Merriton

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Kit Kat wanted to bring a bottle of wine, but she had forgotten how strict the liquor laws were here. Back in New York, she would have been able to pick up a bottle at the grocery store on the way, but in Merriton, wine was only sold in liquor stores. The closest liquor store was halfway between Emigration and Up North. She handed Dora a bottle of sparkling cider instead.

Dora looked at the bottle. “Oh, fancy!” Roscoe’s towering frame came up to her and gave her a one-armed hug. “Hope you don’t mind, but we have Samson here, too. He got snowed in.” When Roscoe released her, she saw the short ranger standing awkwardly behind the two of them. His hair was neatly braided down the back of his simple golf shirt. He said, “I was going to go home for Thanksgiving, but they closed the airport Up North.”

Dora laughed, “Yeah, he usually goes home and eats his grandma’s cooking for Thanksgiving. She was going to cook him, what was it, Samson?” The small man had dark brown skin, but the tell-tale raccoon eyes from skiing with goggles had yellowing skin. For a moment, Kit Kat wondered if he had hepatitis. “Red pork. That’s what she usually makes for Thanksgiving.”

Kit Kat imagined slow roasted pork with rice and beans, thinking it must be a Native American dish that she had never heard of. In fact, corn was the only food that she could name as Native American. She scolded herself for her ignorance of such an important part of American culture and vowed that she would look all that up on Wikipedia when she got home.

She could smell the turkey. When was the last time she had eaten a turkey on Thanksgiving? She couldn’t remember. She and Dave had Chinese takeout last year. How strange was Samson’s grandmother making red pork for Thanksgiving when she and Dave could hardly be bothered with feeding themselves on the holiday? She blushed with the memory of it and followed Dora, Roscoe and Samson into the kitchen.

“Gotta let it sit for ‘bout fifteen more minutes before I can carve it.” Roscoe pointed at a large pan covered with aluminum foil. “It gets all dry if we cut it too early. Learned that one the hard way.” He winked at Dora and the two of them exchanged a flirtatious smile. Kit Kat felt the envy stir within her. She and Dave had never learned how to properly cook or carve a turkey. It was as if her entire marriage to him was a detour to adulthood. They had stayed teenagers crashing in an apartment instead of becoming grown ups like they were supposed to.

“I’ve never cooked a turkey,” Samson replied and Kit Kat faced him. “Neither have I. Dave and I had General Tso’s Chicken for Thanksgiving last year.” The little ranger laughed and looked at Dora and Roscoe. “Sounds perfect. I highly recommend anything with the name Tso.” He said it with a flirt in his eye and she crinkled her brow at him, confused.

Roscoe, however, was not amused with Samson’s comment. “Speaking of which, what did John Sebastian say when you told ‘im that it wasn’t polite to call dibs on you?” Kit Kat felt a little dizzy at the change of subject. “Um, he just said something about Samson being a hero and he didn’t want to compete with that.” Dora nodded, “Yes, Samson IS the hero of Merriton. Did he tell you about the avalanche?” Kit Kat shook her head and turned toward the guy for an explanation, but he changed the subject again. “So, John says he knew you in high school. Do you remember him?”

Roscoe lifted the foil off the turkey just a tad and sniffed at it, but replaced it and looked at the timer counting down on the microwave. Kit Kat watched the seconds tick away. “I remember that he was always with A.S.” The three of them laughed and Samson looked at her strangely. Roscoe whispered, “The way those two used to make out in the hallways between classes, I was surprised that they got married in the temple.” Dora smiled crookedly, “Easy enough to lie to the bishop.”

Samson queried, “Lie?” Dora placed her hand on his forearm, “Oh, I forgot, you don’t know about all that stuff. You can’t get married in the LDS Temple if you’ve been sexually active, even if it’s with the woman you’re going to marry. You both have to repent and then stay clean for a full year before you can be married in the temple.” Kit Kat watched him nod uncomfortably.

She had forgotten how pervasive the LDS church was and, at the same time, was surprised that he didn’t know after living here for so long. Mira moved away YEARS ago, so he must have lived in Merriton for long enough to know about all the idiosyncrasies of the LDS church. She crinkled her brow at the thought of it and wondered at his story. Maybe Mira was right. Maybe he had never dated her and had confused her with someone else in Merriton.

“When did you move here, Samson?” He smiled and a red spot on his forehead the size of a thumb mark appeared, “Well, Random moved here back in June of 2007. Then I got canned from my job and moved in with him and Sierra in October. Hated that house, though, so I moved in with the Thunder Brothers not too long after that. When was it?” He asked the air, but Roscoe answered, “You were only workin’ for me winter months back then. I think it was February, ‘cause you were startin’ to get nervous about what you were going to do in the summer. ‘Member?”

So there was no way he dated Mira. She had already moved to San Francisco by 2007. “Oh yeah, you’re right. But then Ricky died that summer, so I moved over to Emigration after I bought the house… your parents’ house, that is…” Kit Kat had forgotten about that. “Wait, did you date my sister when you bought the house?”

Samson backed away from her in disgust. “No! God, no! I’d never do something like that. She was married by then.” Roscoe removed the foil from the turkey. Its golden skin was glistening with fat and Kit Kat’s mouth watered. She hadn’t eaten for three days in an effort to get her stomach to calm down and to prevent a gastric incident when she came to her old friend’s house. She was literally starving and the turkey smelled so good. Roscoe replied as he cut into the huge bird, “That’s not what I hear. James said you visited Mira in your ranger’s uniform BEFORE Ricky died. I remember, ‘cause I was worried that you’d be on Ricky’s side if he started…”

Dora slapped Roscoe on the arm and pointed to Kit Kat. The huge ranger blushed and wiped his forehead with his wrist, knife still in hand. “Sorry, Kit Kat. Sometimes I forget Ricky was your brother.” She nodded. Ricky had been dead for nearly three years now. She had always expected him to die young and had been surprised that he survived jail. She had no illusions about the kind of person her brother had been, but it still hurt to think about him being gone.

Samson broke the silence among them, “Curly did a good job on his eulogy.” The four of them nodded and all they could hear was the knife gently cutting apart the turkey.