12. Chapter 12 #2
He doesn’t look convinced. His eyes drop to my left hand, and I realize too late that I’m still not wearing my engagement ring. He gave it back to me the evening after our fight, but I wasn’t able to bring myself to put it back on.
“You’re not wearing your ring,” he mumbles.
I withdraw my hand. “Oh. I forgot to put it back on after washing dishes this morning.”
We both know it’s a lie. I haven’t worn it in days.
“Would you…” His voice catches. “Would you wear it again? Please? It would make me feel better.”
The request hangs between us, loaded with meaning neither of us wants to examine too closely. I should say no. Be honest. Tell him I’m already planning my escape.
Instead, I say, “Of course,” and walk to the bedroom to retrieve it.
The ring slides onto my finger easily enough.
In the mirror above our dresser, I glimpse myself, smiling, pretty, wearing a ring that once meant everything and now feels like a shackle.
I barely recognize this version of me, this woman who says yes when she means no, who swallows her pain to make others comfortable.
When I return to the kitchen, Adam’s relief is palpable. He kisses me desperately. He doesn’t understand that it’s too late for flowers and pot roast and please-wear-your-ring. The damage isn’t in what he’s done; it’s in what he hasn’t done, over and over, since the day we arrived in this town.
* * *
“Adam?” I call into the bedroom a few days later. “We’re going to be late.”
The weekly family dinner at the Kelley’s house has long been my personal form of torture.
Tonight feels especially daunting, the first one since Adam announced he’s going on the cruise without me.
I brace myself as we pull into the driveway, the pumpkins and harvest decorations mocking me with their picture-perfect domesticity.
Paula opens the door before we knock, her smile tight around the edges when she sees me. “There you are! We were starting to worry.” She hugs Adam first, then offers me a brief, perfunctory embrace that barely qualifies as physical contact.
The house smells of roast chicken and cinnamon, the table already set with Paula’s best china. Hailey is transferring mashed potatoes into a serving bowl, her smile widening when she sees her brother.
“The cruise crew is all here!” she exclaims, giving Adam a hug. Her eyes flick to me, then away. “Mom was just talking about the excursions we’ve booked. There’s a snorkeling trip that sounds amazing.”
“Sounds fun,” I say brightly, as if the reminder that I’m not included doesn’t sting. “I bet the water’s beautiful there this time of year.”
Paula and Hailey exchange a look. I pretend not to notice.
Lauren gives me a sympathetic smile as she takes a pan of cinnamon rolls out of the oven. “It’s too bad you couldn’t get the time off, Caitlin.”
“Yes,” Paula says, her voice dripping with false sympathy, “maybe next time we can plan further ahead so you can join us. Though the holidays are so special with family.”
The emphasis on “family” isn’t subtle. Neither is the implication that I’m not part of it.
“Absolutely,” I agree, my smile unwavering. “Family is everything.”
My cheerful agreement seems to throw Paula off-balance. She’s used to my polite but obvious hurt, my attempts to assert myself as Adam’s fiancée. This new, agreeable version of me clearly unsettles her.
“Adam mentioned you might have to work over Thanksgiving anyway,” she continues, probing for a reaction.
“It’s going to be busy,” I agree cheerfully, taking my seat. “Did you know Rosie’s sells hundreds of pies in the days leading up to Thanksgiving? Sometimes the lines stretch clear out the door. We might be just a diner, but people in Mount Pella sure love our pies.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Paula says with a tight smile, sipping at her wine. “I’ve always baked my own pies.”
“And I bet they’re delicious.”
“I do feel sorry for you,” Hailey butts in, “all alone on Thanksgiving. If you want, I can ask the parents of some of my friends if you can join them for dinner. I know a few families that are always welcoming strays.”
“Hailey!” Adam barks, half rising in his chair, frustration clear in his face and voice.
“What? I’m trying to be nice.”
“She’s not a fucking stray, she’s my fiancée.”
“Adam Kelley! You know better than to use that kind of language in this house!” Paula snaps, her face going red. “I raised you better than that!”
“Sorry, Mom,” Adam mumbles, dropping back into his seat and rubbing his face with one hand.
I wait a moment and then turn to Hailey. “It’s really sweet of you to worry about me, but I will be fine. I have an invitation for Thanksgiving dinner, so no worries about me being alone.”
Adam’s head whips toward me. “You never mentioned that.”
I shrug, “You didn’t ask.”
“Who is it? Do I know them?”
“A friend from work,” I say, the lie coming to me easily. “I don’t believe you’ve met them.”
Things get quiet and awkward for a moment after that.
Gerald looks confused. Lauren and Jake look as if they’d rather be anywhere else.
Paula’s eyes are narrowed, sensing something she can’t quite identify.
Adam looks slightly panicked, caught between confusion about where and who I’ll be with on Thanksgiving and worry about what else I might say.
Hailey just looks like she is relishing the drama.
“Well,” Gerald says finally, trying desperately to regain some control of the evening, “our dinner is going to get cold if we don’t dig in.”
Dinner itself is an exercise in passive aggression.
Paula mentions the cruise at every opportunity, describing the cabin arrangements (Adam has his own, we don’t want you to worry about that), the special Thanksgiving dinner the cruise will host (Millie bought a new dress specially), and how Rhonda is so grateful for Adam’s support.
Each time, I respond with enthusiastic interest, asking questions about the itinerary and suggesting activities they might enjoy. My persistent cheerfulness visibly frustrates Paula, who keeps glancing at Hailey as if to say, “What’s wrong with her?”
