Time Warp: Turkey Day

[Dr. Sean Neville]

With the noodles drained, Sean crossed to the pantry and pulled out the raisins, so that he could add those to the mixture. He had most everything else out already, as he had wanted to prioritize the noodle kugel so that it could be on the counter cooling before Josh returned home. After finding the raisins, he made quick work of measuring those and adding them to the egg noodles. Next came the sour cream and the cottage cheese. He popped ½ stick of butter in a ceramic bowl and popped it into the microwave on high for thirty seconds. While he waited for that to melt, he measured out ½ cup of sugar and dumped it into the noodle pot.

Truly, he was an expert at cooking for many people during the holidays.

When the microwave beeped, he grabbed the butter, dumped it into the pot, and then retrieved one of the several egg cartons he had bought in anticipation of Thanksgiving. With Josh’s baking and Sean’s sweet tooth, they always had a carton of eggs in the refrigerator, but he had stocked up for the many desserts and side dishes required for the holiday.

“I like your mother’s tradition,” he told her, before cracking an egg into the butter bowl and setting the shell down on the counter. He peered into the bowl, making sure that no errant shell fragments had fallen in, and then he dumped that into the noodle pot. “Josh and I don’t do anything special in the morning, aside from get the kitchen ready.”

Then his partner went off to his parents’ retirement center, and Sean got to work.

“Is there something I can make for you, so this Thanksgiving is a bit more like home?” He cracked the next egg into the bowl, again checking for fragments before adding it to the mixture.

[Marnie Sullivan]

Marnie considered this as she set the peeled apple onto a plate on the counter and moved onto the next one. Nothing immediately came to mind. Foods like mashed potatoes with gravy were so common that they weren't anything special. On the other hand, there wasn't much use in asking for the cranberry-marshmallow-pudding mix either because she didn't know what all was in it. It couldn't be that difficult to make, but without knowing for sure, it wouldn't really be the same.

"...Do you have pumpkin pie?" Marnie asked finally. Her hands paused as she turned to crane her face up to look at Dr. Neville. It had been her first choice once she'd settled on making a pie to bring, until she'd realized that it was also so common that he and Mr. Bernstein would probably have it already. They were waist-deep in pumpkin season, after all. It wasn't pancakes, but it was something.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean made short work of the remaining four eggs: cracking each one individually into the butter bowl, examining quickly to make sure that no stray shell fragments had slipped in with the white and yolk, and then dumping them unceremoniously into the noodle pot. When he finished, he measured in the cinnamon, and then stirred everything with a wooden spoon. The recipe specified using a wooden spoon; he knew that the recipe predated plastic utensils, and, truly, who was he to argue with a recipe that had been passed down through Josh’s mother’s family for a few generations?

The psychiatrist didn’t prompt her for a response. Instead, he grabbed the pan she had greased and brought it over to the sink. Then he poured all of the kugel mixture into the pan, evening it with the back of the spoon.

When she finally supplied an answer, he chuckled lightly. “We have pumpkin pie,” he assured her. “It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie.”

The psychiatrist’s personal preference aside, the proliferation of pumpkin spice and pumpkin-flavored everything into every single food creation from the first day of September (and possibly the end of August) until peppermint season on December 1st began ensured that nobody could have a holiday without pumpkin pie, or a dozen or more other pumpkin treats.

Although Marnie didn’t mention the cranberry pudding concoction, Sean overheard her thoughts regardless. “I don’t shield at home,” he informed her, more as a segue for what he wanted to say next than as a warning, and certainly not as an apology, since he saw no reason to exhaust himself with mental shields in his own home. “So, I have to ask, did you ever watch your mother make that cranberry dessert?”

[Marnie Sullivan]

Shielding - that made sense. Although if he hadn't mentioned it, Marnie wouldn't have assumed he'd pulled the idea of it from her own head. Of the foods she'd described, it was probably the most unusual. 

"Well, no," she began, somewhat embarrassed by the implication that she never helped prepare the big meal at her own house. Marnie had intended to this year, but obviously nothing had come of that. "I know it's not all that complicated - it's basically a layer of jello with lots of cranberries in it, and the top layer is marshmallow fluff instead of regular marshmallows." But Dr. Neville wouldn't have all that here, would he? Whole cranberries were probably a safe bet, but the rest of it she doubted.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean didn’t typically announce when he shielded or when he didn’t. Outside of the house, particularly at work, he shielded to the extent necessary to get through the day without losing his concentration or invading the privacy of everyone in town or at Hammel. However, he always overheard something, typically surface thoughts. He simply found it easier to pretend that he did not, to give others the illusion of privacy in lieu of action privacy.

However his suggestion, if Marnie knew the recipe, necessarily would involve shattering that illusion, and thus he wanted to prepare her. Additionally, she had never been to his house before, and, as a first-time guest, and as a former student, he thought she was entitled to that warning.

