For Thanksgiving in 2003, we invited friends. We had Billy, Nick, Bill and Lee Ann (Billy’s parents) and Macy (a girl Holli was trying to set Billy up with).
Nick and Macy, it turned out, knew each other. Small world.
We had Armenian Food instead of Turkey. I don’t think we watched football.
After dinner, we played poker on the porch. Bill won most of the money, Billy, Nick and I lit up cigars.
Lee Ann got rather livid at seeing her son smoke a cigar and they left soon afterward. I had been encouraging Billy to be himself and not worry about what his parents thought or said. If anything, I encouraged him to smoke in front of her, to get it out in the open.
After it was all over, I told Billy I kind of blamed myself. He said he did too.
That evening, a childhood friend of Holli’s came over. We drank brandy and smoked cigars on the back porch. Every once in a while we laughed at Billy for his trouble.
Today, more than four years later, Billy is married and lives in Scotland, attending Seminary. I don’t know if he smokes. And if he does, I don’t think he’d tell me.
Bill and Lee Ann still live in North Carolina. We had lunch with them on our last visit. We didn’t talk about the Thanksgiving we spent together.
Holli’s friends still live in Atlanta.
We have no idea where Macy is.
Nick pled guilty to a lesser charge (than vehicular homicide) in order to avoid a possible 99-year prison term and is spending the next eight years in prison. He is a great guy and a great friend who made a mistake. He almost died in the crash. The occupants of the other car weren’t so lucky. No one knows what happened (who crossed the center line) and no one ever will. Nick has no memory of it, and everyone else at the scene died.
It would be nice if we can someday all get together again.
