Read my work: Influence (Thanksgiving short story)

Hi friends!

Below is a short story titled Influence that I submitted in November 2023 to a Reedsy weekly writing contest. I had just started writing a few months prior and was seeking feedback before diving into studying writing mechanics. I was equally shocked and thrilled when Influence was shortlisted and received some positive feedback. I have added a few screenshots of peer feedback for Influence the end of the story.

The prompt that inspired Influence was: Your family’s holiday dinners always end with everyone at each other’s throats. This Thanksgiving, you’re determined to keep a low profile, but your patience is being put to the test. In the story, you will meet sisters Claire and Charlotte, who don’t quite see eye to eye on what it means to spend quality time together. This story is not meant to criticize anyone, and was more of a reminder to myself about what is most important in life.

Enjoy Influence, and please leave a comment telling me if you are more of a Claire or Charlotte.

Thanksgiving dinner has literally ended in bloodshed the past two years running, so when my older sister Claire suggested that we wear red for the big family photo, I applauded her ingenuity. If someone bleeds, it’ll blend in, and we can power through as if nothing happened. How genius! 

This new tradition started in 2021 when our estranged Uncle Allen showed up to dinner unannounced and, after polishing off more than half of the mulled wine, promptly walked face-first into the sliding glass door. Mom had to stop cooking and take him to the ER, which pushed back the meal and canceled the family photo. While the rest of us found amusement in the whole debacle, Claire was not pleased. The setback ruined her planned post on Instagram, and there’s no telling how many of her followers nights were ruined by not seeing our family photo and her artfully arranged plate of food.

The tradition continued last year when Claire’s husband Nathan, in a spasm of holiday cheer, spontaneously lifted their son, Jaxon, high up in the air and straight into the ceiling fan. Once again, dinner was delayed by a trip to the ER, and the family photo was canceled. Little Jaxon got a few stitches in his eyebrow and was able to return home that night, but Claire was furious with Nathan that her planned post was derailed a second year in a row. Fortunately for Nathan, Claire saw the potential in sharing a photo of Jaxon’s small wrist with a medical bracelet and a vague caption. When it produced a massive amount of engagement, he was promptly forgiven for his mistake.

Although I do not particularly admire or respect Claire’s social media career, I cannot deny that she is tenacious. And with two years of mishaps in a row, she’s not going to let anything get in the way of her holiday content this year, so heaven help anyone who gets in her way. Theres an old saying: Third times a charm. Or is it that bad things come in threes? Either way, I am committed to laying low this year. I am excited to see my dad and Jaxon because the joy I feel being with them is always enough to sustain me through whatever foolishness Claire or our mother have planned for the occasion.

I smile as I pull into the driveway and see Dad sitting on the porch, but my stomach drops when I get a closer look at him. His hair has grown back in, the first time he’s had any in years. It’s thin and wild in the breeze. Next to him is a shiny silver tank, and I can just make out the plastic looped over his ears.

I lock the car and head up the driveway with the green bean casserole in one arm- and a flask of Jack Daniels tucked under the other. He rises from the seat and pulls me in tight for a hug. The sweater layered over his dress shirt isn’t thick enough to conceal his sharp shoulder blades and collarbone, but we won’t speak of it. It’s not our way. Instead, he holds me in the embrace a bit longer than usual, acknowledging the words left unsaid.

“Hey Charlotte, how are ya?” he asks, reaching for the flask and wasting no time raising it to his lips.

“Oh, you know…” I shrug, glancing at the oxygen tank beside him and the cane leaning against the wall.

Dad swallows with a sigh of appreciation and inclines the flask back toward me. I wave him off, but he cocks an eyebrow. “I saw your sister unload a ring light and tripod from the car earlier.”

He offers the flask again, and this time I accept. The burn rises up my neck and face, and the front door opens just as I sputter a cough, revealing my mom and Claire. Mom sees my flushed cheeks and frowns, and Claire does a brazen once over of my outfit. She is in stilettos and a dress that cinches her waist in so tightly there’s no way she will be able to eat while wearing it. My red sweater, jeans, and flats are frumpy in comparison. Judging by the approval I see in her eyes, I know I’ve hit the mark. I look good enough to be in the family pictures, but not good enough to steal the spotlight. I smile to myself for having gotten it right this year.