But, as she had never seen the dish made, he couldn’t probe her memories (with her permission) to pluck the recipe from the recesses of her mind.

No matter. They could improvise.

“What flavor of Jello? I have some instant mix, and we could cool it with ice rather than hot water.” That would cut the four-hour settling period down to an hour and a half. “We have cranberries, and I can send Josh for marshmallow fluff on his way back home.”

That would be a quick diversion, and he didn’t think that his partner would mind. Not when he explained the reason.

[Marnie Sullivan]

That did make it seem pretty simple, although Marnie was sure she was forgetting something. Some extra touch of familiarity - right now the recipe sounded like a platter of piled sugar. Which, to be fair, was essentially what it was. But that wasn't worth sending anybody to the store for, especially on a holiday.

"You don't have to - Mr. Bernstein doesn't have to," Marnie replied quickly, "it's Thanksgiving, the lines at the store are probably terrible!"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The fact that it sounded like a platter of piled sugar made the recipe all the more appealing to Sean. His sweet tooth was notorious among his family, his friends, and his coworkers, and he felt no need to apologize for that. He ate plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables, he did the jogging and calisthenics with his partner to keep in shape, and his last physical had brought the news that he had both excellent blood pressure and cholesterol for a man his age. Besides, he had cut down on the drinking – and to a lesser extent his coffee intake – and he had to make up for it somewhere.

“There’s a store right near his parents’,” Sean assured her, and that was true. The retirement center where the Matriarch and Patriarch of the Bernstein clan resided had a little neighborhood around it designed for the convenience of the residents (and to capitalize on their business given their reduced mobility). This included a grocery store, a dry cleaner, a pharmacy, and other assorted necessities.

“He can grab it on the way back.” It shouldn’t be too crowded.

With that, he took the kugel dish and put it on the free rack in the oven, setting the secondary timer for when it would finish.

The psychiatrist rinsed his hands off in the sink, and then moved on to the next dish. There was so much to do.

“I want to make this with you,” he informed her with a smile. “It’s Thanksgiving.” And he believed she should have a taste of home.

[Marnie Sullivan]

Since Dr. Neville continued to work as they discussed it, Marnie got back to peeling. Her fingers moved quickly, her eyes trained on the apple with what a bystander might assume was intense focus; in reality, she just wanted to look busy while her thoughts tumbled over themselves. Having just been reminded of his telepathy a moment ago, Marnie was aware that Dr. Neville was probably catching it, but what could she do about it?

I want to make this with you. It's Thanksgiving. And it had very nearly been her first Thanksgiving alone. Marnie could just see herself, in the rental house too big for just one person, watching the parade by herself with pancakes that weren't quite right, and then later microwaving a pizza because there was no point in trying to cook a full Thanksgiving dinner for just one person. And on such short notice, Marnie doubted anybody would have wanted to come over, so she wouldn't have asked.

But instead of that pitiful possibility, she was spending her Thursday in Dr. Neville's kitchen helping to make dinner for everyone. Even without her parents nearby someone was looking out for her. She wasn't just drifting along without notice.

"...Okay," Marnie agreed, beaming at her apple. "But it's a bit weird, it's supposed to be pineapple flavor."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Unbeknownst to Marnie, Sean understood her situation far better than many other people, and it had nothing to do with his telepathy. His estrangement from Kathleen had started at Thanksgiving twelve years ago, after an explosive argument filled with hurtful accusations, resulting from a movie. His house was too big for two people, and he had lived alone for five times as long as he had lived here with Josh. He had started hosting a Thanksgiving supper for friends and those without families entirely because he had too much space and no family willing to take him in for the holiday.

The psychiatrist then grabbed his masher and the potatoes he had already cut up. He always made three different mashed potato dishes to accommodate everyone: one dish without skins, one dish with skins, and one dish of sweet potatoes. Nobody could accuse him of failing to accommodate his guests.

He had begun mashing the skinless potatoes into one bowl when Marnie mentioned the particular flavor. “Pineapple flavor?” He repeated, before setting aside the bowl. “Let me see what I have.”

They had plenty of gelatin, but that was not as common a flavor as strawberry, cherry, or lime.

He crossed the kitchen to the pantry, opening the door and stepping inside. Quickly, he checked the different flavors: cherry, cherry, strawberry, lime, triple melon (which they had bought on sale but had yet to try), strawberry, and...pineapple.

There was a single pineapple there.

Thank Heavens for Jello shots and his partner’s preference for tropical-flavored drinks.

Stepping back into the kitchen, he held up the box triumphantly. “We have pineapple Jello. So we only need the cranberries and whipped topping”

[Marnie Sullivan]

Marnie looked up from her apple at her proclamation, eyebrows high in surprise, before breaking into another wide smile. They actually had some? Would wonders never cease.

