Her smile wavered as she climbed the steps. “I brought muffins.”
“What kind?” her mother asked.
“It’s an assortment,” Tam said, reaching the porch. “Blueberry, peach, and lemon poppyseed.”
“I want the blueberry,” Daddy said, getting up to hug Tam. She clung to him without meaning to, and when he tried to pull away and realized it, he held on tight. “Oh, okay.” He patted her back. “What’s wrong, baby?”
Her mom got up and took the muffins she held against her father’s back and asked, “Tamara? You’re crying, sweetheart.”
“Blaine broke up with me,” she said, her eyes burning like the devil himself had lit them on fire. “Or I broke up with him. Something.”
Don’t call me. We’re done.
She pulled away from her father, heaving in the largest breath she could. It stuck in her throat, and she choked.
“Come sit down,” Momma said. “Kenny, move that box.” Her mother took her by the arm and led her to the rocking chair. “Tell us everything.”
Tam just shook her head, because she couldn’t retell the story. She felt like she’d lived a thousand years in the course of a single night, and she couldn’t rub any more sand in her eyes.
“It’ll work out,” Daddy said as he brought out another chair and sat down. “You and Blaine are like left and right. You work together so well.” He looked at Momma. “Tell her, Shirley.”
“Look at her, Ken.”
Tam looked down at her hands, her embarrassment and shame too much to hold upright. “I’m going to miss him so much.”
“Just go talk to him,” Momma said.
Tam shook her head. “I can’t.” This pain would fade. She’d endured a similar situation when Hayes had left, and she knew if she just put in enough time, she’d start to feel like herself again.
“What happened?” Momma asked again.
“What kind of muffin do you want, my Tams?” Daddy asked.
“Lemon poppyseed,” she said. “Please.” She lifted her gaze to her father’s. “I just came because I belong here. Can you just let me be? I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Of course,” Momma said, leaning back in her chair. “You absolutely belong here, Tam. You belong with that man, too.”
“Well, he doesn’t want me,” Tam said miserably. “I’m not saying another word. I’m going to eat my muffin, and I’m going to get some potato chips later, and if you really wanted me to feel better, you’d make those caramel chocolate chip brownies.”
Momma chuckled and closed her eyes. “I can do that.”
Tam took the top off her lemon poppyseed muffin and took a bite. The large chunks of sugar combined well with the tart lemon, and Tam moaned as the flavors exploded across her taste buds.
“I’ll go get some milk,” Daddy said. “Or do you want juice, Tam? Coffee?”
“Milk,” Tam said, because she wanted to feel young again. She didn’t want to think about how old she was, and how she’d been transported all the way back to the starting line. Worse, as she had to figure out how to get back to the race at all.
After Hayes had left, she’d sat on the sidelines for a long time, and if she did that again, she’d be thirty-seven before she even suited up and arrived at the starting line.
Then what?she asked herself. Dating around. Dating apps. Getting to know a man took a long time, and when Tam looked to the future now, all she saw was a blank slate.
Nothing.
There was nothing for her anymore.
The morning wore on, and Momma and Daddy spoke to one another in calm voices about a neighbor, then about a movie they wanted to see, and then about the groceries they needed. Daddy left to do that, and Momma went into the kitchen to start on the brownies Tam wanted.
She dozed in the rocking chair, the relief from her thoughts what she hoped heaven would be like. Free from worry or care. Happiness and light and joy.