Three Christmas Wishes. Sheila Roberts
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had eaten the last piece of huckleberry pie, which Grammy had planned on taking home and having for breakfast the next morning. It hadn’t mattered that he’d been unaware of her plans for that piece of pie. As far as she was concerned, he still shouldn’t have eaten it.
More evidence of how unworthy Sean was began to come out. “Remember how cheap he was on Valentine’s Day?” Jo reminded Riley. “A bag of M&Ms instead of a box of chocolates.”
“But I like M&Ms,” Riley said.
“It was still cheap. And he didn’t even take you to a nice restaurant. Bubba’s Bar-B-Q? Really?”
“You’re well rid of him,” Mom agreed. “Heaven knows who else he’s cheated with this past year.”
“Now, there’s something to be thankful for,” said Grammy.
“That he cheated on me?”
“That you discovered what a weaselly cheater he is before you got married.”
“He had to wait till three weeks before the wedding to do it?” The humiliation, the disappointment. Oh, the wrongness of it all.
“That is a little inconvenient,” Mom conceded. “But nothing we can’t handle. We’ll start calling the guests tonight.”
“I’ll text all the cousins,” Jo offered.
“See? It’s going to be fine,” Mom assured Riley.
“And look on the bright side,” Jo added. “Now you don’t have to work out at the gym.”
No. Emily would be doing that, right alongside Sean. Riley sniffed.
“One less Christmas present to buy,” Grammy said with a nod that made her glasses bob on her nose.
Christmas. Riley had been envisioning their first Christmas as a married couple—getting up in the morning and drinking hot chocolate, opening their presents. She’d already bought Sean’s, a tool set she’d found online with everything from wrenches to Phillips screwdrivers. Well, she needed a tool set. And she could still drink hot chocolate.
All by herself. She burst into fresh tears.
“We’re not going to let this ruin our Thanksgiving,” Mom said firmly.
Was she kidding? “I’m not coming,” Riley said.
“Not coming!” Mom and Grammy chorused.
“I can’t.” How could they expect her to face everyone after what had just happened?
“Now, baby,” Grammy said, putting an arm around Riley’s shoulders, “When you take a fall you have to climb back on the horse.”
“I didn’t fall,” Riley protested. “I was dumped.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mom said. “Your grandmother’s right. You don’t want to be alone at a time like this. You need your family. And besides, if you sit here and mope, think of the power you’re giving him.”
“I’m not giving him any power. I’m just... Guys, can’t you let me mourn?”
“Absolutely not,” Mom insisted. “Now, go shower and dress. We’ll wait.”
Once Mom and Grammy made up their minds, arguing did about as much good as trying to stick to a diet in a bakery. Riley trudged off to the shower.
As she went, Grammy started singing some old song about washing that man right out of her hair. Funny.
After Riley was cleaned up, Mom and Grammy loaded her and the pies in Mom’s car and hauled her back to the house while Jo went home to put the finishing touches on her cranberry salad.
“How’s my girl?” her father asked, folding her into his big arms.
“Miserable.”
“Don’t be. Forget about that clown. Anyone stupid enough not to want to be with you doesn’t deserve you. I never thought he was good enough for you, anyway.”
And that was the general consensus as the family gathered for their annual Thanksgiving feast.
“Men are beasts,” said Aunt Gertrude, making Uncle Earl frown.
“Good riddance,” said Riley’s brother, Harold. “He’s a tool.”
“That’s bad,” explained his seven-year-old daughter, Caitlyn.
Harold worked out at Sean’s gym a lot. “Did you know he and...” Riley couldn’t bear to mention her false friend’s name. “Did you know what he was doing?”
“Would you pass the stuffing, Aunt Gert?” Harold said, trying to dodge the question.
“Harold, did you?” She knew the answer before he even spoke. Guilt was painting a red flush on his face.
But he shook his head. “Not for sure. There was a lot of flirting going on and I thought that was tacky. You’re well rid of him, sis.”
Maybe she was, but the loss hurt all the same and it was hard to be thankful.
Still, by the end of the day she felt somewhat better. Everyone had complimented her on her pumpkin pies. Her aunt Ellen told her how nice she looked and asked her if she’d lost weight. She’d played Go Fish with Jo, her sister-in-law and her niece and had actually managed to forget her miseries for an hour or two.
Until she got back home to her empty apartment and realized it was going to stay empty for a long time to come. Maybe forever. Oh, there was a comforting thought.
Mom had sent home the last piece of pie with her, along with some stuffing and gravy and turkey. She’d planned to have them for lunch the next day. But, like the saying went, life was uncertain. She decided to eat dessert first. Maybe tomorrow she’d bake pumpkin squares. To heck with never eating again. She was going to eat away her sorrows, turn herself into a blimp. Who cared?
She took one bite of the pie and then tossed it in the garbage. Pumpkin pie was a poor substitute for a fiancé.
She was working up to another good cry when her sister called. “I know you’re feeling sorry for yourself again.”
Sometimes older sisters could be real stinkers. “I’d say I have a right to.”
“Yeah, you do, but I have a better idea than sitting around feeling miserable for the next six months.”
She wasn’t planning on feeling miserable for the next six months. More like the next six years. “What?” Riley asked suspiciously.
“Girlfriend party. Pack a bag. Noel’s on her way to pick you up.”
“You told Noel?”
“Yeah, since she’s your oldest friend and your maid of honor. Thought she’d need to know.”
Yes, of course, Noel had to be told. Still, this felt as if her sad news was spreading faster than gossip on Twitter. In fact, it would probably be on Twitter before the day was over. Maybe it already was. Maybe Sean had tweeted. Happy Thanksgiving. Dumped my girlfriend. Gobble, gobble.
“You wanted to give her the happy news yourself?” Jo retorted.
Good point. She supposed she should be thankful her sister was telling people so she wouldn’t have to.
“Come on, we’ll drink eggnog and play Farkle. Then tomorrow we can hit the Black Friday sales and get you some new clothes, give you a break-over.”
A breakup makeover; that did sound tempting.
“You don’t really want to be by yourself, do you?” Jo continued.
“No,” Riley admitted. She had enough of that being-by-herself stuff looming in the future.
“Older sister knows best,” Jo teased.
“Sometimes.”