Page 14 of A Miracle for the Reserved Flyboy

“Yes, yes, I know, but if youwanteda blue car, for example,” her mother continued, fidgeting with her napkin, “no one is forcing you to have a red car. We just want you to be happy, because we love you.”

Her dad muttered something into his coffee as he flipped his newspaper, looking resigned to this morning’s strange conversation.

Krista stifled a sigh, keeping her tone calm. “Mom, I like my red car just fine.”

Her mother’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Maybe I’m making a mess of this,” she admitted, wringing her hands as her father muttered something about breakfast going cold. “But if, one day, you decided you wanted a motorcycle instead of a car, you know, we just want you to know that we would… support you.”

“Mom, I’m really not following,” Krista replied, pushing her plate aside. “Are you seriously asking about motorcycles and cars when all I want is to finish my coffee? I have fittings today, rehearsal, and I’m supposed to help a few friends meet up?—”

“That! Right there!” her mother interrupted, practically bouncing with excitement. “That’s why I brought up the motorcycles! If you need a motorcycle, that’s fine with us! Parade it around town! Just… be happy. We love you.”

Krista paused, her head tilting in bewilderment. “Mom, did you hit your head? Dad, care to explain?”

Her father finally put down his paper, looking her straight in the eye. “Krista, your mother’s trying to say… if you’re in the closet, you can come out. You’re still our daughter.”

Krista’s jaw dropped as she took in her parents’ faces, her dad stoic but amused and her mom looking so hopeful she practically sparkled. “Wait…seriously?”

“Krista, we just want you happy, that’s all.”

She pressed her palm to her forehead, exasperation bubbling up as she looked at them both. “Mom. Dad. I’m not gay,” she said, her voice flat. “And you’re comparing this to trading a car for a motorcycle? Seriously?”

Her mother’s expression turned curious. “So… you’re in love with someone, then?”

“No!” Krista snapped, her cheeks heating up. Her thoughts immediately flitted to Gary. “Falling in love isn’t as simple as picking out a car model. It’s terrifying, life-altering—it’s not just a new ride in the driveway!”

Her mother looked momentarily confused, then softened. “But why would it be terrifying? Falling in love is wonderful!”

“I’m not discussing this,” Krista declared, pushing away from the table. “I’m done with breakfast—and for the last time, I’mnotgay. I’m just… really, really bad at my own relationships, that’s all. If you must know, I’m better at helping other people find love than myself. And honestly,” she continued, voice tightening, “I’d rather go drive around town feeling like a loser than sit here while you two dissect my love life behind the scenes, wondering what’s wrong with me.”

She stood, arms crossed, as her parents looked at each other, speechless. “And for the record,” she added, tone dripping with sarcasm, “There is nothing wrong with me except that I’m afraid to put all my eggs in anyone else's basket. My eggs aren’tbroken, rotten, they aren't fertilized, or out of season, pickled, or anything else that you could possibly do with eggs… but they are mine, and I’m really protective – and no! Before you start to discuss that, it’s a euphemism, and I’m not pregnant.” Both of her parents were staring at her like she’d lost her mind completely. “I’mnotpregnant, gay, oranythingelse – just really lonely and a little pissed off.”

Hours later,Krista was still stewing.

Nothing was going right for her, and a part of her felt like everyone was looking at her strangely. If her mother had been talking with her friends about her ‘car versus motorcycle’ theory, then it was sure to be everywhere… which would not help her dating situation – or lack thereof.

Then there was Gary…

She sighed painfully, looking at her watch. Maybe it was time to take a few things into her own hands. She was a grown woman living at home because it was so much easier financially, but it was taking a toll on her personal life. It wasn’t like she didn’t want a relationship… she did! The craving for the whole shindig was almost overwhelming to the point that she could taste it.

Krista didn’t want a big fancy marriage, some grand house, or a dramatic proposal… she just wanted someone to look at her like she was special, like she was theirs. The idea of being important to another being, to make them happy, to light up their day, was so satisfying to her soul and part of the reason she started dabbling in matchmaking.

Her first crush had been in middle school and she had been so enamored of little Tommy Smith that it was almost overwhelming. Every time she saw him, she smiled. Shefollowed him in the hallways of the school like a puppy dog. He was so kind to her, so polite, and her naïve heart had insisted that he felt the same way about her… until the school dance. She overheard him talking with some of the other boys, mocking her and making fun of her.

That is when the walls went up.

She was deathly afraid of being hurt again. Her heart was soft, fragile, and longed for love, but she was so scared that if she let someone in once more that it would all fall apart once more. As she grew, those fears did, too. ‘The bigger they are, the harder they fall’ took on a whole new meaning in her head – one that was debilitating.

“Hey…”

Krista looked up at the voice from her seat and saw Gary standing there – and swallowed. It was like her very own angel had appeared to keep her from sinking into that mental abyss that threatened her happiness.

“Hey yourself,” she replied easily, smiling at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I happened to have an extra cup of praline-flavored coffee with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top and thought you might like it?” he began and hedged for a moment, looking at the chair nearby that was covered in a few costumes that had been haphazardly tossed there.

Krista immediately moved into action, yanking them off and clearing the seat for the man so he could join her. He easily swung his leg over the seat, reminding her of a cowboy slinging a leg over a saddle, and sat down before handing her one of the cups.

His warm eyes held hers, and she hesitated. She didn’t want to think about their fingers touching, the way he looked so handsome in his crisp red button-up shirt. He was obviouslydressing the part of the holidays, making her wonder if he enjoyed this season as much as she did.

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