18. Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
B y the time Thanksgiving week rolls around, Brooks has slowly chipped away at my hesitations one swing of the ax at a time.
Leaves a note on my door with his reflections on the thoughts I shared in small group that week? Whack .
Emails me a digital gift card to Raelynn’s for coffee? Whack .
Scrapes the ice off the windshield of my car before my early Friday morning Bible study? Whack .
Continues sending goofy dance trend videos? Whack, whack, whack.
He’s turned his full-court press hashtag into a way of life.
I spend the drive to KC for Thanksgiving with the music turned off, something I never, ever do. But I need some time to vocalize my many thoughts to God, hoping to untangle the thread to the right path forward.
“Okay, God. I really need you to shoot me straight here. I don’t know how much longer I can stumble through the confusion. My heart is getting too tangled, too wound up with anxious energy. Brooks did everything wrong in high school, but now he’s doing everything right. I can see the evidence of how you’ve changed him. I see the way he loves you, the way your love is guiding how he lives. He’s apologized for the past. And I believe his sincerity.”
I smile as I think about the Bible verse he texted me this morning, saying it reminded him of something I said during small group. Little did he know that Psalm 16 is one of my favorites.
“He’s doing everything right to show me that he cares about me now. That he wants a relationship again. But I’m still so scared. I guess that’s what it really comes down to . . . I’m afraid of losing him again. If I let him back into my life in that way, and it doesn’t work out for one reason or another—how will I survive that?”
I exhale. “I mean, I know I’d survive, I suppose. But I don’t want to experience that kind of agony ever again. It feels like Brooks is uniquely designed to make or break my heart.
“He said he’s been trying to earn his way back to me, and I know that’s not how forgiveness works. That’s not how your grace works. But I also know that forgiving him for the past doesn’t necessarily mean we have to have that kind of relationship again.”
I sigh. “But I think I might want that kind of relationship with him again. Am I playing with fire by chasing after something I want even if it might burn me a second time?”
There’s nothing but silence surrounding me in the car, but my heart also feels surrounded by a peace I haven’t felt since seeing Brooks again. I don’t exactly know what it means yet, but I sense God’s command. “Don’t be afraid. I am with you.”
“Help me not walk in fear,” I whisper.
On Thanksgiving morning, I shower and put on a navy floral dress that’s the perfect combination of comfy and cute. By the time I head downstairs, my mom is already there, dressed in a blouse and dress pants with an apron secured over the top. She greets me as I pour a cup of coffee.
We chat while I eat an English muffin and drink my coffee, then Mom tosses me a second apron. “We’d better get to work if we’re going to have everything ready by noon,” she tells me. The counters are already covered with an array of Thanksgiving feast ingredients. None of my grandparents live in town, so it will just be my parents and me this year.
“Why are we eating at lunch this year instead of dinner like normal?” I ask, tying the strings of my apron .
Mom’s brow furrows, but I can’t tell if it’s because of my question or the can opener protesting in her hands. She reattaches it to the top of the can of green beans, and this time, it turns without a problem.
“Your dad asked if we could eat earlier this year, and I didn’t mind. This way, we could go down to the Plaza for their Christmas lighting ceremony, if you want,” she says.
My eyes brighten. “Yes! I’d love to do that!” I start humming as I wrap sweet potatoes in foil. The ping of my phone pulls my attention away, and I open my text messages, only to find a novel from Brooks.
brOOKS
Happy Thanksgiving, Sneaks. Things I was thankful for about high-school-Teegan: 1) The way you relish life with enthusiasm. 2) Your smile that could turn any bad day around. 3) Your willingness to go along with any of my crazy ideas spur of the moment. 4) Your killer dance moves. 5) The way I could be goofy but also be serious around you, and you liked both versions of me. Not just the fun-loving one.
Before I’ve even finished reading the first text, more come through.
brOOKS
Things I’m thankful for about now-Teegan: 1) All of the above. 2) The way your love for Jesus influences every relationship in your life. 3) Your loyalty to your friends. The depth of your friendships speaks to your character. 4) The way your thoughtfulness about the Bible passages we discuss each week challenges me to think more deeply. 5) Your forgiveness. Even if we’re never more than friends, I’m so grateful that you forgave my idiocy. But also, I absolutely want to be more than friends, in case that’s been unclear till now.
Also, your enthralling eyes and dazzling smile that I fall asleep thinking about every night
Have I mentioned your laugh yet? Because it’s a song with so many remixes, I’ll never get tired of hearing it
monkey covering eyes emoji
I’m cooking with my mom and was entirely unprepared for this onslaught of compliments
brOOKS
I warned you, Teegan. Full-court press. Better start being perpetually prepared for compliment ambushes
I know I’m blushing as I grin at my phone.
“What’s all this smiling over?” my mom asks.
Flustered, I hide my phone behind my back like a teenager. Real smooth. Not suspicious at all.
Mom’s eyes narrow at me.
“Um, just a ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ text from a friend,” I evade, turning back to the sweet potatoes.
“Uh-huh,” Mom responds. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her lean a hand on the counter next to me. Her fingers start drumming against the counter, and it only takes two seconds for my willpower to lose patience.
“It’s possible the friend might have been Brooks,” I say, then bite my lip.
Her fingers still.
“That smile looked like more than friends, hon,” Mom observes quietly. I put the foil down and turn to face her.
