A/N: As Thanksgiving approaches in the US, I want to express my gratitude for everyone who supports my writing. Here's a Thanksgiving piece about Gatsby from A Rainy Day in New York having an awkward visit with his girlfriend, Chan's family. 🤭(There are some phrases in Spanish, so the translations will be in this font). Please enjoy.
The weather was finally feeling crisp and cool. Being away in New York for a period of time meant that I got accustomed to the blustery air and fog upon my breath as I made my way across the city. Now, I was home in California, where the seasons took a while to come around as they all tended to blend into one. However, the leaves were finally falling and the wind was strong enough to wrestle pedestrians’ hair, which was exactly what was happening to my boyfriend, Gatsby at the moment.
I giggled as I watched his ever messy curls dance in the breeze. I reached out my hand and pushed them lightly out of his face, making eye contact with him.
“Are you ready?” I asked him, as a crooked smile crossed his lips.
“To meet my girlfriend's parents? Gosh! Can anyone truly ever be prepared for that?” he replied with a shaky laugh.
I smiled at him. It was endearing to see how nervous he was because it showed how much valued our relationship.
“To be fair, this isn't the first time that you've met them, but it's true that this is the first time seeing them since we became official,” I said, taking his left hand in my right one.
“I know it's cheesy, but I just want to leave a good impression on them. My Spanish isn't up to part either, which doesn't ease the nerves,” Gatsby said, with an apologetic shrug.
I raised his hand to my lips and kissed it, chuckling to myself as his cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink.
“They both speak English. my dad is not 100% fluent, so that's why he prefers to speak in Spanish,” I replied.
My parents were migrants from Latin America, who came to America in their early twenties. Their first language was Spanish. My mom studied for a few years in the US before permanently settling here, which helped her pick up the English language quicker. My father was a mechanic, which made it a little easier for him to get by with a conversational understanding of the language. Regardless, he was taking night classes to improve his skills.
“I know,” my boyfriend replied, his green eyes twinkling mischievously. “ I am bilingual too, so maybe I can charm them in French.”
I swatted him playfully with my sweater sleeve.
“Dork,” I said with a smile. “I don't think it works that way.”
“I did bring your mom a quiche though, so the French side of me will make an appearance no matter what,” he joked.
I chuckled. “Noted,” I replied, as I stepped on my tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. He quickly responded by turning my chin gently to face him. Then, he placed a tender kiss upon my lips. I melted into his warmth. Oh how I loved this man!
“I care so much about you,” he whispered as we pulled apart.
“It shows,” I replied teasingly, but I also meant it sincerely. What other reason would he travel across the country with me to join my family for Thanksgiving dinner? He was truly the best.
Gatsby shook his head in amusement at my slight jab, and we walked hand in hand about another block to my parents’ apartment.
“Ready?” I asked, as we climbed up the outdoor stairs to their front door.
“Ready,” he replied with a smile. I could tell that he was still nervous, but our little chat had calmed him down a bit.
I rang the doorbell with one hand and held my boyfriend with the other. I waited a beat, and heard my mom's two chihuahuas, Fonzie and Richie, who were named after the characters in Happy Days, my mom's favorite show here in America, bark to let her know that she had visitors. I heard footsteps rushing to the front door followed by the sound of her four locks being opened.
We were then met with her smiling face as she swung open the door. “Hola, mi reina. Como estas?” (Hello, my queen. How are you?) she said, eagerly enveloping me in a tight embrace. It felt comforting to be in her arms again after so much time of being thousands of miles away from her.
“Estoy bien Mamá y usted cómo ha estado?” (I'm good Mama. How have you been?) I said into her shoulder as the embrace continued. I knew that my decision to move away from home was tough on both of us since we'd been inseparable for my entire life.
“Bien, bien,” she replied as we pulled apart. “Corriendo como una gallina sin cabeza porque tu papá se fue a la tienda y se le olvidó el achiote. Entonces tuve que ir yo a comprarlo hoy en la mañana y me retrasé.” (Good. Good. I'm running around like a headless chicken because your dad forgot to buy an ingredient at the store, so I had to go buy it this morning. Now, I'm behind schedule).
I chuckled as she described her dilemma of trying to finish the meal on time after my father forgot to buy one of the main ingredients at the store.
Suddenly, my mom looked up and faced in the direction of Gatsby, who was watching our reunion with a smile upon his face.
“Y este guapo quién es?" (Who is this handsome fellow?) She said with the sly smile, knowing very well who he was since I never shut up about him during our phone calls over the past semester. It was evident by the way that the tip of his ears turned red that his Spanish was good enough to understand my mom's compliment.
