I invited my ex, Ben, to Thanksgiving to heal our rift, but his unannounced arrival with my sister turned chaos into clarity. Helping Mom in the kitchen, I diced celery amid scents of rosemary and pumpkin pie. Soft blues played, but my heart was with Ben. “No word from him?” Mom asked, tossing pecans. I shook my head. “Not since our fight.” She probed, but I mumbled, “We were fine, then he drifted.” She said, “Invite him. Silence won’t fix this.” Wiping my hands, I called Ben, asking him to join us. “I’ve got plans,” he said. “Oh,” I replied, stung, and hung up, slicing celery harder.
By dusk, the house sparkled—turkey, stuffing, candles aglow. Dad’s story of a fishing mishap drew laughs, but my brother, Leo, whined, “Can we eat?” Mom shushed him, waiting for my sister, Nina. The door opened, and Nina walked in—with Ben. My spoon clattered. “You said you weren’t coming,” I stammered. He smiled. “Plans changed.” Nina grinned, “Surprise!” but the air thickened. Dad joked, “Turkey twist!” but I saw Ben and Nina share a roll, whispering, my chest tight. “Nina, my ex now?” I snapped. “First my books, now him?” She winced. “Lisa, no.” I grabbed my coat, fleeing into the rain.
Wet and cold, I dropped my keys. “Lisa!” Ben called, running up, soaked. “It’s not what it looks like,” he said. “You brought my sister,” I shouted. He admitted, “I thought it’d make you notice me.” I scoffed. “A game to fix us?” He said, “I miss you. Nina was helping.” In my car, rain pattering, he held my hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was quiet too,” I confessed, saying I loved him. Back inside, I apologized to Nina; she hugged me. Dad yelled, “Food time!” Ben’s hand felt warm. The storm cleared, showing me silence hurts, but honest talk—like at that table—rebuilds love, stronger than before.
