Family Reunion
Copyright© 2025 by ghostwritten
Chapter 8
As I sat there, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it when she asked me to meet her in a coffee shop. It was a public place, somewhere I’d likely not make a scene as she calmly tore my heart from my chest right there at that table.
“I’m sorry, Logan, but I can’t do this anymore. It was one thing when we were just messing around, but with how you feel and how I ... I just think we should stop this before things go too far,” she said, as she took one of my hands in hers.
“Look, I’m sorry for what I said. Can’t we just move past it?” I responded, still in shock and disbelief that this was happening.
“I don’t think so. I’ve given it a lot of thought since Thanksgiving, and it just seems like there’s no other way. What kind of future do we really have? Be honest with yourself. You know I’m right.”
I didn’t want to think about any of those things at the moment. I just knew what I wanted right then and there. I wanted her, but she’d clearly given it a lot of thought.
“You’ve known since Thanksgiving that you wanted to end it?” I asked, my hands now trembling a little.
She looked down at the table. “Yes. With exams and everything coming up, I didn’t want you distracted, so I waited till now to tell you. It’s been tearing me up inside for more than a month, not being honest with you.”
I saw her eyes well up with tears when she looked back up at me. It nearly broke me. I couldn’t help but feel betrayed and lied to, though, having been led on for more than a month. My conflicting emotions churned and bubbled like a sea in a storm, and I was trapped in a little boat stuck at the center.
“I can’t believe this,” I managed to say, as I jerked my hand away from hers. Her mouth opened but didn’t say anything as a few wet streaks ran down her face.
I wanted to kick the table over. Throw it against one of the glass counters covering the little baked goods. I’d never experienced anything like what I did as I sat at that table, like the world was going dark.
“I hope we can still be friends...” she finally said meekly.
I didn’t respond, I don’t think I knew how. I couldn’t believe she’d actually said that. My inner rage and hurt couldn’t take it anymore. Without saying another word, I stood up, turned, and walked away. I didn’t look back as I left the coffee shop and walked my way back across campus to the frat house.
The place was partially empty. A number of guys had earlier exams and had already gone home for the holidays. I entered my room, somehow managing not to smash the door against the wall when it swung open. I noticed my roommate still sleeping in his bed, even though it was two in the afternoon. I quickly packed a couple of bags and headed for my old car. I said no goodbyes or anything, I was on the road back home within an hour of my meeting with Lindsay. I just needed to put some distance between myself and her.
There were a few questions from my parents when I arrived home earlier than expected, but they could tell on my face that something was wrong. I didn’t talk much the first few days after I got home, mostly spending my time in my room or going out with friends. I don’t know why, but I just didn’t feel like talking about it with my parents.
The worst thing that kept floating up in my thoughts that I would quickly try to push back down was that maybe Lindsay was right. The fact that I could never tell my parents about her, about us; and she would have been in the same boat. Is it a real relationship when you can’t be honest with others that you’re together? Those were the thoughts that swirled around in my head at night as I lay in my childhood bedroom.
In my moments of lucidity, I felt like a moody teen, brooding miserably in my bedroom over a girl. Those were then swamped over with dark thoughts and wanting to get revenge by sleeping with every girl I met. I don’t know why I thought it would help, but the idea was enough to get me out of the house and out with my high school friends each night. I never did actually hook up with anyone, though; I didn’t even try. It was just something to motivate me to be around people for a while each day.
My parents mostly left me to my own devices. It wasn’t until Christmas Day that either of them actually tried to talk to me about what was going on. Mom was once again in the kitchen, preparing a roast while Dad and I sat in the living room, and watched some lame Christmas movie where everything turns out and people learn life lessons. What bullshit.
“You gonna tell us what’s going on, Logan?” Dad finally asked, helped along by his second beer.
“It’s nothing, Dad,” I replied, taking a swig of my own.
“It’s clearly not nothing, son. You’ve been moping around here like a lost puppy. What happened?”
“She ... she dumped me,” I finally admitted, then finished off my beer and crushed the can in my hand.
“The girl you mentioned at Thanksgiving? What went wrong?”
I didn’t answer and instead stood up and wandered into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out a couple more beers. If we were going to be talking about this, I needed the right social lubricant. I offered my Dad one when I returned, and he took it but didn’t open it yet, still finishing off the one he had first.