“Buenas tardes señora,” he said politely. “Yo soy Gatsby, el novio de su hija y es un placer conocerla.” (Good evening mam. I'm Gatsby, your daughter's boyfriend. It's a pleasure to meet you.)
I smiled at his seamless use of Spanish. Impressed, my mom gave me a pleased look. She wrapped him in a hug as well, which in turn made him even more flustered. So far so good, I thought to myself as they exchanged greetings and he gave her the quiche that he brought.
As we headed inside, the smell of pan con pavo and mashed potatoes filled my nose. That was the beautiful thing about being from two different cultures, the blending of traditions always made for festive family gatherings.
Inside, the home was bustling with activity. We were quickly greeted by my two older sisters, who were both married and brought their husbands and children to the family gathering. I hugged and kissed them in greeting, and then brought them over to Gatsby. My siblings exchange looks with each other in glee. I know they were dying to discuss all the details of my new beau during the first free moment the three of us had to ourselves. It would be like old times sake when we discussed crushes with each other within the privacy of our crowded, but cozy room.
My thoughts were interrupted as I felt a small tug upon my sleeve. it was my youngest niece, who was just a few weeks shy of turning four. I smiled and picked her up.
“Hi! Long time no see. how are you?” I asked, booping her nose playfully.
“I’m good, tillita (auntie),” she replied between giggles
Then, she turned towards Gatsby and snuck a glance at him.
“Is that your husband?" she asked me, attempting to whisper, but her voice was still loud enough for him and everyone else in the near proximity to hear.
My eyes widened in surprise, “No, sweetie. He's my boyfriend,” I replied quickly.
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Boyfriend?” she questioned, clearly not familiar with the concept.
“He's someone that I care a lot about, but no, we're not married like your mommy and daddy are,” I replied.
“Later, you get married?” she asked, with the insatiable curiosity of a toddler.
“Honey!” my sister exclaimed suddenly, clearly mortified by my niece's nosy remarks. “I am so sorry!” she said apologetically to Gatsby, who’d remained eerily quiet during the entire exchange.
I turned to face him and was surprised to see that his nervous look from earlier was replaced by a grin that spread from ear to ear.
“No, no. It's okay,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “She's bold and asks the hard questions. I like her.”
My sister looked relieved that my niece hadn't made him feel uncomfortable. In fact, my boyfriend winked at my little niece playfully, and she giggled, further solidifying that there was no bad blood between them. My heart melted at the scene. Who knew he was so good with children?
Suddenly, I heard someone clear their throat loudly. I looked around and was surprised to see my father standing in the doorway of the kitchen, observing the scene before him.
“Papa!” I said, heading over to greet him with a hug. He reciprocated the gesture and lovingly placed his chin on my head.
“Hola mi hija. Qué bueno verte de nuevo,” (Hello my daughter. How lovely to see you again.) he said, sincerely.
As we pulled apart, his gaze landed upon Gatsby.
“El es tu novio?” (Is he your boyfriend?) my father asked, studying the man before him, who was smiling nervously. My father wasn't a strict parent, but he always wanted what was best for us. My eldest sister shot me an empathetic look because he acted the same way when she brought her now husband home for the first time.
“Sí papá, él es mi novio, Gatsby quien conocí en Nueva York” (Yes dad. He is my boyfriend, Gatsby whom I met in New York.) I replied with a smile, as my boyfriend took a step forward and stretched his hand out as a greeting.
“Buenas tardes señor. Mucho gusto conocerlo,” (Good evening sir. It's a pleasure to meet you.) he said, warmly.
“Igualmente. ¿Cuánto tiempo llevan juntos?” (Likewise. How long have you been together?) my father asked, and like my mother knew very well when we started dating, but I figured he was just trying to make conversation.
“Seis meses” (Six months) Gatsby replied, and I could tell he was trying to maintain a stable conversation in Spanish.
My father nodded. “Qué bueno. Espero que tengas apetito porque mi esposa y yo hemos preparado una cena muy rica,” (That's good. I hope that you brought your appetite because my wife and I prepared a delicious dinner.) he said. I knew that this was a mini test because my parents took pride in their cooking, so my boyfriend's reaction would be important.
The young man beside me squeezed my hand lovingly. “Muchas gracias señor y sí uh…” (Thank you sir, and yes uh...) he paused awkwardly, recalling how to say the next part of his sentence in Spanish.
“Tengo muchos hombres,” (I have a lot of men.) Gatsby replied, proud of himself for remembering how to respond correctly.
