‘I’m glad I got it.’ Nate’s voice was low, even hushed. ‘There are times I can go a whole day without her flashing through my mind. Then I catch sight of the tat in the mirror. So I remember.’
I wanted to tell him it was okay to live his life, to have days that weren’t weighted by her loss, but I’d feel like a hypocrite if I did. Whenever I went a whole day without thinking about Mom the guilt was almost crippling. Nate knew that. He knew that and I knew his story. Remembering everything he’d told me after he’d found me in my apartment last November, I wouldn’t be the one to tell him that it was time to move on …
Last Thanksgiving, Edinburgh
The turkey was in the oven and so were the roasted potatoes. My potatoes for the mash were boiling and my onions were chopped, ready to be mashed in with the potatoes, just like Mom made. The cranberry sauce was done. The vegetables were steaming.
Since I couldn’t find a store anywhere in Edinburgh that sold pumpkin pie, I had to make one from scratch. I wiped sweat from my forehead because the heat from my kitchen had filled my little apartment to the boiling point. Windows were open, but I’d still had to change into a tank top on a Scottish fall day.
After spending an emotional morning with my dad, I’d told him I just needed some quiet time alone. I could tell he didn’t want to leave me, but I was a grown woman and he gave me my space. I was using my space to do what Mom would have been doing if life was fair.
Finishing up with the pie, I opened the oven to see if I could make room for it. Smoke billowed out.
‘What the hell?’ I screamed at it, waving the smoke away to discover that the turkey was burning.
How was it burning? Didn’t I put it in for the right time? I glanced up at the clock and felt a wave of dizziness sway me. Seven o’ clock. How did it get to be seven o’ clock? That couldn’t be right.
I felt tears prick my eyes as I looked at the massacred bird.
I’d ruined it.
‘I f**king ruined it!’ I shrieked, grabbing an oven mitt and pulling at the bird. Feeling the burning heat of the tray beneath my hand I yelled in outrage and dumped its heavy load in the sink.
My door buzzer went off, and I stopped and sucked in a breath.
What if it was Dad?
I hurried to the entry phone. ‘Who is it?’ I asked tentatively.
‘Nate. Let me up.’
‘Uh, now’s not a good time.’
‘I just heard you screaming from your open window. You don’t let me up, I’ll break the f**k in.’
Pushing a hand through my hair, I winced at the wetness in my hairline. I was a sweaty mess.
I buzzed him in and pulled my front door open with belligerent annoyance, then stomped into the kitchen to check my roasted potatoes.
‘Fucking ruined too,’ I whimpered, my eyes filling with more tears.
‘Liv?’
I whirled around to face Nate, and whatever he saw in my eyes made him stop in his tracks.
‘Liv, are you okay?’ he asked gently, taking a slow step toward me.
‘I ruined it!’ I yelled, flinging an arm out toward the turkey. ‘It’s f**ked! What’s the point in me baking the f**king pie if the bird is f**ked? I wasted my time chopping onions for the mash but there’s no point because the roasted potatoes are burnt. You can’t have Thanksgiving with just one kind of potato, Nate.’
‘Babe, come here.’ He approached me as though I was a wounded animal. I was so confused by his behavior that I let him curl a strong hand around my arm and pull me toward the sitting room. Realization that he was taking me out of the kitchen sank in and a misdirected rage tore out of me.
‘No!’ I screamed, trying to pull away from him.
‘Jesus, Liv, calm down,’ he ordered through gritted teeth, grabbing hold of my other arm for better purchase. ‘Calm down and tell me what’s going on.’
‘Don’t!’ I tugged my arms, and when that didn’t work, I tried to force him away from me, tried to knock him off balance. ‘Get off! I have to fix it! I have to fix it!’
‘Liv,’ he whispered, fear in his voice now. He shook me hard, so hard I stopped, wide-eyed, as his hands gentled and cupped my face. I stared into his dark eyes and what I saw in them frightened me.
I was acting like a crazy person.
My face crumpled as the familiar agony ripped through my chest. My body shuddered, hard, while I sobbed. ‘She’s not here to fix it.’ I fell against him, trying to catch my breath.
His arms slid around me as I cried and in that moment I felt like his arms were the only thing keeping my insides from falling out.
‘She struggled,’ I whispered, taking a deep breath, trying to find calm through the tears, ‘but she fought through it. Every Thanksgiving.’ I relaxed at his murmuring words of comfort, my head moving with the rise and fall of his smooth breathing. I let the rhythm take hold of me, and slowly my own breathing returned to normal.
When I finally became aware of my surroundings again, I discovered I was lying on the couch with Nate. He’d settled down on it and taken me with him so I was tucked into his side, my head still resting on his chest and my right hand clutched in his left.
‘I’m sorry,’ I croaked out, my eyes swollen, my cheeks burning with embarrassment at my meltdown. Truth be told, I’d been going into a meltdown for the last few weeks as Thanksgiving approached. Much of the tension I was carrying had been coiled up tight as I tried to keep my meltdown from my father.
‘Don’t be.’ Nate reassured me. ‘Why today, Liv?’