A Christmiss Story

"You know I don't," I hissed. There was no way I was going to let what little family I had see me like this.

"I've been thinking about you," she said.

"Dreaming up more ways to fuck with me?" I said under my breath.

"You know, I feel badly about the way I treated you on Saturday. Why don't you let me make it up to you?"

"Like how?"

"How would you like to have Thanksgiving dinner at my sister's in Wisconsin?"

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"No, I mean it. It'll be very informal, and nobody will know who you really are. In fact, we'll have to get you some casual clothes. On me."

The prospect of being able to wear something other than a dress and high heels for the weekend broke my resistance. "Really?" I asked hesitantly, wondering what I was getting myself into.

"Honest Injun. Your office closes early today, right?"

"They're letting us off at three o'clock."

"Meet me at Filene's Basement on State Street at three fifteen." She hung up before I could say no.

* * *

Early on Thanksgiving morning, I sat back in the passenger seat of Donna's Audi as we crawled through holiday traffic on the Dan Ryan Expressway. My hopes of getting some jeans or slacks at Filene's had been dashed when pair after pair were too baggy in the hips, and we'd finally settled on a pleated kilt and a denim jumper, some opaque tights and a comfortable pair of flats. I wrung my hands nervously in the lap of my kilt while Donna wove in and out of traffic until she was able to hit cruising speed for the long drive north.

"How are things going at the office?" she asked me.

"Okay, I guess. I mean, the girls seem to have accepted me, or at least they're pretending to."

"That's because they know the consequences if they don't."

"What do you mean?"

"Everybody has been briefed on what will happen to the company if you leave."