“Couldn’t come early to help us cook, huh sis?” Claire says, waving Dad and me inside.

“Sorry,” I say, because admitting I’d rather burn myself on a hot oven than spend extra time with her and my mom seemed like a bad way to start the holiday.

“I’ll take that,” Mom says, frowning as she casserole the dish from my hands and inspects it. “Jaxon is in the living room. He’s been waiting for you to watch the parade with him.”

The mention of my nephew gets me back on track, and I stride past the three of them through the long foyer.

My brother in law, Nathan, sits next to Jaxon on the leather sectional, not looking away from the football game to acknowledge my arrival. But when Jaxon spots me, he rips off his headphones and throws his tablet aside to launch himself into my arms.

“I missed you so much, Aunt Charlotte!” he says, squeezing me tightly around the neck with his small arms. When I release him, he laces his fingers with mine and waves toward Dad to follow us down the hallway.

Jaxon patiently waits for my dad to catch up, and closes the door tightly behind us. He jumps on the bed, taking his spot in the middle, as I attempt to help Dad situate his oxygen tank. He swats my hands away, and Jaxon works diligently to get the parade recording pulled up on the TV. The entire family used to watch the parade together as a tradition, but over the years it’s dwindled to just us three. We like it better this way.

“How many big ballons do you think will be in the parade this year, Jaxon?” I ask, settling into my spot and extending an arm for him to settle into my side.

He pulls his brows together, and my dad and I exchange a smile at his look of deep concentration. After so many years, the parade is no longer particularly exciting to watch, but experiencing it though Jaxon’s eyes gives it new life.

“Last year there were 23, so I’m hoping for 24.”

“Me too, bud,” Dad says, handing him the notebook and pencil to keep tally.

The next few hours pass by quickly, and too soon, dinner is announced. We trudge back out to join the others and take our places at the elegantly decorated dining room table. Dad and I exchange another look as we spot a cell phone attached to a tripod at one end of the table. Unsurprisingly, Claire guides us to our seats so that she, Nathan, Jaxon, and Mom are in the prime spots for filming, and Dad and I are at the end of the table, farthest from the camera. Settling in across from Dad and next to Jaxon, I have never been more thankful to be among the least photogenic members of our family.

“Looks like everyone is in frame…” Claire says, standing behind the tripod. I look around the table to gauge everyone’s reaction but no one else seems to care. I catch Mom using her phone camera to check her teeth for lipstick, and make a face when I see her lips are painted with fire engine red lipstick.

“We’ll be going around and saying what we’re each thankful for, okay? So stick to the script and this will be quick and painless.” Claire smiles at everyone but me before taking her seat.

“I’m sorry. Did you say to stick to the script?” I ask, confused.

Claire sighs and briefly closes her eyes. “Yes, Charlotte. I knew you wouldn’t take any suggestions, but I made it easy for everyone else and planned some dialogue for the video.”

My stomach sours as I imagine what curated sentiments I am about to hear when she hits record. She’s right, I would not have taken any of her suggestions, although I doubt that mentioning I’m thankful for being Jaxon’s aunt would have been met with resistance. But with Claire, you never know.

“Ready?” she asks, this time looking in my direction.

When I nod, she hits the record button and settles back in her seat, snapping her fingers to grab Nathan’s attention. He pauses the football game playing loudly on his phone and puts it in his lap, just out of view of the camera.

“I am thankful to have a job that allows me to be present with my family,” Claire says, smiling sweetly around the table.

I quickly turn my head away from the camera so that it doesn’t catch my gigantic eyeroll.

“I’m thankful for my smoking-hot wife!” Nathan adds. Claire throws her head back and laughs in a girlish way that gives Nathan the space to playfully lean over and bite her neck. She smacks him gently and beams for the camera. The move is so smooth that it reeks of a choreographed number.

