Chapter 16 I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter

"It's the butter, isn't it?" Gabe questioned with a wide smile. "That was my mom's secret to a perfect turkey. Lots and lots of butter. This tastes exactly like how my mom makes it."

Savannah sat with her mouth agape as though someone had accused her of using human blood to season the turkey. Butter on turkey went against everything Savannah Rosenberg stood for. It went against her values, how she raised her children, against her religion. Leah could see all this in her mother's spread lips and she knew what her mother was thinking: he was too reform. So reform that he wasn't even a member of the tribe.

"We don't eat butter with meat in this house," Savannah commented. "It's not kosher. Did you not grow up kosher?"

"I'm Italian," Gabe responded with pride as he took another bite of the turkey. "I could have sworn this had butter on it."

"Italian," Savannah repeated. Leah felt her cheeks burning and her ears smoking. How could she have let this happen? She should have prepared Gabe about what not to say. She caught Shira's eyes, which told her: No, you should have prepared Mom and Dad for this . She wanted to smack Shira for telepathing this to her when she obviously knew it already. This was a mistake. A big mistake. "So, you're not Jewish?"

"Jewish? Me? No," Gabe smirked. "But I always felt like Jews and Italians were really similar. For example, we both seem to gravitate around food and lots of carbs. Jews do Friday dinners, we do Sundays. We're both known for our guilt, a very honed skill in both cultures—"

"Judaism isn't a culture," Leah's father jumped in. "It's a religion. Like Christianity. Are you Christian?"

"Well," Gabe seemed to fumble, just like the football player did on TV earlier. "I grew up in a Christian household, but I'm not religious or anything."

"Or anything." Her father stressed.

"Yeah, I mean, I still go home for the Christmas ham and whatever, but it's more about family than religion." Leah felt her mom cringe at the word ham.

"I see," Savannah commented. "Would you like some cranberry sauce? I made double what I usually do." She offered up the bowl of sauce with a new layer of politeness that hadn't been there before. "I do hope you like cranberry sauce. "

"I do, thank you." Gabe took the sauce that was passed down the table, not noticing the cloud that blew in with it. The table was silent except for the clinking of silverware on plates. A few crunches as teeth chomped on the salad croutons or pecans from the yams.

"Why don't we talk about what we're thankful for?" Shira broke the silence. Their family had a long-standing tradition of going around the table at Thanksgiving. Leah had memories of this from the time when she was most thankful for her goldfish and for her pink fluffy slippers that kept her feet warm. She'd surely still be thankful for those if her feet hadn't grown out of them years ago. Leah remembered one year that she and Shira had both had boyfriends, Jewish boyfriends, and that was what her mom was thankful for.

"I'm so thankful that both my girls are dating wonderful men who will make good husbands and fathers one day!" Her mom had said and both girls immediately fired back. AJ and I are never getting married! Shira had shouted. We're in college! We're not even thinking about marriage and kids! Leah had similarly fought back, while secretly she was also thankful that Asher seemed like perfect husband and father material. That year Leah had been thankful for her BBYO chapter, her sister coming home from college, and for Asher who was filling out his college applications .

"Great idea!" Their dad said. "I'll start. I'm thankful that we're all healthy. Savannah?"

"That's it? That's the only thing you are thankful for? Our health? Everything else is so horrible?" Leah's poor father. He became the unintended target of Savannah's misplaced anger.

"No, of course not! I'm just saying that's what I am thankful for. You can be thankful for whatever you want. This is what I am thankful for." He stood his ground.

"Well, what am I thankful for? I'm thankful for my daughters and my husband, even though none of you seem to be thankful for me!"

"What? Mom!" Shira shouted. "Why would you say that? Of course we're thankful for you!"

Memories of previous holiday disasters came back. For some reason, her mom was always extra emotional on holidays and prone to snap. Maybe it was the early morning and long days of cooking. Maybe it was because they were some of the few times when the whole family was together. Leah remembered one year when she said she was thankful she was going to college the next year. "Why, because you don't like being home?" Her mom had snapped. "Once you go to college, you'll realize how much I do for you! You don't appreciate any of it!"

"Well, you all sure have a funny way of showing how thankful you are!" Savannah huffed. "After everything I do, how much effort I put into raising you! Everything I taught you to value, you all just throw it out the window like it means nothing!"