Adam attempts to change the subject repeatedly, bringing up neutral topics like his father’s golf game or the new businesses going in downtown. But Paula and Hailey circle back to the cruise like sharks scenting blood, waiting for me to finally crack.
I don’t give them the satisfaction.
“It’s so good that Adam will be there for Millie,” I say when Paula mentions for the third time how emotional the holiday will be for the Greenes. “She needs someone stable in her life right now. Someone who understands her history.”
Paula blinks momentarily speechless. Even she can’t argue with my apparent selflessness. Adam, however, looks increasingly miserable, pushing food around his plate and downing his wine too quickly.
By the time we leave, Paula and Hailey are both visibly annoyed by their failure to provoke me, and Adam is a bundle of nerves. The drive home is silent until we pull into the apartment parking lot.
“What’s going on with you?” he finally asks, turning off the engine but making no move to get out of the car. “And don’t tell me ‘nothing’ again.”
I look out the window at the apartment we’ve shared for months but that’s never really felt like home. “I’m just trying to be supportive,” I say. “Isn’t that what you want?”
“Not like this.” His voice cracks with frustration. “Not when it feels like you’re mocking me.”
“How am I mocking you? I’m giving you exactly what you asked for, understanding about Millie, about the cruise, about your family’s needs. I’m putting everyone else first, just like you do.”
He flinches as if I’ve slapped him. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” I turn to face him fully. “Name one time since we moved here that you’ve put me first. One time you’ve stood up to your mother for me. That you’ve chosen what I needed over what everyone else wanted from you.”
His silence is answer enough.
* * *
The days until his departure pass in a blur of artificial normalcy. I go through the motions, making meals, watching TV beside him, saying all the right things, while finalizing my escape plan.
There isn’t much to take. I’d been traveling for years before I met Adam, so I honestly just don’t own much. Most of the furniture in our apartment is all from Ikea. The kitchenware and dishes came from the thrift store. We bought it all together when we moved in, and I’m leaving it all behind.
The car I drive is in Adam’s name. He bought it for me in Colorado, when the beater I was driving died and I wasn’t able to afford a replacement. I’m leaving it behind. I won’t give Paula any excuse to call me a gold digger or say I stole from her son.
The only thing that will truly hurt to leave behind is the cherry-wood coffee Adam made me for my birthday that last year in Colorado. It had felt like a sign that I’d finally found my home, my person. Now it’s just a reminder of everything we’d never have.
On the morning Adam leaves for the cruise, he stands next to his luggage in the living room, looking lost. He hasn’t been sleeping well, and it’s clear in the dark circles beneath his eyes.
It’s so early the sun hasn’t even risen yet.
Hailey will drive him and Millie to the airport, and he’s just waiting for her to arrive.
“Are we okay, Caitlin?” he asks, and I almost laugh at the absurdity of the question.
“Do you honestly think we are okay, Adam?” My voice is soft, all the false cheerfulness of the past weeks gone.
He crosses to me, taking my hands in his and running his thumb over the ring that still sits on the finger of my left hand. “I’ll make it okay when I get back,” he promises. “Things will be better. I promise.”
I have nothing to say to this, and for a moment we just stand there, staring at each other. We both startle when Hailey’s car horn honks, announcing her arrival.
Adam kisses me goodbye and turns, picking up his luggage.
For a moment at the door he stops and hesitates, looking back at me.
He seems genuinely torn, and later, I would wonder what would have happened if he’d stayed.
If in that last moment, he’d chosen me after all.
How different would our paths have been?
But Hailey honks again, and the moment is broken.
He turns and leaves. I watch from the window as the car disappears down the street and then collapse on the couch, giving myself over to the pain.
But crying solves nothing, and so eventually I force myself up. I have my own flight to catch after all. I shower and dress. It takes less than an hour to finish packing. My clothes and toiletries fit in two suitcases, and I’m taking nothing else with me.
The last thing I do is remove my engagement ring and the little silver medallion that was also a birthday present.
I place them both by the framed photo of us in Colorado, smiling, sunburned, his arms around me as we stand atop a mountain we’d climbed together.
“Home is where you are” is what is engraved on the back of my medallion.
Adam Kelley is no longer my home. He’s chosen someone else.
I don’t leave a note. Everything I needed to say, I’ve already said. He just wasn’t listening.
* * *
The airport is a nightmare of Thanksgiving travelers, harried parents, crying children, and lines that snake endlessly through the terminal.
My flight is delayed, then delayed again.
I should be frustrated, but I feel oddly calm.
For the first time in months, I’m moving toward something instead of away from it.
When the plane finally takes off, I watch Iowa disappear beneath me, growing smaller and smaller until it’s nothing but a memory.
Hours later, as the plane begins its descent into Portland, my heart starts to race. By the time we land, I’m a mess of emotions — relief, fear, excitement, grief.
And then I’m walking through the terminal, wheeling my suitcases, scanning the crowd. I spot them before they see me — Uncle Peter’s tall frame and graying beard, Aunt Charlene’s soft blue pantsuit and white cardigan in sharp contrast to Rachel’s vivid floral dress. My family.
For a minute I freeze. What if they’re angry with me for the way I left so soon after Grandma’s funeral? I’d been terrified of being the burden my mother always claimed I was, and so I’d left, afraid that if I didn’t, they would have asked me to leave.
Then Peter sees me, and his face splits into a huge grin. He moves through the crowds, and before I know it, I’m enveloped in his arms.
“She’s home, Charlene,” I hear him mutter hoarsely, as my aunt and cousin catch up to him. “Our girl is finally home.”