Page 58 of Just A Trip

He inspects my face as if searching for tired lines and signs of exhaustion. I can guarantee they are all there.

He stands up with me. “Okay. You’ll be back tomorrow, right?”

I force a smile and nod.

He leans down to drop a kiss on my lips but I turn in time for it to graze my cheek, covering the slip-up with a yawn.

“Let me walk you out,” he says, grabbing my hand again.

I don’t want him to walk me out. Every moment I spend with him feels harder than the last as I fight the tears to keep them at bay. But I say okay anyway.

He’s silent while we walk. I am too. I’m not sure what to say, so I keep yawning. Not that I have to pretend anymore. I’m one hundred percent exhausted.

“Did you have a good day?” he asks.

This time I don’t have to force a smile. “I did. Best Thanksgiving ever.”

“Agreed,” he murmurs.

It’s quiet again. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Of course, I’m just tired…and overwhelmed. I’m never around that many people.” That part is true, but the first part isn’t. I could never get overwhelmed by his family. I adore them too much. I love his grandma’s wild stories, which probably aren’t true. I love the way his parents are still so in love and still tease each other. Grant and Lennox, Michael and Juliet, I want to be part of it all. I want to be part of their family.

“They can be a lot,” Trent says.

We reach Baby Bertha. I think he’s going to say something or kiss me again, but instead, he pulls my knuckles to his lips and kisses them. “Goodnight Karli.”

“Goodnight,” I yawn again.

He drops my hand without asking for more, and I slide into the car.

I barely have the car away from the curb before the tears fall. I can’t look back at him.

I hate that somehow he was intuitive enough to know I couldn’t handle a kiss right now. I hate that he’s perfect and I’m pulling away. I hate that my mom made me this way.

My mom.

My hand shakes around my phone as I pull it out and click on her name. Surprisingly, it only rings three times before she answers.

“Karli? Where did you go? We are supposed to have Thanksgiving together tomorrow.” In the background, I hear coins being fed into a slot machine.

My heart floods my body with extra heat. “It’s today.”

“What’s today?”

“Thanksgiving. It was today. It already happened. You missed it.”

“What are you talking about? I’m sure it’s tomorrow. Are you bringing Chinese again? You know you should really lay off the fried shrimp, it’s starting to go to your hips. You should get salmon instead. It’s supposed to keep you younger. That’s what I’ve been eating for every meal for the last week.”

I grip the steering wheel, the tears making it hard to see straight. “No. I’m not coming. Because it’s over. And because I already spent a wonderful Thanksgiving with a wonderful family.”

She’s quiet.

I can’t stop the tears now, so I pull off the road and bury my head in my hands.

“Are you trying to make me feel bad?” she hisses.

“No. Because not everything is about you Mom. Why can’t you understand that?”

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