Emerson: Her Very Soul Thanksgiving Day

“TUR-KEY,” I SAID AGAIN, LOOKING down at Carter, the giant bow I kept trying to make her wear sliding down her wispy baby hair for the umpteenth time.

“Tur-tey,” she repeated, her face scrunched in concentration.

I grinned down at her, scrunching my nose back, not even worrying about the Botox I was going to have to get from constantly mimicking her sweet expressions.

I handed Carter another tiny piece of turkey off the stove and pinched a bit of cookie dough off one of the perfect rolls on the marble counter and popped it in my mouth.

“Emerson Murphy!” Mom scolded, walking into Jack’s kitchen, her signature shirtwaist dress swishing at her ankles.

Ugh. Just like when we were children. That woman was everywhere.

“You’re going to get salmonella poisoning,” she said as I mouthed the words to Carter at the same time.

She crossed her arms. “Well, if you know what I’m going to say, why don’t you listen?” Then she leaned down and picked up Carter. “Your mommy doesn’t listen.”

“No!” Carter said.

“You don’t have to gang up on me. It isn’t nice.” I grinned at them, taking in the smaller but still beautifully gleaming white kitchen Mom had created at Jack’s. It was certainly different having Thanksgiving at his house—well, I guess Mom’s and Jack’s now—but I was getting used to it. I was getting used to the idea that Mom was married to someone who wasn’t Dad. I was even getting used to the fact that he was the long-lost sperm donor my parents had used to get pregnant with my two sisters after fertility treatments failed, that they got a replacement dad and I didn’t.

Jack entered the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his blue checked oxford tucked into his khakis. He ran his hand through his damp salt-and-pepper hair. “Hey there, Starlet. It smells awfully good in here!” Fresh from the shower, Jack added a clean Dove-body-wash scent to the turkey smell.

“Turtey!” Carter announced joyfully, throwing her fists into the air.

“That’s right!” Jack said, squeezing her chubby leg. I would miss the stage where she could wear her cute little bubble outfits with her chunky thighs hanging out. It was still in the high sixties here, basically the same as LA, so she could get away with it. New York in the winter was going to be a rude awakening for all of us. Even though I loved seeing my family, I wasn’t looking forward to the cold. But what I hadn’t told my sister is that I wasn’t just coming to see the windows decorated for Christmas and the Rockettes: I was auditioning for a starring role on Broadway. The mere idea gave me chills. I had worked my entire life for this.

And, pinching more cookie dough, I realized how delightful it was to be able to gain five pounds and not have it evident to everyone behind the camera. The stage was much more forgiving—especially when you were playing the role of a young Queen Victoria and wearing dresses that hid literally everything. I could be nine months pregnant if I wanted to… I grinned down at Carter, at how big she was getting. Something to consider, for sure. As if on cue, Kyle walked in, kissing us both quickly.

Jack picked up the silver carving knife and fork and rubbed them together. “Is it time for my big moment?”

“Are you ready?” I asked him. “This is do or die. Make or break. No pressure.”

Kyle reached over and tore off a huge hunk of turkey. “Break a leg!”

That man loved a pun. I loved him anyway.

I walked out onto the front porch, where Sloane and Caroline were fussing over flowers and candles. Jack’s house didn’t have a dining room big enough to hold all his guests—again, I didn’t know why we weren’t just doing it at Mom’s, but I had the feeling that she didn’t trust Sloane to clean and organize to her exacting standards. But I loved eating outside and having all of our family and friends gathered around one big table, so I didn’t mind the change.

“Em, can you be in charge of cocktails when everyone gets here, please?” asked Caroline, the party general. I saluted.

I agreed so willingly because Kyle was an ace with the drinks. I would just get him to do it. The first time we met, he actually invented a drink for me called the Starlite Starlet. He was the perfect man, the perfect partner, the most supportive human on the planet—and so laid-back. I was so grateful for his willingness to help me live out my dream always—but especially on Thanksgiving.

“Where’s Viv?” I asked Caroline, who rolled her eyes and shook her head.

I laughed. “Yeah. Forget the terrible twos. The terrible teens seem pretty rough.” Even so, she was my niece. My favorite niece. Okay, my only niece. But still. “I’ll go find her.”

I walked back inside and up the stairs. Below, I could hear Keith’s voice and Kyle’s whoops as he greeted his cousin. Hippie Hal’s voice was unmistakable as well. I smiled, remembering these voices that had all played such an important role in the story of my life. It really was the most wonderful time of the year.

