Johnny Angel

“Why do you think?” she said with a sigh, putting more dressing on the platter. “Because we all miss you. And all the usual old stuff. It's a shame he can't see you too. I think it would help him so much. Why do you suppose they wouldn't let him see you, like me and Bobby?”

“Because he wouldn't understand it, Mom,” Johnny said without hesitation.

“I'm not sure I do either. But I sure do love it,” she said, stopping to kiss him, and then she walked back into the other room with seconds for Jim and the children.

“Talking to yourself again?” Jim asked her with a look of concern. Even after drinking too much, he could hear her talking to herself.

“Sorry,” she said, as Charlotte looked up at her miserably. She hated it when her father got drunk. And now her mother was acting crazy too. Thanksgiving without Johnny was agonizing. It seemed unfair to Alice that Charlotte couldn't see him too. But maybe she wouldn't have understood it either. Whatever the reason, she couldn't see him. He stood right next to her for part of the meal, so close that she should have been able to sense something, but she didn't. “The Adamses said they'd come by after they eat their turkey,” Alice said to everyone at the table.

“Why do they have to come here?” Jim didn't sound pleased about it. He just wanted to finish eating, and sit in front of the TV, drinking beer, and watching football.

“They're our friends, Jim,” Alice chided.

“So what? Johnny's gone, and Becky's not his girlfriend.” Alice said nothing, and they all went on eating, and a few minutes later, Charlotte helped her clear the table. It was a relief to end the meal and move around the kitchen.

“I hate him,” Charlotte said, as she set the platters down on the counter. Bobby came in with his plate, and his mother took it from him. Jim had already abandoned the table, without waiting for the pumpkin pie or the whipped cream she had made for it.

“He can't help it, Charlie. You know that,” her mother said gently.

“Yes, he can. He doesn't have to get drunk all the time. It's disgusting.” Charlotte looked heartbroken, and it pained Alice to see it.

“He misses Johnny,” Alice said, knowing full well that he also felt guilty about Bobby, and had since he'd stopped speaking.

“I miss him too,” Charlotte said practically, “so do you. You're not falling-down drunk,” she said with a grim expression. “All you do is talk to yourself. That's pretty weird, but at least it's not as sick as what he does.”

“Don't say things like that about your father,” Alice said firmly.

“Why not? It's true. Dad's a drunk, Johnny's gone. Bobby is never going to talk again.” Her eyes filled with tears as she listed the miseries that afflicted all of them, but only some of them were true. Bobby had begun to talk again, and Johnny was back, for a while at least. And she was talking to him, not herself.

“Maybe Dad will stop drinking one of these days,” Alice said with a sigh, as she cut wedges of the pumpkin pie, but no one was hungry. “People do, you know.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, unconvinced, helping herself to a dollop of whipped cream with her finger. “I'll believe that when I see it.”

“He's been better lately,” Alice said hopefully, but Charlotte didn't look as though she agreed with her.

“Not today. He could have at least stayed sober on Thanksgiving.”

The three of them picked at their pumpkin pie, and Johnny sat at the table in his father's empty seat between Charlotte and Bobby. And as Alice started clearing the table, the doorbell rang, it was Becky and her mother and brothers and sisters. They made a noisy entrance, as Johnny sat, staring at Becky. She looked beautiful in a dark blue velvet dress, with her shining gold hair hanging down her back just the way he had loved it. Alice felt a pang of sorrow for him as she saw the way he watched her.

“Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!” Pam said as she handed Alice an apple pie she and Becky had made that morning. “How was dinner?”

“It was all right,” Alice said quietly, as Charlotte took Becky and the girls up to her room, and Johnny silently followed. Alice then suggested that Bobby take the boys up to his room, and Pam followed her into the kitchen. She could see easily that it had been a hard Thanksgiving for them, and she remembered all too well how hard it had been for them the first year after Mike died. All of the holidays had been agony for them, and it was obvious that this one was no different. At their house, Becky had cried on and off all through dinner, and talked about how much she missed Johnny.

“Where's Jim?” Pam asked, as Alice nodded toward the living room. They could hear the TV blaring.

“He's watching football. He's not in such great shape either. I guess no one is.” Even though she and Bobby could see Johnny, it was painful knowing how much the others felt his absence.

“The holidays are tough the first year. Christmas will be even worse. Start bracing yourself for it.” Alice nodded in answer, and continued rinsing the dishes.