Jaxon is next. “I’m thankful for all of the healthy food I am going to eat!” He waves his little arms over the table at the beautiful spread that is surely getting cold during this charade, and then makes a cheeky grin to the camera. This time I’m unable to hide my reaction. Even though the lie is harmless, I have to fight to control the anger that is rising in my chest. Back in the kitchen is a freshly microwaved plate of dino nuggets for Jaxon. We’ll be lucky if we can get him to take even one bite of anything on the table other than a Hawaiian roll. Jaxon doesn’t like “healthy food.” Or turkey. Or cranberry sauce. Jaxon only likes dino nuggets.

All eyes turn to me, but I’m still stunned. Why would she have him say that? There are so many other things that he could have said that were true. Is it some weird flex that I don’t know about to not let your kids eat dino nuggets on Thanksgiving? Who would even care?

When its become clear that I’m not going to speak, Claire’s plastered smile falls.

“Okay, cut,” she huffs, pushing away from the table to stop the recording.

Jaxon turns to me, his face etched with concern.

“Do you need help with what you are going to say, Aunt Charlotte?”

“No, Jax.” I reply, smoothing his hair back from his forehead and noticing the faint scar from last Thanksgiving on his eyebrow. “I was going to explain that I’m thankful to be your auntie. I just wasn’t ready yet,” sparing him from what I really think about this ridiculous charade.

“Let’s try one more time, ready?” Claire asks, again looking only in my direction. I nod, and in a near-perfect reenactment, Claire and Nathan restate their lines, the bite and the playful slap.

Jaxon repeats his lie, and the table turns to me again. I open my mouth to speak, then close it.

Just say it, I think to myself.

I open my mouth, but the words are stuck in my throat again. I turn my gaze to Jaxon, hoping that if I focus on him, the words will come. His eyes flash with panic when no sound leaves my mouth.

Claire slams her fist on the table and everyone jumps. She shoots up, clattering the plates and silverware around her. “What the hell, Charlotte?”

“I’m sorry,” I say through gritted teeth, hoping I can diffuse the situation for Jaxon’s sake.

“Why are you so committed to making my life miserable?” Claire accuses.

I scoff at the irony of the question, which only intensifies her rage.

“Let me handle this, Claire,” Mom says, her eyes apologetic as she turns her makeup-caked face to me. Surprisingly, her voice is soft when she addresses me. “I know this is hard, sweetie. It’s hard for me sometimes, too.”

I’m not sure what I expected her to say, but commiserating was at the bottom of the list of possibilities. Mom is always on Claire’s side, so this is completely new. My shoulders drop in relief. “Yeah, thank you, Mom. It really is—”

“—And it’s only natural to feel jealous of your sister.”

I recoil as if I’ve been slapped by the words. “Jealous?” I ask, incredulously. My blood is now boiling as I balk at the insinuation that any part of Claire’s life is something I would want for myself. Every single mean thought I’ve ever had about Claire, Nathan, and my Mom rises up, ready to be hurled at them at a second’s notice. I want so badly to put them in their place, but I would never put them down in front of Jaxon like they have so often done to me.

Dad reaches out and places his hand atop of mine. I turn to meet his eyes as I struggle to control my breathing.

He shakes his head at me, eyes stating what I already know.

It won’t make a difference.

Nothing I say will ever change them.

And most of all, Jaxon doesn’t need to hear how rotten his parents and grandma are when there’s nothing I can do to save him from them. Hopefully one day he will see through them, but today will not be that day.

I let out a ragged sigh and turn back to Jaxon, giving him a quick kiss on the top of the head as I stand. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Take your time,” I hear Claire murmur as I walk away.

“Can we just film without her?” Mom suggests. I think that’s a great idea, but I’m too far away to hear Claire’s response.

I enter the guest bedroom and close the door behind me, sitting down on the bed. Frustration morphs into hot shame as I think about Jaxon. I should have done my part. If I had, I'd be sitting out there with him now, negotiating a trade of my marshmallow topping from the sweet potatoes for him to take a single bite of something green. Why couldn’t I just say that I was thankful to be Jaxon’s aunt so that we could move on with the night? He already has enough to deal with, and I always strive to be his safe place.

I let him down.

