Make You Miss Me by B. Celeste

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Dad’s kitchen smells like slightly burnt stuffing, but the perfectly browned turkey makes up for it. If that hadn’t, Mom’s famous macaroni and cheese might have saved the holiday lunch we’ve gathered at Dad’s house to have.

“Can you mash the potatoes?” my dad asks as he pokes at the turkey.

I’ve always helped my parents with holiday meals, so I know where everything is as I get to work across the kitchen. The caramel apple cheesecake I made is sitting on the counter next to Mom’s peach cobbler. Dad thinks we don’t know that the chocolate peanut butter pie beside those is store-bought even though he moved it to a glass pie dish, but we all know his baking skills are nowhere near his cooking ones.

“Is Vickie coming later?” he asks. Vickie sometimes stops by for dessert and drinks while they yell at the TV over whatever football teams are playing.

“I don’t think so. Her family is in town for once, so she was planning on seeing them.” I don’t expect to get an SOS text or a reason to call and make her come here, but my phone’s sound is on just in case. She’s had a lot of problems with her parents over the years, but nothing that’s ever stopped her from seeing them when they’re around.

“Too bad,” Dad comments. “I was looking forward to rubbing it in her face when the Lions lose.”

I snort. “Great sportsmanship.”

“Like she’s any better.”

“True.”

Before he can pick on my best friend anymore, Mom walks in. “What are we talking about?”

I finish the potatoes and turn to her as she presses a kiss against my cheek. “Dad is trash-talking Vickie and her love for the Lions.”

She rolls her eyes. “You said she’s with her family today, yes?”

“Yep.”

“Did she bring anybody?”

Internally, I groan, knowing where this conversation is going. “Nope. Just her.”

“Hmm.”

Dad chuckles to himself from where he stands in front of the stove.

“Have you dated?” Mom comes out and asks. “You’re still young, Stevie. Plenty of men would be more than happy to take you out.”

I know she means well, but that doesn’t make me want to talk about this. “I went out on a date once not that long ago. It didn’t work out.”

“Why not?”

“Because it didn’t.”

“Did you even try?”

“Mom,” I groan in disbelief that we’re having this conversation. “He wasn’t right for me. Please stop trying to push this on me.”

She frowns. “I just want to see you get out and live your life. What’s wrong with that?”

“I go out with my friends,” is my reply.

That’s still not good enough for her. “But going out with Vickie and your coworkers isn’t going to get me a grandchild anytime soon, now is it?”

I stop what I’m doing to stare at her, in awe that she’d say that to me, knowing how badly I wanted to get pregnant once upon a time.

To make it worse, she’s oblivious and keeps going, driving the knife deeper into my heart. “All I’m trying to say is that Hunter may not have wanted kids, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a nice man out there who isn’t willing to go down that road with you someday.”

Unlike Mom, Dad notices the tension in my shoulders. “Sandy…”

Mom’s brows pinch as she looks between him and me in confusion. “What?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“No, what is it?”

I eye her. “He texted me.”

Her eyes widen.

Dad makes a disgruntled sound from behind me.

“And he sent me flowers,” I add.

It effectively shuts her up.

“I didn’t reply or thank him for the roses.”

Both my parents are staring now.

I grab the bowl of potatoes and turn to my mother with the dish tight in my grasp. “I love you, Mom, but you of all people should know that when you spend years with somebody, suddenly forgetting about them and moving on isn’t as easy as it sounds.” Eyes going to Dad, who looks a little uncomfortable, I shake my head. “I know you two love me and want me to be happy, and I appreciate that, but you need to let me live my life at my pace. Jumping into a relationship with somebody when I’m not ready will only make me miserable.”

“Oh, Stevie…” Mom reaches out and touches my arm.

I shake it off. “I know, Mom. Really. It’s fine. But don’t you think it’s a little hypocritical to urge me on dates when you’ve been divorced from Dad and still see him all the time and act like you don’t have feelings for him? Everyone in this room knows that’s not true.”

“Stevie,” Dad warns quietly, playing devil’s advocate as usual.

“No. I’m not trying to be rude. I’m simply stating a fact. You guys are my parents, but that doesn’t mean you’re always right. We’re all adults and should be able to say how we feel without being reprimanded. But you telling me that I need to find a man to have children with is going too far. You knew how much I wanted that life and how badly it hurt that I wasn’t given it. So maybe, just maybe, put yourself in my shoes and think about how that makes me feel.”

They’re both quiet. Mom’s face looks flushed, and her eyes start to glaze, but I can’t make myself feel bad for hurting her feelings when I’m being honest. “I’m going to set the table.”

The rest of the day is slightly awkward, but we all make conversation so it’s never silent. About work. About Vickie. About what they’re up to. New hobbies.

I never bring up Hunter again, and neither do they.

And when Vickie comes over right before the game starts, I almost send a thank you to the sky because it distracts my parents from me and lets me sink into the background for a while.

Sitting in an armchair in the corner while my dad and friend argue about something sports related, I open my text messages and stare at the one Hunter sent me.

Hi, smalls.

I tap my finger against my phone in contemplation.

Bounce my knee anxiously.

Then, I delete the message.