Page 19 of Can't Kiss the Chef

“Yeah, I have no classes today.”

“Well, make sure you take some time to think about what you want for your future family,” Mom said, disappointment dripping from every word.

“Will do.” I hung the phone up before I said something I couldn’t take back.

That’s how I ended up laying on my bed with a pillow over my face screaming.

It doesn’t make me feel any better.

All I want is to have that family that everyone thinks we have. The one people see when they get our Christmas card every year.

I have to choose to do what’s best for me. Ever since I changed my major, a nagging feeling has been sitting in my chest, that the relationship with my parents has been put to bed and it might never wake up.

I grab my car keys, and once I get to my car, I pick a playlist that I can belt out every song. Rolling all my windows down to the fresh air has my hair flying around the car.

The tension in my shoulders eases as the view of Downtown Westvale fades into the rolling hills of rural New York.

The half-hour drive to Blissful Stables is over in the blink of an eye. I pull into the first open parking spot and wait out the 5 Seconds of Summer song that just started. Double check my backpack to make sure the treats I packed for Cookie are still safely tucked inside.

My phone screen flashes right as the song ends, and when I pick it up, I see a text from my sister. I roll my eyes, tossing my phone into the side pocket of my bag.

I love Penny, but we couldn’t be more different. She is a great older sister but our relationship was doomed from the beginning. My parents weaponized our relationship, pinning us against each other.

She’s the perfect daughter. High school class valedictorian. Earned a 4.0 GPA as a pre-med major at The University Of Pennsylvania and currently is in her second year of medical school at Yale. She always followed the rules, has no tattoos, and is everything they wanted in a child. It only made my rebellious ways more of a disappointment.

I’ll text her after my ride, I tell myself. Hoping some time with Cookie will remind me that my sister doesn’t deserve to take the brunt of the anger directed at my parents.

When I get to Cookie’s stall, my saddle is ready and I have to do nothing other than jump on her. I walk over to the stall where Charlotte keeps her horse, and I’m shocked that she is preparing to go on a ride, too.

“Hey,” I say when she looks my way. “Did you get Cookie ready for me?”

“When you texted me that you were coming here last minute I figured you’d want to spend as much time riding as possible.”

It’s funny, at first, I wanted to come for a ride because the weather is beautiful and if you have ever lived in the northeast, you know that we have to take advantage of days like this. The universe may have been preparing me for the phone call from my parents.

“Yeah, want to just ride on the back trails today?”

She jumps on Nigel– yes, that is her horse– and trots outside to the trails behind the barn.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I yell at her back.

When I get back to Cookie, I run my hand down her back. Just being near her makes me feel so much more grounded. So much more like myself.

“Thanks for always being here for me,” I whisper to her. She nuzzles up to my side, and I pat her nose.

A swift wind blows through the valley the second I get into the sun. It’s refreshing.

“I’ll follow you.”

A second later, I’m surrounded by large oak trees that make me feel small and inconsequential. In a few weeks, the leaves will start to change. I’d take that scenery against a city skyline any day of the week.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Charlotte asks, not looking back at me.

“No, nothing new. Just the same old shit.”

It’s true. Even if we talk about it, nothing changes. I’ve been doing some version of this dance with my parents for almost a decade now. It’s just not worth the wallowing. I just want to take in the fresh air and live in the moment.

“Indy texted me today and asked if I wanted to come to a pregame at the hockey house. Are you planning on going?” This time, she looks back and Cookie decides to keep walking until Charlotte and I are side by side.

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