“I don’t know, Dad,” I said as I plopped back down on the couch, cracking the top open on my third of the night. “I thought things were going well, but I may have screwed up saying something I shouldn’t have.”
“Did you tell her that horrendously dirty joke that you know? Cause that would do it,” Dad said, trying to cheer me up.
It didn’t work. “No, I may have let my feelings slip out at the wrong time. It freaked her out and made her realize there wasn’t a future for us. The worst part is that she was probably right.”
Dad took a drink and looked at me; I could tell he was already looking for the right thing to say. He always had the best little nuggets of wisdom buried in that head of his, and I hoped he could pull one out today. He furrowed his brow, took another large swig of beer, and then crushed the empty can.
“That’s bull, son.” Those were the first words he said to me, and it kind of surprised me. “You should never hide your true feelings, ‘cause you never know what might happen.”
“It isn’t always as easy as that,” I replied.
“I know, but you shouldn’t give up so easily if you truly do like this girl. Not everything is an easy party. Sometimes, you gotta fight for the things you want, otherwise you’ll look back and regret what you missed out on.”
“What do you mean, Dad?” I asked.
“Your old man wasn’t always an old man, Logan. I may have met your mom in college, but I lived a life before that. Sometimes you can’t help but wonder...” he trailed off and cracked open the new beer.
“You two are going to be drunk before we even eat,” Mom came into the living room to admonish us.
“We’re just talking ... guy stuff,” Dad said with a wink to me.
“Well whatever, take it easy so you don’t pass out before dinner. This isn’t a barn, Mitch.”
“Yes, dear,” Dad replied. He really did have the husband thing down.
It was New Year’s Eve, and I didn’t really feel like celebrating. Some of my local friends had invited me to a big house party but I couldn’t bring myself to go. It was less to do with the Lindsay situation and more to do with the fact I’d hung out with those guys almost every night for the past few weeks, except Christmas Eve and Day.
I was kind of sick of them. They were good guys, but we were three years removed from high school, so most of us had grown some since then ... although not everyone. There were a couple of guys still living out their high school glory days, having never moved on after graduation. They’d tell the same stories of glory and chase the same girls they did three years ago, when they’d come back at Christmas. Although with each passing year, there would be fewer and fewer of those girls available.
I hung out with my parents that night, something I always thought was a fate worse than death. I usually couldn’t imagine spending New Years with the family and not partying, but I guess that’s what growing up is. On TV, we watched the ball drop from Times Square and waited for New Years in our time zone, two hours behind. It was always weird being in the center of the country. It was always New York or L.A. times, but the mountain time zone was largely forgotten.
As we watched the clock tick down, Mom and Dad chatted about their resolutions for the year and what they hoped to do. I sat quietly listening, watching the celebrations happen in Chicago for the Central time zone. There was now less than an hour before our own, and part of me was looking forward to getting over with this year. With less than thirty minutes before midnight, the phone rang, and Dad went to pick it up.
“Hello? Oh hi Marnee...” I heard Dad say, as I watched Mom roll her eyes in annoyance.
“How’s the family doing?” Dad asked, but we couldn’t hear the response.
Dad continued after listening to her response, “Things are good here too, although Logan’s been a bit down. Yeah, seems like a girl broke his heart...” “ ... yeah, to be young again.” He looked at me and smiled. “What’s that? Lindsay too ... huh ... what are the odds...”
Dad turned and looked at me again, as Marnee continued to talk to him. There is a look on his face that’s hard to describe, but it was the same one he usually had when he was putting a puzzle together. If it hadn’t been several beers in, I’d probably have been sweating.
“That’s a great idea. Put her on...” Dad suddenly said. “Hi Lindsay, heard you’re having a rough holiday ... Yeah, Logan, too. Wanna talk to him?”
Dad looked at me suspiciously and offered me the phone. I was stuck in a difficult position. If I took the phone and talked to her, it would be less suspicious, but I could say something incriminating. If I didn’t, they’d know something was up between the two of us. I was trapped, and I think that was the point. Ultimately, I waved my hands and took a step back, declining the call. A half smile crept across Dad’s lips.