Three Christmas Wishes. Sheila Roberts

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      Her crying increased in volume. How could this have happened to her? It was like getting hit by a tidal wave. She grabbed a box of tissues from the bathroom and, hugging it like a long-lost friend, planted herself on her couch and cried some more.

      The fold-out turkey centerpiece she’d found at Daily’s Drugstore sat on her dining room table, mocking her. She’d envisioned Sean and her starting their happy life together, sitting at that table every morning, having breakfast before they went off to work, then enjoying a cozy dinner for two when they returned home.

      Sean would still be enjoying a cozy dinner for two. Just not with her. She grabbed another tissue.

      It only took her half an hour to go through every tissue in the box. She needed something sturdier. Paper towels.

      There on the kitchen counter, next to the paper towel dispenser, sat the pumpkin pies. She wished she hadn’t offered to bring them. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. She loved to bake, and Mom had her hands full with the rest of dinner. She’d been excited to show off her culinary artwork to the rest of the family, imagined the oohs and aahs as everyone savored each pumpkiny bite.

      No way did she want to go to the family dinner now, not when life as she knew it had come to an end. She put the pies in the fridge and called her sister.

      “Hey, there,” Jo answered. “Gobble, gobble.”

      Gobble, gobble. Happy Thanksgiving. “I can’t go to Mom and Dad’s,” Riley wailed.

      “What? What’s wrong?”

      “You have to come get the pies.”

      “What do you mean? Are you sick?”

      “It’s Sean. He...he...”

      “He’s sick.”

      “No.”

      “He’s dead!”

      “Nooo.”

      “Then what? Oh, no. He broke up with you,” Jo guessed, quickly arriving at the correct conclusion. There was only one thing as bad as Sean dying, and he had done it.

      “Y-yes,” Riley sobbed.

      “What’s his problem?”

      “Emily.”

      “Emily?”

      “They’re...they’re...” Riley couldn’t finish the sentence.

      “That be-atch,” Jo growled. “That sneaky little fake friend. I’ll be right over.”

      The pie problem solved, Riley took the roll of paper towels and returned to the couch. Maybe she’d see if Jo could bring home some leftovers for her...in case she ever wanted to eat again. She hated to miss Thanksgiving dinner but the thought of facing everyone was more than she could bear. She’d be a real dinner buzzkill, sitting there like the world’s biggest loser, crying into her candied yams.

      Ten minutes later Jo was at the door. And not only Jo but Mom and Grammy, too, neither of whom would leave the kitchen on Thanksgiving Day unless the world was coming to an end. Oh, no. This was so humiliating.

      Until they rushed her and gave her a group hug, everyone standing in the entryway like a giant amoeba.

      The amoeba slowly moved to the living room, Grammy and Mom flanking Riley on the couch, and Jo and her giant tummy settling in a nearby chair.

      “That boy,” Grammy said in disgust. “I never liked him. He was selfish.” This was because at Thanksgiving the year before, Sean had eaten the last piece of huckleberry pie, which Grammy had planned on taking home and having for breakfast the next morning. It hadn’t mattered that he’d been unaware of her plans for that piece of pie. As far as she was concerned, he still shouldn’t have eaten it.

      More evidence of how unworthy Sean was began to come out. “Remember how cheap he was on Valentine’s Day?” Jo reminded Riley. “A bag of M&Ms instead of a box of chocolates.”

      “But I like M&Ms,” Riley said.

      “It was still cheap. And he didn’t even take you to a nice restaurant. Bubba’s Bar-B-Q? Really?”

      “You’re well rid of him,” Mom agreed. “Heaven knows who else he’s cheated with this past year.”

      “Now, there’s something to be thankful for,” said Grammy.

      “That he cheated on me?”

      “That you discovered what a weaselly cheater he is before you got married.”

      “He had to wait till three weeks before the wedding to do it?” The humiliation, the disappointment. Oh, the wrongness of it all.

      “That is a little inconvenient,” Mom conceded. “But nothing we can’t handle. We’ll start calling the guests tonight.”

      “I’ll text all the cousins,” Jo offered.

      “See? It’s going to be fine,” Mom assured Riley.

      “And look on the bright side,” Jo added. “Now you don’t have to work out at the gym.”

      No. Emily would be doing that, right alongside Sean. Riley sniffed.

      “One less Christmas present to buy,” Grammy said with a nod that made her glasses bob on her nose.

      Christmas. Riley had been envisioning their first Christmas as a married couple—getting up in the morning and drinking hot chocolate, opening their presents. She’d already bought Sean’s, a tool set she’d found online with everything from wrenches to Phillips screwdrivers. Well, she needed a tool set. And she could still drink hot chocolate.

      All by herself. She burst into fresh tears.

      “We’re not going to let this ruin our Thanksgiving,” Mom said firmly.

      Was she kidding? “I’m not coming,” Riley said.

      “Not coming!” Mom and Grammy chorused.

      “I can’t.” How could they expect her to face everyone after what had just happened?

      “Now, baby,” Grammy said, putting an arm around Riley’s shoulders, “When you take a fall you have to climb back on the horse.”

      “I didn’t fall,” Riley protested. “I was dumped.”

      “Doesn’t matter,” Mom said. “Your grandmother’s right. You don’t want to be alone at a time like this. You need your family. And besides, if you sit here and mope, think of the power you’re giving him.”

      “I’m not giving him any power. I’m just... Guys, can’t you let me mourn?”

      “Absolutely not,” Mom insisted. “Now, go shower and dress. We’ll wait.”

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