Connor Franks arrived at tiny Municipal Airport in Owens Mill a day ahead of Thanksgiving. His trip from Syracuse University in New York had led him on a series of connecting flights and long bus rides. Fortunately he had found a little charter airline that would fly him over the mess of a snowstorm that had crippled the great plains and cancelled his scheduled landing in Wichita.
His parents had braved the weather to greet him. Margaret and Wilson 'Frank' Franks were not exactly the prototypical Kansas farmers. They looked nothing like their American Gothic counterparts and had in fact sold much of the farm to developers a few years ago to put Connor and his sister through school. Not that they could compete with the corporate farms much longer anyway.
"My little boy!" his mom shrieked as he scanned the tarmac. Connor couldn't see her, but she had seen him. She practically tackled him, it was a miracle he hadn't lost his footing on the slick pavement. "My baby." She covered his cold cheeks with kisses.
"Mother!" Connor pushed her away. The airport may have been small, but with the holiday it was brimming with activity.
"Welcome home buddy," his dad said. Connor embraced both parents in a hug. "We've really missed you."
"So I noticed." He hadn't made it home the past summer, opting for a study program in exotic Buffalo. He hadn't seen his family since Easter, that was the longest he'd ever been away. Something was still missing.
"Where's Beck?"
"Oh, new boyfriend," his mom said. "She's been spending all of her time with him."
"They're getting a little too serious if you ask me," his dad piped in. "She really should have been here."
"Oh don't worry about it," Connor gave a dismissive gesture, "you're only eighteen once."
On the ride home his folks gave Connor all of the latest family news, while he relayed all of what he had learned from the exciting world of structural engineering. It was a good thing he was driving, because after a few sentences he had put them both to sleep.
Home was a sight for sore eyes. Shortly after his parents sold all of their farmland Connor had earned a scholarship to Syracuse of all places. It was some kind of charity deal where neurotic New Yawkers donate their money to send some poor hick to a decent school. His tiny county high school was a long way from central New York but was somehow chosen and since he had the best grades he wound up the lucky winner. Anyway, it saved his parents enough money to pay off some old debts and refurbish the homestead. They had put much needed insulation in the old barn and remodeled the kitchen and bathrooms. Nothing fancy, they were still anything but rich.
Connor took advantage of one of those remodeled bathrooms. It was nice to use a shower stall that he could move around in without fear of grazing a wall that festered with God-knows-what. He toweled off in his room and dressed in a pair of jeans and an undershirt. His skin was still moist and tingling with that freshly scrubbed feeling when he heard a rumble outside.
A motor revved. Peeking from his upstairs window he saw an old Harley pull into the drive. What kind of schmuck drives a motorcycle in the snow? The kind of schmuck who lets a girl ride behind him sans helmet. Not just any girl, but Connor's baby sister Rebecca.
The guy pulled off his own helmet, revealing greasy black hair that stopped just above his shoulders. The couple hopped off the bike, then the guy pulled Rebecca to him. The couple tongue-kissed. The guy's hands fell to Rebecca's butt. This is too gross, Connor thought. Half of him wanted to throw up, the other half wanted to go outside and beat the hell out of the creep who was putting the moves on his little sis. He settled for closing his curtains. After a couple of minutes the Harley rumbled again growing fainter as it drove away.
Connor lay on his bed to recover from his trip. He must have dozed off. He awoke covered in an afghan and someone had turned the lamp off, his mother had been at work here. The clock radio's red digital face read 10:30. He had been awakened by something. He heard it again: a soft knock on his door.
"Connor?" a hushed voice asked through the barrier. He told Rebecca to come in. "God, I'm sorry. I totally forgot that you were coming home." She brushed a strand of ginger hair out of her eyes.
He was sure that dad had shamed her into the apology. "That's alright. Are we still on for tomorrow morning?"
"Same as always." She said no more just closed his door as quietly as possible.
The next morning Connor had fired up the console television, his folks had just bought a satellite. The reception was finally clear enough to use that video cassette recorder they bought a few years back, now if they could only find a place that still sold betas.
He sat on the couch stretching a long leg all the way to the other end.
"Move it or lose it," Rebecca said. She had a plate full of rolls and stuffing and a little of just about everything else that their mother had prepared for dinner. He pulled his leg off her side, resting it on the coffee table. "Did I miss anything?"
"No, it hasn't even started." Then as if on cue the ribbon was cut on screen and the annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade had begun. Sure it was for kids and sure it could get mind-numbingly boring after three straight hours, but hey, it was tradition. The siblings had sat on the same couch and watched the same parade every Thanksgiving all of their lives.
Rebecca took a hot roll and put it to her mouth. It must have been too warm as she immediately pursed her pink lips and blew. She took a bite, a few white flakes drifted to her thick blaze orange sweater. She brushed at her chest clearing the crumbs.
"Would you like a bib?" Connor asked. She stuck out her tongue in reply.
"I'm surprised you've never went in person, you go to school right in New York," Rebecca said as Kermit the Frog's balloon was dragged across 34th Street.
"New York City and New York State are just a little different. A farm boy from Kansas, who lacked the ability to duck in a phone booth and change into Superman, wouldn't last two minutes in that city."
"Still, it would probably be less stressful than coming back here every year."
"Yeah, but then I couldn't sit here with you." She smiled despite having a mouthful of mashed potatoes and batted her eyes teasingly. "You'd better slow down on the food or they'll be floating you through the streets of Manhattan." Her face soured and she flung a roll at him.
"Who would you suggest I take anyway?" Connor asked after they had both stopped laughing. "I'm not about to go to a parade by myself."
"Well, you could always go with one of your little girlfriends," she answered.
"I see, would that be the ones who won't give me the time of day or the ones I make up just to keep mom from meddling in my love life."
"I was thinking more along the lines of Courtney."
Courtney had been his sweetheart in high school. They had actually kept a relationship up through the first year of college, but then she wanted something more tangible.
"Only one problem sis, Courtney's married and it's not to me."
"Was married," Rebecca said. "She just got divorced. You must have some really convincing fake girlfriends for mom not to have relayed that piece of information."
The doorbell rang, it was their grandmother. She was their father's mother, but you'd never know it by the way she adored her daughter-in-law. True to character Grandma Jo went straight to the kitchen to offer what assistance she could.
The parade was almost over and the big appearance of Santa Claus was advertised as next. "I find it hard to believe," Rebecca said after a while.