"Mom, that's not true!" Shira kept fighting.

"No? So how do you explain your job working in customer service? That's what you got a degree for? That's how I raised you? That's how you thank me for giving you every opportunity in life? A job in a call center?"

"Mom, that has nothing to do with you-"

"It has everything to do with me! And Leah! I've been so supportive of you! And now, you—"

"All right enough!" Leah's dad slammed his fist on the table. "Let's just enjoy this food that we are all thankful that you cooked for us and have a nice Thanksgiving, OK? We are all thankful for you, Savannah, my lovely wife and a wonderful mother who supports and gives our kids all the opportunities they can imagine. All right?"

Savannah huffed and shook her head while stuffing a forkful of green beans in her mouth. "None of you are ever thankful. You don't even know what that means," she mumbled quietly.

Dinner continued despite the thickness in the air. Somehow the family made it through pecan, apple, and pumpkin pie without another outburst. Savannah quickly started clearing the plates the moment the last bite was taken. Gabe stood up and lifted two half-eaten pies. "I got it," Savannah said as she grabbed the pans from him. "Why don't you kids just leave me and your father to clean up? Don't you have parties or anything to go to tonight?"

"Mom, it's like 7:00 PM," Shira responded.

"What? And that's too early to get out of my hair?" Savannah grunted as she carried the plates and pans to the kitchen, her husband quickly following with whatever she had left.

"Everyone's going out downtown tonight," Shira said when it was just the three of them. "But I'm pretty sure nothing opens until like 10."

From the kitchen, dishes clanked and the girls could hear their parents failed attempts at arguing quietly. "Why don't we go for a walk?" Leah suggested. Gabe and Shira agreed and the three of them grabbed their coats and quietly walked outside.

"So is that what Thanksgiving is like at your place?" Shira asked once they left the driveway. The neighborhood was quiet, but all the houses had their lights on. Leah imagined most families were still sitting around their tables, stuffing themselves with another round of turkey, not yet even thinking about dessert. Probably everyone was enjoying their company and talking about all the wonderful things in their lives.

"Pretty much," Gabe responded. "Although my mom probably would have already been upset before the meal started. I probably would have folded a napkin wrong it would have ruined the entire meal."

Shira and Leah chuckled. "So our mom isn't the only crazy one," Leah said.

"Jews and Italians, I said. We're all the same." Gabe pulled Leah in closer and kissed her temple.

"Really?" Shira questioned. "What would your mom say if you brought a Jewish girl home? Do Italians care about those things?"

"Well, my grandma didn't talk to my uncle for six years after he married a Protestant."

"Really?" Leah questioned.

"Yup, my grandma pretended like her son was dead."

"So why did they start talking again after six years?"

"His wife died. And then he did marry a Catholic."

"What did your parents think? About your uncle?"

"It was my mom's brother. She didn't care so much. She stayed in touch with her brother. But she did marry an Italian." Leah had hoped the story would have ended differently. "You didn't tell your parents I'm not Jewish."

Leah felt caught. "No, I mean, I was going to, I just, I don't know… "

"Leah knew they wouldn't approve," Shira cut in for her sister. "Our parents prefer us marrying Jews no matter what. We could bring home a Jewish guy and he could slap one of us in the face in front of our parents and they'd still love him because he was Jewish. On the other hand, you could be a total mensch, but since you're Catholic Italian, you're basically the worst guy Leah could end up with."

"Well that's reassuring," Gabe responded. "I didn't mean to cause any problems. I had no idea it was an issue."

"How could you?" Shira responded. "It sounds like Jews are still a generation behind Italians."

Gabe chuckled. They continued to walk quietly until the crisp air started to burn their cheeks.

"I'm going downtown," Shira announced when they got back home. Leah also had friends meeting at the local bars and she had even been looking forward to showing Gabe off. But after dinner, Leah wasn't so sure. Would her friends have the same reactions as her mom? Would they ask about Asher? She told Gabe she was tired—all that turkey and tryptophan, and suggested they go to sleep.

The house was quiet. The kitchen was clean, leaving no remnants of a holiday meal except a few plates in the drying rack by the sink. The lights were off and the door to Leah's parents' room was closed. She led Gabe into her old bedroom and snuggled into him. She couldn't sleep, even to the sound of his rhythmic breathing that only made her feel more awake and alone.