"Oh, that's what you brought?"
Her tone made Ansley wince inside.
"I thought y'all wanted me to bring whipped cream."
She smiled, lifting the Cool Whip from the Kroger bag and regarding it sympathetically. "We did, but this will do."
A weighty loneliness settled itself into Ansley's chest.
(more) She thought of Gammy and Mama, the smells of peach cobbler baking and giblets frying and the turkey being smoked over a pile of damp
hickory chips. She missed shelling pecans in front of the fireplace while her brothers watched football and drank Budweisers.
Stanford was intimidating. In class, she felt behind and stupid. Here, at a Thanksgiving potluck with her new friends, she felt
humiliated by her Cool Whip, and she wasn't sure why.
(less)