I knocked halfheartedly on the door before I opened it. The sun pouring through the windows was so bright, it made me squint. The walls were a pale warm gray with the tiniest hint of lavender, and the iridescent abalone-shell chandelier hanging above the bed was such a focal point. It was too gorgeous a room for anyone inside it to be so irritable. Vivi was lying in her bed, scrolling through her phone, still in her jeans. “Get up!” I said cheerily. “Everyone is here and waiting for you.”

“Why do we have to have all these randos at our special day?” she asked sulkily.

“Because these ‘randos’ are friends so good and so close that they are family. And, as I recall, a few years ago all you wanted, more than anything, was to move to Peachtree Bluff. It was the birthday gift that you absolutely had to have.”

“Hm,” she said.

“Whatever. But I’m wearing this.” I crossed my arms. Then I turned, opened her closet, and pulled out the first dress I saw. “Nope. You’re wearing this.”

“Why are you being like this?” she asked, giving me the eye that I knew Caroline got about thirty-seven times a day.

“Look,” I said, sitting down on her bed. “I know it has been tough for your parents to get divorced. I get it. But their being together and unhappy couldn’t have been a picnic either.”

She cocked her head as if considering this.

“Your mom is my big sister, the protector of all. But after what I saw this morning—after what she has told me about what’s been going down lately—I think she might need a little protecting herself. Her heart is breaking already because of your dad, and now it’s breaking a million times more because of you. So quit sulking, put the damn dress on, and pretend for one dinner that you still have some manners.”

I smiled brightly at her.

“But you and Mom don’t understand,” she said. “You’ve never dealt with this before.”

I knew Caroline walked a really thin, tight line with Vivi, but I didn’t have to. I was the aunt, and this aunt was incredulous. “I’m sorry. Is that a joke? Our father died. Yours moved downstairs. Our father was killed, probably slowly and painfully, in our country’s worst tragedy. So forgive me if I don’t bow down at your altar of pity here and spray my sympathies on you. A divorce is a big change. It’s hard. I get that. But you get to have both your parents. They get to see you be this hateful fifteen-year-old. I never got that. So don’t tell me that your mom and I don’t understand what it’s like to have your world rocked.”

She didn’t hug my neck and say, Aunt Emmy! You’re so right! You’re a genius! But she did get up and put the dress on, which I considered a giant win. Before we left the room, she said quietly, “I actually never thought of that.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Teenagers, as a species, are selfish assholes. But there’s no excuse for treating your mom the way you do. She has sacrificed everything—including her happiness, her very soul—for you on more occasions than you will ever know. So maybe you could give her fewer reasons to call the police.”

She gave me a half smile, and I put my arm around her. And, well, I couldn’t help but think that what goes around, comes around. Because my sister Caroline had probably been the most difficult teenager to ever walk the face of the earth.

“What are you doing when you sneak out, anyway?” I asked, partially to get the scoop for Caroline and partially because I missed being young and on the verge of my whole future and was a little jealous. But doing something yourself when you’re young and stupid is totally different from growing up and realizing how dangerous those young, foolish actions could be. I worried about Vivi.

“Well, my friends and I usually just hang out. Or we go to a party or something.” She shrugged like it was nothing, but I could tell from her smile it was fun.

“You have to be careful, Vivi. You could get hurt.” I stopped and looked at her seriously. “You aren’t drinking or doing drugs or anything, are you?” My pulse started pounding at the thought.

She shook her head so vehemently I believed her. “I’m not smoking either,” she said, pointing at her boobs, which, depressingly, were already bigger than mine.

We both collapsed against the hallway wall in laughter. Three years ago, I had caught Vivi and a friend trying to smoke a cigarette. I told them that if they smoked, they’d never get boobs. Now I clutched my chest, gasping for air. “You remembered! My aunt wisdom got in there somewhere!”

We composed ourselves and made our way down the stairs. She was still in there, my sweet little niece. And I felt like the laughter had been just as important as the talk.

We all sat down in chairs that ran the length of Jack’s front porch. Mom had covered a row of plain plastic folding tables with antique linen tablecloths. Topped with her china, silver, crystal, and beautiful blooms from her backyard, it was absolutely exquisite. The view of the sound and Starlite Island across from it was the icing on the cake.

Caroline, assessing her happy, well-dressed daughter, shot me an impressed smile. Kyle held my hand—Carter on his lap—and, surrounded by all the people I loved most in the world, I couldn’t help but remember how lucky I was. I had grown up with something so traditional, so by the book. I had spent years in Hollywood, a world of independence and convention bucking, and had convinced myself that I should buck convention too. But as I looked at the kindest, most handsome man I’d ever known—and the beautiful girl on his lap—it occurred to me that I wanted more of it: more traditions, more family, more children. So maybe it wouldn’t be the worst time to finally get a husband too.