My mother and dad split when I was little, so I always celebrated thanksgiving with my mom. Looking back, I know that she tried but it’s obvious now how little she could afford. Wed start the day with a thanksgiving day service at church and I’d run around the playground with my friends, until it was time to go. We’d make a stop at my dads house for lunch, my parents were in good terms so we all ate together. To be honest it was always the one meal I looked forward to every year. It was the only time I felt like I had a normal family. After lunch we’d go back home and clean up. Even though we were eating frozen food, my mom really made it feel like thanksgiving. She’d set the table with silverware, light some dollar store candles and line the table with the same cheap red table cloth every year. We’d eat around 6 and that was it. We’d all split off and do our own thing.
It started when I was in the 5th grade. After dinner that year, my mom went to her room. Which was strange because typically we’d spend at least an hour or two binge watching charmed. She went to her room and went to be around 7. I just figured she wasn’t feeling well so I went to my room and played Minecraft all night. I went to bed at midnight, but was woken up by the sound of quiet sobs through the wall that separated our rooms. I got closer and the sobs got louder and louder. She started muttering my dads name. I decided to go comfort her, but that’s when she began screaming. I ran to her door but it was locked. I got my sister from the porch and we unlocked the door to find her sound asleep in bed, as if she’d been lying there for hours. I woke her up and asked her what was wrong. She just laughed gently and hugged me. She said something I’ll never forget. “You’re mine, not his.” Then she told me to turn off the light and let her go back to sleep. So I did. The next day I asked her what she meant by what she said and she looked puzzled, and said she didn’t remember us even waking her up. It plagued me for days, but by Christmas I’d completely forgotten about it.
When I got to high school, my mom had married a real estate agent. Let’s call him Phil. Phil was nice enough, the stereotypical step father who always stayed distant for fear of overstepping some boundaries. For my mom though, Phil was the best thing that had happened to her in a long time. He moved her into a nicer area with a beautiful home. By now I’d gotten my learners permit and had started staying with my dad more than before. I had gone from seeing him every other weekend to living with him for the better part of the month. The main reason was because my dad lived substantially closer to my school I had talked to my mom about it, and while she definitely seemed upset she said she understood. Looking back, the look in her eyes should’ve told me otherwise.
That year for the first time thanksgiving dinner felt a lot more like other families. A fresh turkey, more sides than we could fit into our fridge at the end of the night, and now with Phil’s side of the family we had to bring out a second table. At the end of the night everyone got a little too drunk, so I went to bed early hoping not to have a hangover the next day. I know I know, 9th grade is too young to be drinking, but what can I say. I had an awesome mom.
I woke up that night to the sound of screaming coming from my moms room. We didn’t even sleep on the same floor anymore, but I could still hear her. I went to my sisters room to get her to come with me, but her door was locked. I decided to go to her room alone. What should I be afraid of?
This time her door wasn’t locked. It was cracked open, and what I saw still creeps me out. My mom was standing at the fit of her bed, staring at Phil. Her arms were at her sides, but they looked…longer than usual. Like she’d been hung by her arms for days. They hung down past her knees. Her mouth hung open like she was a snake about to swallow a baby deer. Her mouth wasn’t moving, but I heard a whispering that sounded like her. It was coming from all around, and she was saying a name. My fathers name. I slammed the door and ran back to my room.
I didn’t ask her about it the next day. I didn’t want to know. I was terrified. She was walking around the house hungover like the rest of us. I tried to leave and go to my dads, but before I left she looked at me in the eyes and said “sorry about last night, I must’ve had too much to drink.” I left without saying goodbye and haven’t talked to her since. I haven’t told anyone why, and of course my friends and family think I’m horrible for avoiding her but I just can’t get over what I saw. Even worse, she knows that I saw.
It’s been over a year now, and I decided to have thanksgiving with my dad this year. It was weird to be honest. Thanksgiving has always been such an important holiday for me to spend with my mom. I missed her, but I couldn’t get over what I saw. After dinner that night, I broke out my laptop and started playing Minecraft on it. I was falling asleep when I started to hear a faint crying. I thought I was imagining it, but it’s sobs got louder and louder until I knew what I was hearing was real and that it was coming from my closet. I looked and saw it cracked with my mother inside, staring at me. Her jaw was down so low it must’ve been dislocated, her eyes as bloodshot as if she’d been staring at me for hours. I yelled at her, asking what the fuck she was doing in my closet. She just stared at me, and as if I was surrounded by whispers, I heard the last words I’d ever hear.
“You’re mine, not his.”