Fallout (Crank 3)

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