Be Thankful~

They were going to her parents' house for Thanksgiving. And there were a million places she would rather be.

Thalia let her fingers brush over her pregnant belly. She'd been terrified when she found out. A child of bad parents was probably bound to be a bad parent. He'd listened, shook his head, told her the opposite. And then reminded her that his parents were excellent.

Her parents didn't know. Thalia had barely spoken to them ever since her father had walked out of her wedding. She'd taken years upon years upon years of his stunts. But, every little girl dreams about dancing with her father on her wedding day. Even when said father was so far lost in his own head he was hardly even there at all.

Thalia and her husband climbed into their car, spacious, purchased with anticipation of a child to fill it, and drove to dinner.

Her father sat at the dining room table. Even though they weren't eating for a while. His eyes shifted around the room, frantic, changing direction every few minutes. As if he were watching someone dance around the room, plotting to catch them. Thalia glanced at her husband and he held her hand, running his large thumb over her tiny knuckles.

Her mother busied herself in the kitchen. Turning around only when Thalia's husband cleared his throat. The look of complete shock on the middle-aged woman's face almost made Thalia feel guilty. Almost. "Oh my God," her mother whispered.

Thalia had never been one for confrontation. Possibly one of the only things she had ever learned from her father. So she smiled half-heartedly and offered to help with dinner.

"You. You look just like them. Go away."

"I'm not sure I follow you, sir."

"When's it due?" her mother asked after a lengthy silence.

Thalia paused, startled by the question. "February," she answered. The young woman continued to peel potatoes, being careful not to slice her finger.

Another silence. Something was slammed down on the counter. Hard. "Thalia!" her mother's voice was rough, sad, yet angry. Just like she remembered from her childhood. Thalia did not look up. She focused harder on the potato in her palm. "Look at me!"

Thalia lifted her gaze. Seeing her mother; her twin in everything except the eyes. A woman who Thalia had once found so beautiful, but now found withered. Neglected by a husband who was never able to love her and daughter who had tried but couldn't.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

It wasn't that she didn't think they would care. And it wasn't that she forgot. And it wasn't that she wanted it all to herself. Thalia just didn't want her mother and father to care. She wanted to be free of them, but she wasn't sure she could do it.

They had turned her into a frail, quiet, slip of a person. Weak in every way that mattered. A young woman who let her husband take care of her completely. But they were her parents and in some twisted way, she loved them. Her father who sat for hours on end muttering about cakes and saving the galaxy, missions and trees. And that number. Three hundred and sixty two, three sixty two, three six two. Her mother who sat next to him, which she had to admit was admirable, and wished that one day the man would look up and love her. Thalia had given up hope eons ago.

Thalia took a deep breath, turning back yet again to the potato in her palm. "I don't know," she replied.

Dinner was spent in silence. When her father wasn't glancing frantically around the room, he was glaring daggers at Thalia's husband.

Thalia stood in the doorway of the house she had grown up in, looking at her mother with expectant, calculating, cold brown eyes. The older woman looked at her daughter, having known for years she did the girl a huge injustice. "Your father is dying."

The door shut.

A/N: So, that's that. My angsty, not quite what I wanted it to be, Thanksgiving contribution. I think my next move with Thalia is to do a little thing about how she and her husband met. I dropped hints about who he might be in this one. Did anyone pick up?

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!