Max was unloading his stuff in Chris' bedroom. Now was the time to do it. He figured as much. There was no stopping now.
He saw that Chris was on the phone. Max took it that Chris was in a heavy duty conversation with him mother. He kept saying, "Yes, Momma," ever so often. Max couldn't help from grinning and Chris would look back at him with a funny cringe that he was afraid he might crack up if Max kept smiling.
"Uh, I don't know." They were talking about Thanksgiving. Max was sure of it. Max shook his head, no. "Its just me, you know. Sure. What time? Noon, sharp. Naw, I don't want to go hunting with Carly's husband and his brothers."
Max looked confused, maybe this had nothing to do with Thanksgiving. He had never thought the importance of deer hunting on a holiday.
"So what can I bring?" He nodded. "Yeah, that should be easy, I'll just pick up rolls then." Finally he put in that dreaded, "I love you too." He hung up.
"Why won't you come?" Chris didn't sound all that hurt.
"I can't. Prior engagement," Max hung his clothes in Chris' empty closet. It seemed Chris didn't have much of anything.
"You going to your Mom's?"
Max shook his head, no. "I said I'd do this Thanksgiving service at the assistant living place and then I'm having dinner with them."
Chris just nodded.
"But we can have our own Thanksgiving, you know."
"Fine." Chris shrugged.
"We'll, do it that night," Max smiled.
"Good." Chris remained even lipped.
Max pulled out one of his cashmere gray cardigans then.
"Try this on." He buttoned it up Chris before he had a chance to say no.
"That looks nice on you." Max nodded.
"Its pretty," Chris said. "But, I'm not wearing that to my mother's house." He unbuttoned it and immediately took it off. He handed it back to Max.
"What? Would it be wrong in dressing up for dinner?" Max didn't understand.
"You don't do that where I come from. Its messy. I'll be cutting up meat most of the afternoon. Good old flannel, my trust blood stained thermal shirt underneath. You have to work on Thanksgiving." He smiled.
"Don't tell me you're gonna do that. Your hand?"
"She's kind of expecting me, I gotta help out with the casings and the sausage. I seem to be the only one that can get the meat in just right." Chris nodded.
"Yeah, well, that's Thanksgiving." Chris went to put Max's sweater on a hanger. "But what about your Mom's. Hasn't she asked you about the holidays?"
"Don't get me started on that woman," Max reached for Chris by the belt loop then. "I'm gonna let Bex have her all to herself this year." His arm came around Chris while he still had his back turned to Max. Chris felt Max's chin resting on the crook of his neck. Maybe they'd just start Thanksgiving early, and it wouldn't have to have a thing to do with cooking.