I wipe my eyes at the sound of a soft knock at the door, not willing to let Claire or Mom see my tears. Thankfully, it’s neither of them. Dad shuffles into the room and sits down next to me.

“I’m sorry Dad. I should have just said that I was thankful for Jaxon and let it go. I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

“I know,” he says, patting my leg. “But don’t be sorry. It’s good for them to get a little pushback now and again.” We both chuckle, and he continues. “As cliche as it sounds, one really does start to put things into perspective when they are at the end of their life,” he starts.

I nod, knowing where this is going.

“We put up with a lot for those we love. And we find joy in the little moments among the more tedious ones.”

He’s right, as usual. But it’s a bitter pill to swallow. “So we just let them be awful all the time? I hate that they make Jaxon lie to fit whatever narrative they are trying to push.”

He scratches his chin, choosing his words carefully. “I can promise you that nothing you do or say will ever change them—”

“—I know, I know,” I interrupt. “But—”

“—Charlotte, please let me finish.”

I cross my arms but give him my full attention.

“Nothing you do or say will ever change them,” he repeats, “but there’s a good chance Jaxon will turn out just fine anyway.”

“How do you know?” I ask, wishing that I believed he was right.

He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. “Because look at how great you turned out.”

I blink, taking in his words. Was my upbringing that similar to Jaxons?

The picture-perfect holidays of my childhood flash before me, not unlike the one happening back in the living room. Images of Mom making us go around the table to share what we were thankful for, her biggest smile always reserved for whatever Claire came up with. Memories of Mom being too busy with making the house look just right and cooking the perfect meal to sit down with Dad and me to watch the parade. After a while I just gave up on trying to be close with either of them, and life got better when I embraced what was instead of wishing for what could be. When I stopped trying to force it, the division of Mom and Claire versus Dad and me solidified, and we somehow got along better than ever. All of my best memories as a child were ones with my dad by my side, with some fun moments with mom and Claire among the tedious ones, just like dad said.

After giving me a minute to think, he spoke again. “We finished the silly video without you, so come back and eat with us. Let’s turn this around for Jaxon’s sake. The kid is like them, but he’s also a lot like us.”

Comforted by his words, I take a steadying breath and follow him back into the dining room. Jaxon beams as I take my seat next to him, and I reach over to steal a dino nugget when I see that all of the marshmallows are scraped off of my serving of sweet potato casserole. Jaxon’s giggle at being caught breaks the silence, and the group takes a collective sigh. Even if we have different approaches, each of us love Jaxon and want him to have a good Thanksgiving. He deserves a memorable holiday with his family, and if we can’t agree on anything else, we can at least agree on that.

One Year Later

Pulling up to my parents’ house is the same as last year, and I exit the car with green bean casserole in one hand and a flask in the other. Jaxon counts 26 balloons in the parade. We take turns going around the table to say how thankful we are, and we smile at the camera as Claire takes the family photo. But before my mom cuts the pie for dessert, I sneak out back with the flask and let a few tears fall, ones I’ve been holding back all night. Lifting the flask skyward, I make a quiet toast to my dad, wondering how I will be a light in Jaxon’s life, when dad was the light of mine.

“Who are you talking to, Aunt Charlotte?”

I wipe the tears and tuck the flask into my back pocket as Jaxon approaches.

“I was talking to Grandpa.”

He frowns. “I miss him.”

“Me too.”

We stand there for a while, and Jaxon joins me in looking up at the stars. “Is he listening?”

“Of course. Do you want to say something to him?”

He thinks hard, pulling his brows together in contemplation. After a moment he nods and says, “Grandpa, there were 26 balloons this year. And don’t worry, Aunt Charlotte and I are continuing all of our traditions forever and ever.”

He looks to me for approval and I give him a thumbs up; his statement perfectly complete without needing additional words of my own. Jaxon turns and holds out his hand for me to take, and I let him lead me back inside.

Thank you for reading, and happy Thanksgiving!

Some feedback for Influence

And a sweet note from my editor: Nikki, it’s such a lovely story: warm at the end and an almost perfect summation of what Thanksgiving should be, versus what it so often is. I think you have a good deal of success ahead of you if you continue to write stories like this one.

Thank you so much for reading!