However, the chatter in the room suddenly came to a halt. My boyfriend must have sensed something was wrong because he squeezed my hand a bit harder, which I reciprocated. My father took a step closer to us and studied with my partner.
“Tienes muchos hombres?” (You have a lot of men?) he asked with a serious look upon his face.
Gatsby nodded uncertainly, and I heard my youngest sister snicker behind us. I shot her a dirty look, and she immediately stopped.
“Papá, ya para por favor,” (Papa. Stop please.) I pleaded, giving him a knowing look.
Suddenly, my father's serious look morphed into one of amusement, and he let out a hearty laugh, unlike any I had ever heard from him before. Gatsby looked over inquisitively at me, and I shrugged with a laugh of my own. He gave me a small smile in return.
My father placed his hands upon my partner's shoulders and said mirthfully, “Son, you just told me that you have a lot of men. I think you meant to say, Tengo mucha hambre (I am very hungry)” he said between laughs. I watched as the color drained from my boyfriend's face. He turned to face me, searching for confirmation. I nodded reluctantly and watched as his pale visage was replaced with an embarrassed red one.
"I'm so sorry! he exclaimed, completely forgetting to respond in Spanish. “Yes, all I meant to say was that I am very hungry!” He ran his hand through his hair awkwardly. “I'm still in the beginning stages of learning Spanish,” he admitted.
My father, who was still grinning in amusement, nodded his head empathetically.
“My English is not good. I understand,” he looked at my blushing boyfriend in the eyes. “I'm only teasing you m’hijo. You try. That is important. You're a hard worker. I see why she likes you.”
I smiled at my dad, gratefully. “Es un buen muchacho, Papa (He is a good man, dad),” I replied.
My father nodded. “Sí, se nota. Cuídalo bien.” (Yes, it shows. Take good care of him.) he whispered in my ear as he wrapped me in a warm embrace, before heading off to help my mother finish the final touches on dinner.
Gatsby and I were left alone in the living room, as my sisters and their families went to set up the dining table. He held his head in his hands and said in a muffled voice, “Gosh! I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life. Now, your whole family probably thinks I'm a player,” he said with a groan.
I giggled and removed his hands from his face.
“Nobody thinks that. They all understand that it was a slip of the tongue,” I responded, reassuringly. "In fact, do you want to know what my dad said?”
He nodded, reluctantly, and I looked into his beautiful emerald eyes.
“He said that you're a good man and not to let you go,” I replied. “I think that's more than enough proof that he really likes you. Honestly, I don't think I've ever heard him laugh so loud.”
Gatsby gave me a hesitant smile and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Glad I could be of service,” he replied.
I smiled at him and said, “He's right. The way you acted with my little niece, my mom, and even my sisters proves how incredible you are.”
I took a deep breath and held his gaze. “That's why…” I began nervously. “That's why I love you.” Now, it was my turn to blush, as I finally voiced the emotion that had been blossoming inside me.
His eyes widened at the confession, but quickly softened as he gently took my chin in his hand. “Do you know how long I've wanted to say those very words to you?” he asked with a shy smile.
“Really?” I asked, almost breathlessly.
He nodded. “I love you so much, and if that means that I have to make a fool of myself in front of your parents to prove it to you, then so be it,” he replied.
He leaned in closer and shut his eyes as he placed his lips, which were slightly chapped from the cold, onto mine. His taste was sweet and tender as he expressed his love for me. I placed my hands around his neck and then ran them through his gorgeous curls.
We stayed like this for a while until I heard a little voice behind me say, “Abuela says dinner is ready!”
Startled, we saw my little niece standing in the doorway, staring at us with a smile as she said, “Are you sure you two aren't married?”
Flustered from being caught in the act of a passionate kissing session, I didn't know how to respond. To my surprise, Gatsby chuckled and replied, “No, we are not married.”
He bent down to her level and said in a hushed voice, “Can you keep a secret?” She nodded eagerly.
“Ok. Then, you can be the first to know when it happens,” he said in a whisper to her, but still loud enough for me to hear him. I felt myself flush at his words.
My niece giggled as she replied, “Okay!”
As she ran back into the kitchen gleefully, Gatsby shrugged playfully at me. At that moment, I had no doubt in my mind that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.
The family dinner only solidified that feeling. I watched as he helped my mother serve the pan con pavo. He and my father exchanged jokes in Spanglish, which cracked up the entire table. My niece loved him, and my sisters loved him for that. The occasion wasn't picture perfect, but it was beautiful. The memory of this evening was one that would be engraved in my head, and it was the story that my niece recounted years later as she raised a toast to us on the night of our wedding.
