Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Mom
I know this isn’t easy, but thank you for saying yes to dinner.
I fight the wave of emotion. Our relationship has shifted over the past weeks. We’ve always been allies, but she’s anchored firmly in the mom role lately, and I need that from her. Especially today.
Tally
I’ll be up in a few minutes.
Mom
I’ll be here with a hug when you’re ready.
I take another deep breath before I leave the safety of my car. I’m anxious, I miss dinners with my family, and I’m scared of this new normal. I can’t get used to this if I don’t try, though. And I can’t get past my anger at my dad if I don’t give him a chance, either.
My heart lurches when I reach my dad’s apartment. I don’t have a key, so I have to knock. Two seconds later, he opens the door, beaming. “I’m so glad you could make it.” He envelops me in a hug.
“Me, too.” I’m suddenly choked up. I’ve been hiding from all these feelings, burying myself in school, focusing on my relationship with Flip so I don’t have to manage this. I pat his back as I look over the space behind him. The new living room set looks like it belongs in a university apartment ad.
He releases me and steps back, giving me room to come inside.
“You finally got your recliner, huh?”
He grins sheepishly, but his eyes are sad. “No one to stop me.”
“I bet you’re in your glory during the nightly news,” I joke, even as my heart squeezes. My mom always said recliners were hideous and belonged in retirement homes and man caves. She wasn’t wrong.
“It is comfortable.” Dad shrugs. “Your brother and sister fight over it every time they stay the night.”
It’s not meant as a dig, but it still pricks my heart. I’m sure he’d rather have his family back than a recliner, but he can’t change the past, and he’s right; my mom deserves a chance at real happiness, even if it’s with someone else. If I keep putting up walls, I’ll never be part of the whole, and I don’t want to be on the outside, always looking in.
“Once exams are finished, maybe I can fight over it with them.” It’s the only way to heal.
“Whenever you’re ready.” Dad nods. “I know it’s been tough.”
“It has,” I agree.
He inclines his head. “Come on in. You’ll be happy to hear that tonight’s meal was made by Rix.”
“Oh wow! That’s great! She’s amazing.” Rix mentioned that my dad had started ordering from her a couple of weeks ago. He’s always been good on the barbecue. It’s everything else that’s probably a challenge. “And you can’t really live on burgers and sausage.”
“They get old fast.”
“So does ramen and avocado toast.”
“But two easy things I can add to my repertoire when I don’t have Rix-made meals on hand.” We enter the kitchen where the rest of my family preps dinner. “Look who’s here!”
“Tally!” Fenna abandons the salad and rushes over to hug me.
It’s good to be together like this, but it also makes my heart feel like it’s in a blender. The kitchen is too white, the dishes too new, the space too foreign. I made it this way by avoiding dinners, though.
I squeeze my sister tightly. “I missed you.”
“Same. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me, too,” I whisper.
“It’s weird at first, but it gets better.” That my sister is reassuring me instead of the other way around tells me she’s in a better place about this.
When Fenna releases me, Ties steps in and gives me a quick hug. “Real glad you came, sis.”
“Same, same.” Even if it is awkward.
Mom is the last to hug me. She doesn’t say anything, just wraps her arms around me on a soft sigh.
“It’s nice to be all together like this,” Dad says.
“It is,” Mom agrees, but her smile is a little tight.
“Ties, can I get your help with the steaks?” Dad asks.
“Yeah, for sure.” Ties sets his knife down and follows my dad, carrying the seasoning and tongs.
“I want to check the corn to make sure it’s not getting charred!” Fenna follows them to the balcony.
“How is this really for you?” I ask my mom. It’s a hard habit to break.
“You have to cut your dad some slack, Tallulah,” she says gently.
“I’m here. It’s progress.”
She nods, her smile sad. “I know your instinct is to side with me, and I love your loyalty, but I think it’s a little misplaced, honey.”
“He was never home,” I argue.
“You’re right, he wasn’t. But I never told him I needed more from him. I said everything was fine, that I didn’t mind, that I knew how important his job was. I never told him I wasn’t happy. He believed we were okay because I told him we were.”
My stomach bottoms out and everything tilts. “But why would you do that if you weren’t happy?”