“You’re welcome,” Cyn responds, then says, “Hey, Pops,” and reaches to hug my father.
He embraces her warmly – the daughter he never had. “It’s so nice to see you, Cynnamon—looking beautiful as always.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Pops. Come on inside, family, and get comfortable.”
They follow her into the house while I roll the suitcases to the stairs, lift them up, and set them down on the porch. I pause when I see the fall wreath Cyn hung on the front door. It’s amazing how women think about little things like this. It never occurred to me to hang a wreath, so changing one surely hadn’t crossed my mind.
I pull the bags inside, leaving them in the foyer for now because the smell in my home is warm, like freshly baked apple pie, mixed with a little love.I see that Cyn has made more changes since I’ve been gone. There’s a candle flickering on the mantle. That’s where the apple-cinnamon scent is coming from. When I round the corner, I see a lunch spread on the island. There’s a fruit bowl, sandwiches, chips, cookies, pickles, and a pitcher of lemonade. There’s another candle in the center of the island.
Cynnamon says, “I whipped up some lunch for y’all. I know travel can be very taxing.”
Dad chuckles. “I see what you did there, Cynnamon. Taxing–you know like the plane does when it lands.”
“That’s taxiing, Dad,” I clarify.
“That’s what I said. Cyn, ain’t that what I said?”
“It sure is,” she agrees, her cheeks reddening as she looks at me knowingly.
I walk over to Cyn and ask discreetly, “You did all of this?”
“All of what? It was nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. It’s nice. Thank you for putting this together.”
“You’re welcome, dear,” she tells me, then proceeds to take plates from the cupboard. She gets glasses, fills them with ice, and pours lemonade to the brim. Then she places them on the table, hands out plates, and says, “Dig in. I made ham and Swiss and turkey and cheese.”
“You ain’t got to tell me twice,” Dad says, snatching up two sandwiches.
I take a ham and Swiss along with some chips and a pickle. Funny how simple this meal is, yet it tastes exquisite because Cyn made it.
“Mmm, hmm,” my father says, singing her praises. “Now this right here is a good sandwich! Thank you for thinking about us, daughter-in-law.”
“Always. How can I not when you gave me this handsome husband of mine?”
Cyn brushes the back of her index finger across my cheek. The feeling is so foreign, I almost pull back, but I quickly catch myself. My parents need to think we’re still together. Before this all popped off, I was thinking about how much pretending Cyn would have to do. Turns out, I need to do just as much pretending. The only difference between me and her is, I still love her.
“Aw…ain’t that sweet,” Mom says. “How many years y’all comin’ up on now? Five?”
“Almost,” Cyn says, smiling. “Four years and eleven months.”
“Nice. I bet you got something special planned for anniversary number five, huh, son?” Mom inquires, poking around into something I hadn’t come up with astoryfor.
Dad chimes in and says, “If I were you, I’d be on a plane somewhere.”
“No, you won’t!” Mom says, laughing. “You couldn’t een handle the flight here. What you talkin’ ‘bout? You ain’t going nowhere unless it’s by car or train.”
“You had a rough flight, Pops?” Cyn asks.
“Don’t pay her no mind, Cyn. The flight was fine.”
“If you say so,” Mom tells him.
Cyn says, “Well, you know with Brix having such ademandingjob, we haven’t been able to travel much in the last two years, so that’s out of the question, Pops.”
“That’s okay,” Mom says. “You can always go out to eat at a nice restaurant.”
“Yep,” Cyn answers tight-lipped, a smile still pinched on her face like it hurts. It probably does.
