I sat perfectly still in my seat, trying to process exactly what I was feeling. Livvie had included me on her list. She was thankful for me. She’d found a place to belong with me. I felt exactly the same way, but I could never be so casual with expressing my emotions. Perhaps if we were alone, perhaps if we were in the dark, or imaginably naked, then I could tell her. But everyone was looking at me. Livvie was smiling sweetly, encouragingly. Claudia’s stare was much more invasive and practically tried to intimidate me into speaking. Rubio simply waited. He was a patient sort. I cleared my throat and smiled.

“Well, it’s difficult to top that, but I’ll try to offer something.” I looked toward Livvie. “I know we haven’t known each other long. We’ve only been seeing each other a month and a half.” She smiled at me with narrowed eyes. “However, I can honestly say… these have been the best six weeks I’ve ever had. I’m thankful for the time we’ve been given so far, and I hope that by next year—” I looked toward everyone else, “I’ll love all you fuckers as well.”

Claudia and Rubio laughed. I returned my gaze to Livvie. She was staring at me with an expression I hadn’t quite seen before. I liked it.

“I’m thankful for good food, great friends, and love. May God bless this food and our friendships,” Rubio said quickly and succinctly. I looked away from Livvie reluctantly and smiled. Claudia pulled Rubio toward her mouth roughly and kissed him much more passionately than was perhaps appropriate at the dinner table. Young love. That’s what I wanted.

Claudia whispered to him in Spanish, “I’m thankful for you, my love.” To the rest of the table, she said, “I’m thankful for my family, my friends, and all this food. Now please, let’s eat it!” Everyone laughed and agreed it was time to eat. I picked up my fork and dove into the turkey and stuffing. It was my first Thanksgiving and I immediately decided we would celebrate it every year.

Over dinner, I listened to Livvie discuss classes with her friends and the movies they were watching. They had been watching Stanley Kubrick’s work and discussing it in class. Claudia and Rubio were fans, but Livvie felt a lot of his work lacked in its ability to communicate a clear message to its audience.

“All this talk about A Clockwork Orange, like it’s the greatest movie ever or something,” Livvie said around the turkey in her mouth. “I’d say two-thirds of the people who saw that movie didn’t fucking get it. It’s the emperor who has no clothes. Enough people called it brilliant that the idiots who didn’t get it pretended to understand it just so they wouldn’t be called idiots—which makes them cowardly idiots. The movie could have been better. It could have delivered the message of the movie in a much clearer fashion and inspired some real dialogue about human nature, society, and psychology as a treatment. Instead, all anyone can remember is the rape scene. It’s stupid.”

“I have to disagree,” said Rubio. “I think it’s very clearly a movie about how society doesn’t care about its own ruination. Society does not care about the disease—it only wants to treat the symptoms. It does not care that Alex is violent or what happened to make him such a sociopath. It only wants him punished and ‘rehabilitated’. But there is no such thing as behavior control. It has to be a choice, a person has to choose to be a better person, and the only reason they choose to be better is if there is a reason. Alex was forcibly rehabilitated with aversion therapy, but once he went back out into the world and encountered all the violence that was still out there he became violent again. It’s the nature of human beings. Kubrick did an incredible job.”

“I know what the movie was about, Rubi. I get the point. My point is Kubrick was so obsessed with portraying the dystopian future that he neglected to push the message to a mainstream audience. Film students and artistic types are not typically prone to violence. The message is nothing new for them. The average movie-goer has to be kicked in the face with the truth or they don’t fucking get it. Why do you think Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ did so well? It was like a hammer of guilt hitting people in the face.”

“Fuck Mel Gibson!” Claudia contributed. “I don’t care if he’s talented. He’s a sanctimonious ass and the last person with any right to make a movie about Jesus.” Rubio caressed Claudia’s arm.

“No need to get worked up, Claudia. We’re just talking.” Rubio looked toward me. “What do you think, James? Are you a Kubrick fan?”

It was the first time anyone had called me James. It was such a simple name. It had no hidden meaning like dog or loyal disciple. It was just a name. A normal name for a normal person.

“Um, I’ve never seen the movie and I don’t really know who Kubrick is. We saw the new Harry Potter last week. I liked that one.” I smiled and sipped some sangria. Everyone burst into laughter, and Livvie leaned over to give me another easy kiss.

“I’m sorry, Sexy. Sometimes we get our nerd on without thinking about other people. Let’s change the subject.”

“I don’t mind. I like hearing what you think. I follow the conversation. Personally, I’d like to think a person can change for the better. But I think Rubio is correct as well—a person has to have a reason to change. They have to believe their situation will be made better by changing. Otherwise, that person is at a disadvantage. Violence is necessary if you live in a violent world.” My heart was thumping hard.

Rubio’s expression turned sour. “I never said violence was necessary. I said there’s too much of it and we need to find a way to treat it as a societal disease.”

“That will never happen. Even flowers kill, Rubio. Human beings are far more flawed than flowers. We all do what we feel we must do. If that means killing… so be it. Survival—”

“Is the most important thing,” Livvie finished. Her expression turned wistful. She set her fork down and stood. “I’m bored of this conversation. Let’s play more Rock Band.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I knew that smile well.

I regretted ever opening my stupid mouth.

We played Rock Band for a few more hours. I got much better at the guitar and actually enjoyed myself. I’d studied a lot of things about America and Americans. I’d learned about their pop culture, but I’d never played a video game. It was very entertaining and I decided I’d be buying a PlayStation the very next day.

Afterward, Claudia and Rubio decided to pack up more than their share of the leftovers and head home. They hugged me goodbye—yes, both of them—and I thought it was a little strange. I went with it, though. I could be a hugger… maybe. No, it was weird.

“If we were in The States, you could buy one on the cheap tomorrow. Too bad Spain doesn’t celebrate Black Friday,” Livvie said as she turned the faucet on and began washing dishes.

“What the hell is that?” I asked and opened the dishwasher.

“It’s a sacred tradition where thousands of hoarders camp outside stores and then bludgeon their neighbors for the best prices on PlayStations and iPads. I used to go with my mom.” She shrugged.

“I think I’ll just order one on the computer. Unless you would find it romantic for me to bludgeon your neighbors?” I smiled. Livvie laughed.

“Hmmm… maybe. Let’s see who complains about the loud rock music.” She shoved me with her shoulder. “You did good today. My friends are a little in love with you, I think.”

I felt a strange pang in my chest.

“I did my best. They seem nice. Claudia is a little too friendly, and I don’t understand how Rubio does anything in those skinny pants, but they obviously love you. You’re very lucky, Kitten.” I paused. “There seems to be no shortage of people who love you.”

Livvie was scouring a pot and didn’t meet my eyes.