“Maybe? But maybe not?” I reply, then sigh. “It’s up to me to decide.”
“ Hmmm ,” Mom hums. “And when are you supposed to decide this by?”
“I have as much time as I need,” I answer. I quickly add, “I guess I don’t know how to know, you know?”
Mom nods thoughtfully and turns back to mixing up the green bean casserole. “You know I loved Brooks right up until . . .” She trails off. I never told her the precise reason that Brooks ended things. I didn’t really tell anyone.
Mom clears her throat and places a hand on mine. “But I love you most. The full you. I don’t want to see the flattened photocopy version of my daughter who roamed around here for so long after things ended with him.”
I’m stunned. “I didn’t think you . . . I thought I . . .”
She raises an eyebrow. “You thought you hid how devastated you were? You probably did fool most people, but I’m your mother, honey. I know my daughter. And that shadow wasn’t my daughter. Not for a long time.”
I’m quiet, unsure what to say. Do I come to Brooks’ defense, explain all the ways he’s different now, even though I’m scared of the exact thing that she voiced?
“I trust your judgment, sweetheart. You’re fun-loving and lighthearted at first glance, but there’s so much depth and maturity to you. I know you’ll do the right thing for your heart,” Mom says, squeezing my hand. “I’m on Team Teegan no matter what.”
I lean forward to give her a short hug, mumbling, “Thanks, Mom.” Then, I quickly change the subject to ask how Logan is doing. We continue chatting and working side by side until everything is in the oven.
A little before noon, the doorbell rings, pricking my heart. Even though it’s been years, I’ve never quite gotten used to my dad ringing the doorbell at the house he used to live in. The house that sheltered us as a family unit for most of my life.
“Hi, Dad!” I exclaim when I open the door.
“There’s my girl!” he responds, wrapping me up in a hug. His tan sweater and navy pants give him a very dignified look, especially coupled with the addition of facial hair.
“A beard, huh? That’s new!” I observe, and his hand rubs against the hair on his jaw. Nervously.
Weird .
“Yeah, trying something different,” he responds before his dark eyes crinkle at the edges. “You look beautiful today. Not surprising when you’ve looked beautiful every day of your life.”
I roll my eyes. “You have to say that—I share your genes.”
“Nah, you got your good looks from your mom,” he replies, hanging up his coat on the rack by the door. “Speaking of!” he says, looking behind me .
Mom sidles up to us at that moment. “Happy Thanksgiving! Good to see you, Morgan.”
They give each other a hug before we head back to the kitchen. I help my mom pull dishes out of the oven, whispering under my breath, “Can we not mention anything about Brooks to Dad?”
She gives me a wink and purses her lips. I have a feeling she would have mimed zipping them shut if her hands weren’t laden with hot pads and a casserole dish.
While we eat, I catch my parents up on the semester. I also share how uplifting my church small group has been (conveniently leaving out Brooks). Mom shares a story from work this week about how she solved the problem when her boss double-booked two important appointments. I smile as she shares because it’s so evident that she’s thriving in this position.
“Any more raises since September?” I ask coyly, knowing Mom will be too humble to brag about herself.
Her cheeks pinken. “Not since September. Although, my boss did say I’d be getting a significant end-of-year bonus, so we’ll see what that translates to.”
“That’s fantastic, Reagan,” my dad says after swallowing a bite of ham. “Good for you.”
Mom blushes again, and my eyes dart back and forth at the lingering look between them.
“So, Dad, we were talking about going down to the Plaza to watch the Christmas lighting tonight. Would you want to come with us?” I ask, hoping he’ll join.
“Oh, um, I don’t think I’ll be able to, Teegan. Thanks for including me though.” He coughs, then takes a sip of water.
Logan interrupts the moment by calling my mom on her Echo Show, so we virtually seat him at the table to catch up. He’s all smiles as he talks about the fish he and his buddies have been catching, and I can imagine the fish smell from here. Yuck .
The rest of the day passes by smoothly. I manage to avoid mentioning Brooks around my dad, and Mom doesn’t bring it up for discussion again. Even though she would have had the perfect opportunity in the car on the way to the Plaza, or during the long walk from our parking place to the retail buildings. We arrive with enough time to grab hot chocolate to warm our hands before joining the countdown.
“We should do this every year!” I announce on our walk back to the car. “That was magical to see the lights and be around so many happy people! Too bad Dad couldn’t have come—he would have loved it too.”
“What’s not to love?” Mom responds quietly. “Perhaps we’ve stumbled upon a new Thanksgiving Day tradition.”
Later that night, I’m bundled up in bed with my coziest pajamas and blankets. I unlock my phone, staring at the text threads. I’ve already messaged several times with Lana and Amaya today—Amaya is in Wichita with her mom, while Lana and Mateo stayed in D.C. this year. They’ll be in Michigan with his family for Christmas, which means I don’t know the next time I’ll see Lana in person. It makes me sad, but also grateful that she came to my birthday party. Which leads me back to Brooks.
I click open his text thread, contemplating what to say. How much to say. If I should even say anything .
Was busy all day, but thank you for all your kind words this morning. I’m grateful that you wound up in Brooklyn and walked through the door of Joy and Caleb’s house
Seconds later, the three dots start bouncing.
brOOKS
I’ll never stop thanking God that I got to walk through that door