Chapter 61 Poppy
M id January
Snow lightly falls, making my lashes stick together as Owen and I walk up the path to my parents’ house. Closing my eyes, I breathe in the cool air and try to let go of the tension I feel growing between him and me. This afternoon was rushed and I was hoping to talk more with him about where my head is at, but students stayed late to finish a test in his classroom and then we needed to head straight to this dinner with my family.
I haven’t made a decision yet and I know it is hurting him. It will hurt us more in the long run though if I side step this choice before I actually have figured out where my heart is on it. My heart sinks wondering if I’m dooming our relationship with taking my time to decide. You have to do this for you.
I am feeling stuck in this no-win situation. If I don’t take my time and figure this out on my own, I’ll always wonder if I was doing this for Owen or for myself. But with how things are going with me taking my time, it seems to be alienating Owen anyways.
My mom throws open the front door before we’re even to the stoop, making me jump a little in surprise. Instinctively, Owen reaches out to steady me, his hand on the small of my back to keep me upright. “Thank you,” I say, catching his other hand in my own. He gives it a squeeze before moving in front of me with a terse tensing of his face. This could be a rough dinner.
“Welcome,” my mom calls out to us, stepping to the side as we pass through. Walking into my childhood home is always a comforting feeling. The smells and the feel of being in the space always make me reminisce a bit. “Everything okay?” my mom whispers into my ear as I give her a hug.
“We’re good, just a little off.” I leave it at that, I don’t feel ready to talk about the job with her and want to make sure they also don’t sway my feelings either way. When the time is right, I’ll clue them in too.
My mom gives me another reassuring hug before ushering me into the living room. “Hi sweetie,” my dad calls from the table in the kitchen. “Just in here putting my finishing touches on our charcuterie board.” His smiling face greets me as I round the corner. “Did I say that right?”
“I think you got it. Looks yummy.”
Owen leans against the doorframe to the kitchen, silently watching as my dad takes his time placing the final olives and cheeses on the wooden board, his arms crossed stoically in front of his chest.
“What do you think?” Dad holds the board up proudly. He’s actually done a great job.
“Perfect,” my mom smiles, rubbing her hand in circles on his back. “Why don’t we dig in and I’ll grab some wine for all of us.” Looking over at Owen, he nods slightly before moving to the couch and seemingly reluctantly digging into the appetizer.
Maybe he was just hungry. His mood seems to improve slightly with the food and wine, making small talk and sharing about the craziness that seems to always happen at school after winter break.
I try to venture an innocuous question, hoping to connect with him a little more. “Have you heard from your parents about when they’ll visit next? It was so much fun having them here.”
“No, they haven’t decided yet.” He has a definite tone and I pull back the hand I had placed on his back. My mom’s eyes flick between me and my dad. I can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. He had seemed so on board for giving me space and I don’t understand why he’s had a sudden change.
“Why don’t you help me in the kitchen with dinner,” my mom says, pulling my dad along with her as they head out of the room. Once they’re out of earshot, I look over at Owen who stares ahead, lets out a long sigh, then runs his hands down his face.
“What is wrong?” I whisper, reaching my hand out to touch his knee. Our connection feeling even more fractured at the moment.
“I’m just having a harder time than I thought I would with giving you space. You haven’t even told your parents, Poppy.” I rake in a breath, unsure of how to respond. Where is this coming from?
“Should we just go? I can tell them I’m not feeling well.”
“No, let’s stay. I’ll work on it. I’m sorry.” He turns towards me and brushes my hair behind my ear. “It’s my own thing. I got some news today and it’s been making me think about everything again.”
Before I can find out what this news is though, we hear, “Dinner is ready.”
“News?” I ask frantically. What is he not telling me?
Before I get an answer, he stands up and heads to the dining room to join my parents, leaving me confused and alone on the couch.