Turkey? Not Today?

 Day 17 of the Flash Fiction Marathon. Write about a cancellation

As a kid, Julie loved Thanksgiving. There were the high school football game where kids from previous years came back. Then there was the wonderful smells of roasting turkey and baking pies when she came home from the game in time to catch the end of the Macy's Day Parade.

Her cheeks would be red from the cold and her aunts, uncles and cousins would already be nibbling on cheese and crackers, marinated mushrooms and sweet and sour meatballs. Through out the day the women would be gathered in the kitchen and the men would be huddled around the TV watching football. 

No more.

The last few years the day had broken down into political battles. Last year, one aunt and two uncles were dead from Covid.

This year, she dreaded the three-hour drive to Maine for the meal. She had already told her mother she couldn't stay over because she had to work Friday--a lie.

Ralph, her boyfriend, asked why she was torturing herself by going. She had told him of how the family squabbles had left her on the outside emotionally.

The alarm went off at 5:30. She rolled over in bed and she found herself crying for what had been and was no more.

He took her in his arms. "You don't have to do this. Call them and tell them you aren't coming."

Two hours later, when she knew her mom would be in the kitchen cooking, she called. "My car won't start. I won't be able to come."