Beautiful Disaster

“I will. After Thanksgiving…I’ll tell them.”

I sighed, looking away. “If you promise me that this isn’t some stunt to try and get back together, I’ll do it.”

He nodded. “I promise.”

Although he was trying to hide it, I could see a spark in his eyes. I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile. “I’ll see you at five.”

Travis leaned down to kiss my cheek, his lips lingering on my skin. “Thanks, Pigeon.”

America and Shepley met me at the door of the cafeteria and we walked in together. I yanked the silverware from its holder and then dropped my plate on the tray.

“What’s with you, Abby?” America asked.

“I’m not coming with you guys tomorrow.”

Shepley’s mouth fell open. “You’re going to the Maddox’s?”

America’s eyes darted to mine. “You’re what?”

I sighed and shoved money at the cashier. “I promised Trav I’d go when we were on the plane, and he told them all I’d be there.”

“In his defense,” Shepley began, “he really didn’t think you guys were gonna break up. He thought you’d come around. It was too late by the time he figured out that you were serious.”

“That’s bullshit, Shep and you know it,” America seethed. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, Abby.”

She was right. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have a choice. But I couldn’t do that to Travis. Not even if I hated him. And I didn’t.

“If I don’t go, he’ll have to explain to them why I didn’t show, and I don’t want to ruin his Thanksgiving. They’re all coming home thinking I’m going to be there.”

Shepley smiled, “They all really like you, Abby. Jim was just talking to my dad about you the other day.”

“Great,” I muttered.

“Abby’s right, Baby,” Shepley said. “If she doesn’t go, Jim will spend the day bitching at Trav. There’s no sense in ruining their day.”

America put her arm around my shoulders. “You can still come with us. You’re not with him, anymore. You don’t have to keep saving him.”

“I know, Mare. But it’s the right thing to do.”

The sun melted into the buildings outside the window, and I stood in front of my mirror, brushing my hair while trying to decide how I was going to go about pretending with Travis. “It’s just one day, Abby. You can handle one day,” I said to the mirror.

Pretending had never been a problem for me; it was what was going to happen while we were pretending that I was worried about. When Travis dropped me off after dinner, I was going to have to make a decision. A decision that would be skewed by a false sense of happiness we would portray for his family.

Knock, knock.

I turned, looking at the door. Kara hadn’t been back to our room all evening, and I knew that America and Shepley were already on the road. I couldn’t imagine who it could be. I set my brush on the table and pulled open the door.

“Travis,” I breathed.

“Are you ready?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Ready for what?”

“You said pick you up at five.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “I meant five in the morning!”

“Oh,” Travis said, seeming disappointed. “I guess I should call Dad and let him know we won’t be staying after all.”

“Travis!” I wailed.

“I brought Shep’s car so we didn’t have to deal with our bags on the bike. There’s a spare bedroom you can crash in. We can watch a movie or—,”

“I’m not staying at your dad’s!”

His face fell. “Okay. I’ll uh…I’ll see you in the morning.”

He took a step back and I shut the door, leaning against it. Every emotion I had weaved in and out of my insides, and I heaved an exasperated sigh. With Travis’ disappointed expression fresh on my mind, I pulled open the door and stepped out, seeing that he was slowly walking down the hall, dialing his phone.

“Travis, wait.” He flipped around and the hopeful look in his eyes made my chest ache. “Give me a minute to pack a few things.”

A relieved, appreciative smile spread across his face and he followed me to my room, watching me shove a few things in a bag from the doorway.

“I still love you, Pidge.”

I didn’t look up. “Don’t. I’m not doing this for you.”

He sucked in a breath. “I know.”

We rode in silence to his dad’s house. The car felt charged with nervous energy, and it was hard to sit still against the cold leather seats. Once we arrived, Trenton and Jim walked out onto the porch, all smiles. Travis carried our bags from the car, and Jim patted his back.

“Good to see ya, Son.” His smiled broadened when he looked at me. “Abby Abernathy. We’re looking forward to dinner tomorrow. It’s been a long time since…Well. It’s been a long time.”

I nodded and followed Travis into the house. Jim rested his hand on his protruding belly and grinned. “I set you two up in the guest bedroom, Trav. I didn’t figure you would wanna fight with the twin in your room.”

I looked to Travis. It was difficult watching him struggle to speak. “Abby’s uh…she’s going to uh…going to take the guest room. I’m going to crash in mine.”

Trenton made a face. “Why? She’s been staying at your apartment, hasn’t she?”

“Not lately,” he said, desperately trying to avoid the truth.

Jim and Trenton traded glances. “Thomas’ room has been storage for years now, so I was going to let him take your room. I guess he can sleep on the couch,” Jim said, looking to the ratty, discolored cushions in the living room.

“Don’t worry about it, Jim. We were just trying to be respectful,” I smiled, touching him arm.

His laughter bellowed throughout the house, and he patted my hand. “You’ve met my sons, Abby. You should know it’s damn near impossible to offend me.”

Travis nodded toward the stairs, and I followed him. He pushed open the door with his foot and sat our bags on the floor, looking at the bed and then turning to me. The room was lined in brown paneling, the brown carpet beyond normal wear and tear. The walls were a dirty white, the paint peeling in places. I saw only one frame on the wall, enclosed was a picture of Jim and Travis’ mother. The background was a generic portrait-studio blue, sporting feathered hair and young, smiling faces. It must have been taken before they had the boys, neither of them could have been older than twenty.

“I’m sorry, Pidge. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Damn straight you will,” I said, pulling my hair into a ponytail. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

He sat on the bed and rubbed his face in frustration. “This is going to be a fucking mess. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I know exactly what you were thinking. I’m not stupid, Travis.”

He looked up at me and smiled. “But you still came.”

“I have to get everything ready for tomorrow,” I said, opening the door.

Travis stood up. “I’ll help you.”

We peeled a mountain of potatoes, cut up vegetables, set out the turkey to thaw, and started the pie crusts. The first hour was more than uncomfortable, but when the twins arrived, everyone seemed to congregate in the kitchen. Jim told stories about each of his boys, and we laughed about tales of earlier disastrous Thanksgivings