(43) Trevor Wallace – Dhampir

“What the…?”

I look at the baskets and then the woman holding them.

She says "Happy Thanksgiving", thrusts them at me, then takes off before I can reply.

I know her. Laugh to myself. This is so like her. She’s a ditzy chick I’ve met a few of times in a club I frequent on occasion. Didn't sleep with. Just knew her. Sweet but stone crazy. In a good way though. Naw. Not crazy really. Except maybe. Because she likes me it seems. Calls me friend. I remember her inviting me to dinner with her family for…yeah, Thanksgiving I think. Said to bring a friend. I turned her down. Not big on things like that. Family.

I lift the cover on one basket. Damn. Enough here to feed an army. I take a quick inventory. Then call Del. Hell, I can’t eat all this myself.

I tell him to get his ass over here. Well maybe not quite like that but. And don’t tell him why. Just that it’s a surprise.

When he gets here he sniffs the air like a hungry pup.

“Thanksgiving dinner?”

“So it seems. I didn’t realize that today was Thanksgiving.”

“Gods, baby, you didn’t?” He laughs. Pats my arm. “Sometimes you are so out of touch with reality. Where did this come from anyway?”

“A friend brought it over.” I tell him about her and how she delivered the meal. “And then, boom, she splits. Sorta like a blonde Santa on a mission.”

“Wrong holiday,” Del says with a laugh as he starts setting things out. Spreading it all out on my tiny table. I’m wondering if it’ll collapse. He sees my look. Laughs again.

“It’ll be fine. Now sit, baby. Let’s enjoy all this. But first…” He waits till we’re both seated. Folds his hands. Bows his head. “For what we are about to receive we thank you. Please watch out for all in need on this special day and always. And bless Trev's friend, especially, for doing this for us. Amen.”

“Amen,” I say softly.