Page 108 of Best I Never Had

I finish with the potatoes and move on to remove the pomegranate salad from the fridge, vibrant in reds and greens against the spinach and candied pecans sprinkled on top. My mom was reluctant to stray away from her usual Thanksgiving dinner, stating pomegranates and brussels sprouts didn’t say Traditional Marshall Family Thanksgiving. But Pat persuaded her, saying my cooking will be sure to surprise her. And when I brought in all the herbs and spices to flavor the turkey, along with some ingredients that she wasn’t familiar with, her wary look turned into a curious one.

My mom is adding her final touches to the candied yams, something she insisted she take care of, as it has always been one of my favorites and she wanted to make something for me to enjoy. I turn toward her to slop the finished mashed potatoes onto a serving plate. Once the platters of food, too many for just three people, sit ready to be moved to the formal dining room, we make multiple trips before sitting down and digging in. We eat quietly, not because it’s awkward but because we can’t talk with our mouths full of warm, savory food that pairs too perfectly with the hints of sweetness in the salad and yams. By the time we’re done, I’m so full. I feel like I’m going to explode out of my pants.

Once all the leftovers are transferred into Tupperware containers and the dishwasher is running with the low hum of water sloshing in the machine as it vibrates underneath the countertop, we all sit in the living room. My mom puts onMeet Me in St. Louiswhile we all enjoy a slice of store-bought pumpkin pie.

When Pat’s light snoring from our recliner naturally signals the end to the night, my mom gets up from her comfortable spot on the sofa.

“I’m going to turn in,” she says softly before turning down the volume to the TV. She walks toward me and gives me a light peck to the top of my head. “Thanks for dinner, Hayden.”

“You’re welcome, Mom.”

“I’m glad you’re home.” I look up at her, her eyes glistening against the glare coming off the TV. She runs a hand along my shoulder and gives me a light squeeze along with a sad smile.

“I’m glad I’m home too.”

She turns to walk away, and I watch her trudge up the stairs to her room. When the movie ends, I turn it off and go to my room, leaving Pat to sleep on the recliner. I’m tired, worn from the day spent in front of the stove, but my mind feels wired. Like I can’t shut it off. Instead it’s filled with all of the things that make my heart twinge and throb.

As soon as I walk into my room, I sit at my desk and lean back in my swivel chair before letting my fingers run over the wooden desktop. I glance quickly at my clock to check the time. It’s late, close to midnight, making me wonder what Natalia’s doing right now. If she’s no more than fifteen miles away, in her parents’ home, winding down after enjoying dinner with her family or if she’s still back in the city, alone and without me.

I haven’t spoken to her since she walked out of my apartment. I wanted to call her. I should have. I should have gone after her and let her know how I feel. Tell her that I didn’t even bother to check who messaged me on Cupid’s Bet. That instead, I deleted the app altogether, not caring what the unread message said. I wanted to tell her…no, Ishouldhave told her that I love her. That the reason I can’t push aside all the fear and doubts is because it fuels every beat of my heart when it comes to her. And that even though I want nothing more than to spend my days by her side, I’m scared that all the things that went south in my life would happen to us too. I’m scared of losing her before she’s even mine.

My eyes start to trail over the scattered yet organized mess on my desk under the soft glow of my desk lamp. Over the worn football signed by Paul Warfield sitting in the corner and the Paramore tickets I tacked to the corkboard on the wall. I open the small drawer to my right, finding it rather organized and not full of junk like I expected it to be. I start to pick at my old possessions, trying to place when I got them or when I last used them. On top, right up against the side of the handle, I see a worn leather wallet and my old mouthguard. Just as I slide out my school ID from my old wallet, I see the light reflecting off something hard and plastic in the drawer, causing me to lean forward a little further and peer inside. My fingers catch on a metal ring where an acrylic keychain hangs.

It’s the old keychain that Natalia got me. All scuffed and dull with the words I Love NY encased in plastic.

A sob breaks loose in my chest. It hiccups through my throat as that twinge in my heart starts to twist. It winds and coils until my heart feels like it’s snapping, breaking apart so that the pain that slices through it can be felt with every thought that crosses my mind. Every bad decision, every moment of regret, all of it making the pain spasm against my chest, begging me to make it stop.

I break down with my hand gripping the keychain as if I know it’s my last thread of hope. My world feels like it’s crumbling to pieces. From losing my dad and knowing that I will never be able to get the time back that I lost with him to losing Natalia too, having to say goodbye to her when I knew I wouldn’t survive having to do that again.

The tears start pouring down my face as I break the dam that I held up for so long. The dam that’s been weak and feeble since Natalia walked out of my apartment, since I got that call from my mom when my dad died. If I think back far enough, it’s been cracking and deteriorating since the last Thanksgiving I had here at home. Or even since graduation when I said goodbye to Natalia. I’ve been holding myself together for that long, notrealizing how much I needed to fall apart. I needed to fall apart to move on, to understand that my dad’s death was an incident of circumstance and not a punishment for not reaching out to him sooner. I needed to crumble to understand how much Natalia means to me, not having realized that without her, I couldn’t be put back together. I’ll never be whole without her. She’s my best friend, my everything. From my heart to the small voice in my head telling me that I’m destined for so much more than I give myself credit for, the ghost of her lives in and around me.

My chest starts to heave, the sobs coming in uncontrollable waves. As I become a blubbering mess of never-ending tears and snot, I slump to the floor and lean my back against the cold wall, still holding on to the one piece of Natalia that I’ve never had to say goodbye to.

I miss her so much.

“I got an early flight back. I’m leaving tonight,” Pat announces the next morning over a cup of fresh coffee. I look at him from my cereal bowl, slurping the last remnants of milk. My eyes feel swollen and sore, having been put through the ringer before sleep finally stopped the tears from flowing. I know I look like shit. I sure as hell feel like it.

“Oh,” I finally answer. “I don’t know if I can get a seat on the same flight.” Our flight back to the city isn’t until Saturday afternoon, and I don’t understand why he changed our travel arrangements.

He shakes his head. “I have some things to take care of. But you’re staying.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I want you to stay a couple of weeks. Maybe a month.”

“Pat, I have a kitchen to run,” I say. “Atyourrestaurant,” I remind him.

“I know. Stephan can step in,” he says calmly and surely.

“I can’t just leave him to run things,” I argue.

“Yes, you can. That’s why he’s your sous chef. He and everyone else in that kitchen can manage just fine for a couple of weeks while you’re here.” He pauses, his hands coming to wrap around his coffee mug. “You have a good team. They’ve all learned a lot from you. Trust me, they’ll be fine.”

My brow furrows. “Why?”

“Your mom needs you. She’s going to need your help to pack up your dad’s things and settle into a routine that your dad isn’t a part of.”

I nod, silently agreeing with him.

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