master. I get judging looks when I tell people I'm a drama therapist, but nothing as harsh as when I tell them I dungeon master."

"You have to admit, it's unusual."

"Drama therapist is unusual too, but it doesn't get the same strong negative reaction." I raised my hand. "I don't like discussing it." I started to get up. "Time for bed."

"Stay. I'm not sleepy yet."

I rolled my eyes and sat back down. "You might be sleepy if you didn't drink that much caffeine."

"Or I might not be sleepy because I want to talk to my brother, who I haven't talked to much in a while. I'm thinking of going for a jog tomorrow morning. Burn off some of the Thanksgiving calories. Join me?"

"I didn't bring any jogging clothes."

"Neither did I. I won't be jogging very fast. More to get out and see the old neighborhood."

"Okay." I thought about getting some water to drink but didn't want to commit to spending that much more time up. "What's Aaron getting you for Christmas?"

"I don't know. I'll probably order something online and have him give it to me." Erica said that like she was fine with that, but I couldn't help hearing a hint of annoyance.

"Do you guys have a standard gift you give each other? A memento of your first date or something?"

"No. Did you and Hailey have a standard gift you gave each other?"

"I always gave her lingerie and something else. Lingerie was a gift I gave her that I also enjoyed."

"Let me guess. She modeled it for you, and then you took it off her and fucked her silly."

"Why do you always think about sex?" I said, mimicking Erica's tone from when she told me that earlier.

Erica rolled her eyes.

"Yes, she'd model it for me," I said. "And I'd tell her how sexy and beautiful she looked in it. But we wouldn't have sex afterward."

"You wouldn't?" said Erica as she gave me a disbelieving look. "Your girlfriend is wearing this sexy lingerie, and you wouldn't try to persuade her to hop into bed?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I can't think of any time we made love after she wore sexy lingerie. On a lot of Fridays and Saturdays, she'd put on nice lingerie and a sexy dress, and we'd go out to a concert or a party or a club. When we got home, she'd change into a nightshirt and cotton panties, and we'd go to bed."

Erica continued looking at me disbelieving.

"Let's get up decently early, have breakfast, and go for a jog," I said before standing up. "Goodnight."

* * * *

The next morning, a tap on the door to the office woke me. I got up, dressed with the warmest clothes I had brought, went downstairs, and found my sister, to my non-surprise, drinking coffee. I got myself some water, and, once we had polished off our drinks, we went to the closet by the front door and got caps and gloves. We then went outside and started walking briskly.

Erica said, "It's cold this morning."

I gave her a dubious look. "You were expecting something different for an early morning in late fall?"

"Well, no..."

"Actually, it's the perfect temperature for a brisk morning jog. It makes you want to go fast enough to warm yourself up." I increased my pace. "Look over there. They cut down the big tree that was always in their front yard."

"You're right. It makes the house look a lot different."

"It was a nice tree. I'm sad that it's gone."

Erica pointed to another yard. "Look at all the leaves in that yard. I'm glad they are there and not in Mom and Dad's yard."

"Maybe the homeowner is hoping we'll get a good breeze today, and they'll all blow down to Mom and Dad's."

"They better not!" Erica said brightly. "You seem in a better mood this morning."