been to the pharmacy in a while. No sickness here. I prided myself on taking care of my health. “Just picked up another refill.” Jerry stepped into the room. I smiled seeing him. Forty-five years of marriage will do that. Was it forty-five? His once jet-black hair had grayed, but he still pulled it off. He set a white paper bag down on the counter, softly rattling the pills inside. “What’s that for?” I asked. “You know what it is, honey.” He strained to say honey as if I had asked him the same question
“What’s wrong, Jerry?” “Just take this,” he said, pulling out a yellow bottle of pills. He untwisted the lid and gently shook one pill out into his hand. Then he grabbed a glass from the cabinet. “What are you doing?” He filled the glass up with water. “Just take this, honey. Then we can talk.” “I’m not going to take something I don’t need. What’s it for?” “It’s for your mind, Madi. It’s to help you remember.” Remember? I didn’t need any help remembering. If anything, Jer-
I smiled seeing him. Forty-five years of marriage will do that. Was it forty-five? before. “Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll just ask Michael later. He always knows the secrets you’re holding onto.” I chuckled, turning back to the oven. The turkey was definitely ready now. “Michael?” he questioned. “When he comes over for dinner, silly. It’s Thanksgiving.” I shook my head, smiling at how forgetful my husband could be. Jerry sighed loudly. “I’m sorry, Madi. I should have gotten the prescription renewed yesterday. This is my fault.” I turned away from the oven as he put his palm to his forehead.
ry was the one who could use some help. “My mind? Have you been day drinking again Jerry? You need to quit that filthy habit.” “I haven’t had a drink in two years, Madi.” His face was now tight. He took a deep breath and calmed himself before speaking again. “Please just take the pill; it always helps you think.” “Well, I don’t need any help thinking. Michael’s going to hear all about this when he gets back–– you falling off the wagon again. Shameful. On Thanksgiving, too.” I shook my head in disgust. “Thanksgiving? Have you been outside today, Madilyn?”
I shuddered. I hated it when he called me Madilyn. “It’s not ninety degrees outside in November! It’s June for God’s sake!” Maybe it wasn’t Thanksgiving, but I was making turkey and pumpkin pie. It was Thanksgiving alright. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, pulling a joke like this on a holiday. But I’ll be damned if––” “It’s not a joke Madilyn! It’s not Thanksgiving! Michael is not coming to eat with us!” “Why the hell not? Don’t come into my house and start spreading lies you––” “Because he’s dead!” Everything stopped. The oven mitts on my hands fell to the floor. “Our son is dead, Madi.” “No,” I said, shaking. “No, no, no.” “Yes, Madi. He’s been dead for years now. Remember the car crash? He and Ashley both.” Ashley. Michael’s wife. How could I have forgotten about Ashley? Michael. My baby boy. He was gone. The turkey. I forgot about the turkey. “Where are you going?” he asked. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. “I’ve burnt the turkey. Michael’s going to be so disappointed.” “Michael can’t be disappointed, Woodberry Forest School
87
