Page 19 of What Comes After

I hadn’t even gotten myself downstairs yet, and the smells were wafting up into my bedroom.

My parents were down in the kitchen preparing for my fourteenth birthday party. It was a Saturday, early October, and I was having a small party with some extended family and friends from both the neighborhood and school.

We weren’t doing anything spectacular; there were no events planned. All I wanted was good food, family, and friends.

That’s it.

And my parents were going above and beyond to give me the very best they had to give of it.

Because, again, I was still up in my bedroom, and the aromas of my favorite foods were curling around me. It was the scent of melted cheese from my mom’s homemade mac and cheese recipe mixed with the smoke.

Yes, smoke.

Rich, sweet smoke from my dad’s smoked beef brisket.

My mom’s mac and cheese was divine, but nothing could top dad’s brisket. Technically, any meat that my dad made in his smoker left little else to be desired. He’d made an art of smoking meat.

God, I was practically drooling just thinking about it.

Uninterested in trying to make myself look pretty for the occasion, I dragged my brush through my hair, pulled on my favorite pair of jeans, and yanked a sweatshirt over my head.

The weather had been slightly cooler than average this year, which I loved. Fall was my favorite season, especially living in Iris, a quaint little town in the Smoky Mountain region of Tennessee. The leaves had started to change color already, and over the next several weeks, the scenery would be breathtaking. I lived for the gorgeous view.

For now, for today, it was the taste and smell of my parents’ homemade cooking that I’d be living for.

I walked out of my room, descended the stairs, and made my way to the kitchen. As soon as I stepped in, I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath.

“There’s nothing better in the whole world,” I declared.

“Your dad really outdid himself with the brisket for you, Devyn,” my mom said.

I gave her a nod of agreement as I moved closer to where the two of them were working at the small kitchen counter. How they’d managed to work so well together in a kitchen of this size was beyond me.

The moment I was close to the counter, my dad set a plate down in front of me. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

He hadn’t loaded it up, but I loved that my dad insisted on giving me the first taste of my birthday meal just minutes before anyone was set to arrive. He’d given me just enough of his barbecue brisket and mom’s mac and cheese to tease me.

“Thanks, Dad. It smells so good,” I replied.

Offering a smile, he urged, “Well, tell us how it tastes. We’ve been waiting for you to let us know if any of it needs to be tweaked.”

I already knew it wouldn’t need anything, but since I wanted it in my mouth, I decided not to share that just yet. Instead, I lifted the fork with mom’s mac and cheese to my mouth. Warm, cheesy, creamy, and comforting.

I followed that up with dad’s brisket. After chewing for several seconds, the explosion of flavor in my mouth being simply divine, I shifted my attention between my parents and smiled.

“Just as I suspected. It’s all perfect.”

“You like it?” my mom pressed.

“I love it,” I assured her. “I’ll never get tired of having this meal.”

“Well, at least you know where to go and who to ask whenever you want it,” my dad noted.

Truer words had never been spoken.

I adored the relationship I had with my parents. They weren’t rich and certainly couldn’t give me everything I might have thought I wanted in my life, but they gave me the most important things I needed.

Love, comfort, and safety.

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