Page 78 of The Design of Goodbye
“It’s perfect,” he said. And honestly, it really did fit him well. Even the arms, which I’d been the most nervous about, were the perfect length.
“Oh!” I pulled out a black beanie from the gift bag and placed it on his head. “Now it’s perfect.”
He smiled, grateful. I wished I could freeze this moment forever.
“This is the best gift I’ve ever received.”
His comment rendered me momentarily speechless because, if he was always honest with me, then he wasn’t saying that to make me feel good.
“I’m glad you like it,” I said. “I almost didn’t give it to you.”
“I’m very happy you did.”
“So,” I started, wanting to keep up the conversation for a little longer, “how was your Thanksgiving?”
His good mood instantly vanished, and I regretted the question. “I worked.”
“You didn’t celebrate with your family after?”
He didn’t speak. Instead, he shook his head, like he couldn’t find the words or trust himself to talk.
“Oh, Liam,” I said sadly. “Why didn’t you tell me? You could’ve come over.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “How was your holiday? And the pumpkin pie?”
“It was amazing, but other than that, it was terrible.”
“What happened?”
“Dad and I got in a fight. My mom’s favorite dish at Thanksgiving was always the green bean casserole—”
“Really? But what about the—”
“Mashed potatoes,” we said at the same time.
He laughed softly, and it was enough to ease my mood to continue.
“My dad and I hate green bean casserole, but I got mad he didn’t make it. I wanted Thanksgiving to feel normal, even though it wasn’t. I know it sounds silly.”
Every day, I tried so hard to not upset my dad, but in that moment, I hadn’t been able to control my emotions. I’d taken all my pent-up anger and sadness and directed it at him—the one person who had always been there for me. I hoped he understood I hadn’t been upset with him. I’d been upset with my mom.
“It doesn’t,” said Liam, breaking me out of my memories. “I understand.”
Like always, he made me feel better with a laugh and a few words. “I’m glad it’s over.”
“Me too.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. “You seem sad. Are you doing okay?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to be. I love the jacket.”
“I know you do. You wanna talk?”
“It’s...”He gave me a broken smile, like he was trying hard to keep it together. “Holidays are really hard.”
My throat tightened, and my eyes prickled. “Do you want to tell me why?”
He shook his head.
