I should have called Nikki to
remind her. But then I notice
Mom’s Jeep, with a familiar
face behind the windshield.
She gives me a major smile
as I climb into the passenger seat.
“Hey, Aunt Leigh. Great to see
you. Uh, my car’s okay, right?”
She laughs, reaches over to
give me a hug. It’s safe. Poor
Nikki is just up to her elbows
in three varieties of stuffing.
“Yeah, right. Hopefully one
is plain cornbread. Where’s
Katie? Didn’t she want to escape
the madcap feast preparations?”
Leigh’s smile vanishes. She sighs.
Katie and I broke up. Crap timing,
huh? Least she could have done
was wait until after the holidays.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” We drive home,
Leigh droning on about “different
backgrounds” and “different dreams.”
I truly am sorry. She and Katie have
been a thing for more than six years.
We all thought this was “the one,”
especially Leigh, who seemed so happy
when they were here last Christmas.
I look at her tightly sculpted face,
softened some by the shallow tendrils