Chapter 5
Lauren
“I’m telling you, there was a moment,” I tell Nic, putting my hands on my burning cheeks. Giddiness bubbles in my stomach as if I downed a bottle of champagne, though I’m sure that scenario would have a wildly worse outcome.
We’re walking from Henry’s clinic to Caleb’s. Leaves are blowing around our legs; the last few are clinging on to the otherwise bare branches in the town square on the other side of the road. Winter is near. I can almost taste it.
It’s the Monday after Thanksgiving, and I brought the kittens to Henry for a proper check-up with all his fancy equipment. Ultimately, he found nothing wrong with them. Just to make sure, he drew some blood to check for deficiencies or diseases, but he didn’t seem too worried.
“And you’re sure that wasn’t him being traumatized by the beacon you call your home?” Her lips twitch with amusement, and I shift the weight of the pet carrier in my arms.
“Positive.” I nod. “The moment he laid eyes on it, there was pure horror in his face. But that moment-” I tilt my head, grinning as I conjure up the memory.
He’d been so close. His eyes darted over my face before resting on my lips, inner turmoil raging in his eyes before he suddenly left. “Was definitely not that.”
“Good. That’s good.” She reaches for my arm and stops me right outside Caleb’s. “Now, do you want to tell me what killed your mood during Friendsgiving?”
Ah, fuck. Of course she’d notice. I almost forgot how much attention she pays when she doesn’t need to worry about her ex or her family.
“Let’s go. I’ll tell you inside.” I nod towards Caleb’s. She narrows her eyes at me, then marches ahead and holds the door open, pointing for me to go inside.
God, my cheeks could compete with damned lava as I enter. I nudge my face deeper into my scarf trying to hide.
“Hi Caleb!” Nic greets him cheerily. A lot more cheerfully than usual. That… meanie. She’s having a grand old time seeing me flustered.
All I can manage is to squeak a “Hi.”
His eyes dart to me. For a moment, I think I see something flicker in his eyes before. Then he nods at me and turns around to make our coffee with his usual poker face.
“Okay, now I’m buying that there was a moment,” Nic whispers, and now it’s my turn to shoot her a glare. “Not that I didn’t believe you.”
“Sure.” I roll my eyes, gently setting the pet carrier down at our usual table. "Now that Thanksgiving is over, I think he needs some Christmas decorations in here. The year-round coziness isn't helping me get into the festive spirit.”
“Not a chance,” Caleb shouts from the counter, and I narrow my eyes at him, even though he’s looking the other way.
“I’ll wear him down,” I whisper to Nic, who is shaking her head amusedly.
“So?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. Propping her head on one hand, she drums her fingers against the wooden tabletop. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll just show you.” I unlock my phone, pull up my screenshot gallery, then put it screen-up on the table and slide it her way. “Please. Go ahead and scroll through.”
The more she reads, the wider her eyes become. She glances up at me, her mouth agape. The same reaction I had internally as it all unfolded for me.
First, I saw Maisie’s post on Instagram. In it, she, her children and her husband were gathered around a giant turkey with a plethora of side dishes and corny decorations.
Which I have no issue with. What I do take issue with is the fact that I know those corny decorations. I’ve stared at them every Thanksgiving for as long as I can remember.
A swipe on her post revealed all of their smiling faces. Among them, my parents.
The same decorations. The same side dishes. Hell, my mom even wore the same jewelry as the past few Thanksgivings.
The only difference is that this year, I wasn’t invited.
“Thankful for family,” Nic reads the caption out loud, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Oh, it gets better. Go on, keep reading the lovely conversation we had in our group chat.”
Lauren: *Screenshot of Instagram Post*
Lauren: I take it my invitation was lost in the mail?
I don’t even know why I felt compelled to give them the benefit of the doubt. My mother was crystal clear in her announcement that they would not be available for Thanksgiving this year.
Mom: Don’t make a big thing out of this.
Dad: Debora and Frank were overseas for a fundraiser.
Mom: The kids deserved a proper Thanksgiving with family.
Lauren: What am I? Chopped liver?
Mom: Don’t be dramatic. We didn’t have enough space.
Lauren: Wow.
“Enough space?” Nic asks, shocked. “I can see three empty chairs in that picture they posted alone. Are you kidding me?”
“Nope,” I say, popping the ‘p’. “No joke here.”
Caleb appears next to our table and sets down our coffees. “Thanks, Caleb,” I say offhandedly, shyness from before completely forgotten.
“You’re welcome,” he replies gruffly and returns to his counter.
“I love that we don’t even have to order anymore.”