"That's perfect!" she exclaimed with delight. "The fluff goes last and setting the jello takes the longest, so we don't have to worry about that until Mister Bernstein gets home!"

Unexpectedly invigorated knowing they would actually be making her dish, Marnie deposited the last peeled apple onto the plate with the others, wiped her hands on the corner of her apron, and planted them stoutly on her hips. "Okay, what's next?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The fluff came last. That didn’t surprise Sean, since most parfait recipes required a whipped topping of some sort, and that often came last, or, if not, then was never the bottom layer. He acknowledged what Marnie said with a nod and then declared, “I’ll call Josh so he can pick it up on the way home,” he said. With that, he crossed to the wall where the handset reside and he lifted the receiver, pressing the speed dial button to reach his partner’s cell phone.

Josh picked up on the third ring, undoubtedly engaged in conversation with his mother, or assisting his father, or talking to Matt. No matter, he would make short work of this.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” he assured the other man quickly. “I just have something to add to the list on the way home. A carton of marshmallow fluff,” he turned towards Marnie as he said that, searching for confirmation that this was what he needed, before he added, “If that’s an offer, how about a box of those after dinner chocolate mints? Yes, those sound good too.”

Then he turned away from Marnie and lowered his voice. “Another pack to be on the safe side. The usual.”

He raised his voice to a typical volume and then said, “I love you too. Call me when you’re ready to come home.”

With that, he hung up the telephone and spun around towards Marnie again.

“Since we have the Jello and the cranberries, do you want to get started on that? Otherwise, you can help me mash potatoes.”

[Marnie Sullivan]

"Either one is fine!" But even without telepathy, he could likely guess which Marnie would prefer.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean could guess which Marnie would prefer to make, and he was happy to accommodate her. After all, she was a guest, and it had been a while since he and Josh had had young guests for a holiday, excluding Ryan and Tomer occasionally, but, even their nephews rarely came for holidays, as they always had somewhere else to be. He wanted Marnie to have a good time, and, although they had more than enough food to prepare over the next couple of hours, he could handle the potatoes while she made her favorite Thanksgiving dessert.

“How about you get started on the dessert then,” he told her. With that, he pulled a mixing bowl down and set it in front of her, and then he grabbed his measuring cup and a wooden mixing spoon so she could get to work there. “I have water boiling for something else, but we can spare a cup,” he assured her.

They could ladle a cup of boiling water into the bowl for her, and then she could get to work adding in the Jello mix and the cold water.

With that, he turned back to his potatoes, mashing the second dish of them.

[Marnie Sullivan]

"Sounds good!" Marnie happily took the box of jello mix and tore open the end to dump the pale yellow powder into the bowl. She collected her share of the boiling water with the measuring cup, pouring it in with one hand and stirring with the other. Puffs of tart yellow sugar rose from the bowl with the force of her stirring, stinging her nose lightly until the water had reached every bit of it.

As Marnie stirred, waiting for the mix to dissolve, she tried to remember the next step. It wasn't a complicated dish, sure, but she had never seen the recipe herself. The mix was as yellow as one would expect from pineapple anything; in years past she could remember it being mostly cranberry, so maybe she would need two parts berry for every one part jello? But she needed to add them before it set, so at this point she could add as much as she needed to.

"That looks about right, I think," Marnie declared once the jello mix was dissolved. "Where are your cranberries?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean smiled at Marnie’s enthusiasm, before he retreated back to the other side of the kitchen so he could work on his side dishes. It was nice to have that youthful exuberance around the holiday again; the psychiatrist had no real opportunities for that anymore. His only nephew was in his mid-twenties and spent the holiday with his parents, and while Sean was technically welcome at the Bernstein Thanksgivings, as he had a standing invitation to all Bernstein holidays that predated his reconciliation with Josh by about thirty years, Bobby Bernstein’s cognition had deteriorated to the point where holidays were stressful rather than pleasant.

Moreover, the psychiatrist loathed Thanksgiving for reasons that had nothing to do with politics – even if he would never by decorations that featured either Pilgrims or Native Americans – and everything to do with the reasons why he hosted a Thanksgiving supper for friends who had nowhere else to go.

After checking the oven again for both the noodle kugel and the turkey, he settled back at his counter and picked up his potato masher once more. One dish down and two more to go, before he could move on to the non-potato vegetable side dishes.

He had just finished with the sweet potatoes when Marnie asked a question, and he turned around to face her. Gesturing with his left elbow, he answered, “They should be over there. Take whatever you need.”

He had more than enough to spare, and they were real cranberries, rather than the cranberry sauce that came in a can and poured out in a cylindrical lump.