David’s new place is nicely furnished but strewn with empty boxes, medical jackets and textbooks. Dressed in pajamas and eating cereal, David stands staring at the television set. He listens as a male newscaster wraps up the national news.
“And that’s our nine a. m. national roundup for Turkey Day. – Marsha.”
A woman newscaster talks as a picture of Jesse, in his dress blue Air Force uniform, fills the screen.
“Thanks, John. Locally, there remains no new word on the fate of kidnap victim Colonel Jesse Houston, whose brother lives here in Atlanta. So far, we have been unable to contact Colonel Houston’s brother and the F.B.I. has no comment. – Now for our weath-.”
David turns off the TV. He sighs and absentmindedly straightens a few belongings as he heads for the kitchen, where he gets a second wind and turns on his telephone answering machine. A message awaits.
“David, this is Mom. Now, David, clean out the innards of that turkey, then clean the bird thoroughly, and I mean thoroughly. Josiah’s mother’s aunt told her that she knew a family who all got, well, some kind of, I guess, turkey poisoning from not having– ”
David turns off the machine. He looks at a large wall clock that reads 9:10 A.M.
David says to himself, “... and miles to go before I sleep.”
He opens a pantry, retrieving the potatoes, along with some aluminum foil. He takes the turkey from the fridge and starts to place it in the sink. But the sink is full of pots and dishes. David finally puts the bird on the counter and begins loading the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. Looking at the time, he begins to hurry.
“O, Lordy. O, Lordy. Four o’clock is gonna come real soon. I’d better get started.”