My eyes dart to Nic as she says it, then I rustle in my bag for the bottle that earns me a disapproving glare from Caleb.
“One day," Nic murmurs when he's out of earshot as I twist the bottle open, "he's going to stop serving us, and it's going to be your fault.”
“Please,” I scoff. “Don’t act as if I’m forcing you to drink it.”
"You're making it really tempting to join you; it's basically the same," Nic says, gesturing for me to hand her the bottle.
“Sorry, not sorry,” I shrug. “Anyway, that’s why I got bummed. But I’m over it now.”
“Are you?” She pours some syrup into her latte macchiato and gives me a skeptical once-over.
“You’re right.” I exhale a deep sigh, stirring the syrup into my coffee. “I’m not over it. I’m pissed. It’s one thing not to be invited, but it’s a completely different thing to be replaced.”
“Let me guess-” Nic clears her throat. “You thought that distance would help the relationship with your parents, but turns out it didn’t?” There’s no judgement in her voice, only deep understanding. Her eyes soften as I nod.
“Hoped would be the better term, I guess.”
“I know how that feels.” She reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “I’m sorry. They suck.”
“Thank you. They do.” I take a deep breath. “How did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Cut off contact with your parents.”
“I mean, them knowing my sister and fiancé had an affair did the trick of me never wanting to speak to them again.” She pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Is it crazy to say that I wish my parents would give me an opportunity like that to say ‘fuck it?’ A proper reason to cut them off.” I wave my phone through the air. “This was shitty, no doubt, but it’s not quite the territory that justifies disowning them, you know?”
“You don’t need a ‘proper reason,’ though,” Nic says softly, lifting her hands for air quotes.
“That’s the beauty of it. Nobody can stop you from making a cut.
If you dread even the thought of meeting them or your mood instantly drops if you only see their name on your phone screen, maybe it’s time.
” She gives my hand another squeeze. “I’m just saying. But I’m also very much biased.”
“Your bias helps, though,” I admit and take a sip of my coffee.
“You're the only person I know who has made the decision to cut their parents out of their life. It helps to hear your perspective.” I let out another deep sigh. “I don’t think I’m quite there yet.
Though I think it’s about time I prepared myself for the possibility. ”
“Well, if you want to talk about it, I’m there. Always.” She takes a sip of her coffee, ignoring my thankful smile. “When are you going back?”
I reach for my phone and scroll through my calendar. We moved here rather spontaneously, and I didn’t find buyers for my L.A. apartment in time. Now that there’s finally a buyer, I need to pack up my last items and either dispose of them or donate them.
“The end of next week.”
A soft ‘meow’ from the carrier grabs my attention.
“Oh, someone has woken up!” Nic grins and makes a grabbing motion towards me. “Come on. Let them out. I’m sure they can use some cuddling after that scary, scary visit to the vet.”
Carefully, I lift the carrier onto the empty chair next to me and pull the zipper on top open.
“Here you go.” I scoop Taytay, the white kitten, up and hand her over to Nic. Immediately, the small creature climbs up her beige knitted sweatshirt, little claws tangling in the stitches.
“Ugh, you’re so cute,” Nic mumbles, almost sounding disgusted with how adorable she finds this little cat. “God, I’m going to have to buy her a pink bow. She will look exactly like Marie from Aristocats.” She coos, followed by, “Your namesake is a genius; let’s see if you’ll live up to her name.”
“Don’t pressure my child! I named her after Taylor Swift because she’s got the same eye shape.” Nic stares at the cat, then shrugs.
“I don’t see it.”
“And you don’t need to,” I mumble. A loud and annoyed-sounding meow from the carrier makes me scoop up Jenna, the orange kitten, named after the queen of YouTube herself.
“Oh, you’ve got an attention-starved one, too.” Nic grins at me, and I press a kiss to the cat’s forehead.
“She’s not as bad as Pumpkin. Though I do suspect the two of them share a brain cell.
If you gaze deeply into her eyes, you might see it.
It’s probably rolling from left to right, drifting along aimlessly like a tumbleweed.
I can live with an attention-starved cat though, as long as she’s alright.
” Which, thankfully, both appear to be. “Maybe it’s Chaos’ way of making up for dying on you. ”
“Maybe.” Nic nods, reaching for her mug while stopping Taytay from escaping with her other hand.
“Anyway, now that Thanksgiving is over, we need to make some plans, Nic.”
“Oh, I’m all ears.” I rustle for a pen and notepad in the pockets of my coat, while making sure the cat doesn’t run off. “What mischief are we planning?”