Page 121 of Untying the Knot
“My forehead was too short,” I say, finding myself starting to turtle in.
“Or the time she permed her hair with Nichole. What a disaster. I don’t think she’s ever been uglier than with that perm.”
I push my broccoli around. “We left the solution in too long.”
Ryot squeezes my thigh again. “I bet you were adorable,” he whispers.
“What has Myla told you about us?” Mom asks, clearly fishing for incriminating evidence.
“What has she told me about you two? Well, that you were both very successful in the Air Force. Mr. Moore was an engineer and you, Mrs. Moore, were a therapist. That you’ve moved around a lot. Uh . . . oh, and she’d never had s’mores, which I thought was kind of funny—”
“Because she was overweight as a child, and we didn’t want to encourage her journey to obesity.”
“Mom,” I say, feeling so humiliated that my heart is nearly pounding out of my chest.
“Is it not true? Being a daughter of parents in the military, you’d think she’d have more control around a breadbasket.”
“That’s enough,” Dad says, finally speaking up. “We’re here to meet Ryot, not travel down memory lane.”
I want to throw my dad an appreciative smile for changing the topic, but I also think he should have stepped in sooner. I’m his daughter, after all. He shouldn’t let my mom sit there and berate me like that. He might not say anything, but his silence is just as bad. And that’s more prevalent than ever as I sit here with Ryot. When I’m alone with them, I let the insults just roll off me because what am I really going to do? But now that someone else hears what my mom has to say to me, it’s creating this overwhelming sense of deep-rooted anger that’s been there for years. But because I have no voice where they’re concerned, that anger rolls into a ball of humiliation for being unable to muster the confidence to stand up for myself.
After a few bouts of silence, Ryot says, “Dinner is very good, Mrs. Moore.”
“Thank you,” she says tersely, and I can only imagine the sort of wrath my dad is going to face when we leave.
“So where are you from?” Dad asks, trying to break the tension as well.
“Maine, a small town called Bright Harbor off the coast. Born and raised. I took Myla there over winter. It’s my favorite time of the year because the town makes it their mission to put you in the Christmas spirit.”
“Did you like it, Myla Bean?” Dad asks.
“It was beautiful. Like a town you’d find in a Lovemark movie.”
“You mean those unrealistic movies where bumbling women focus on finding love?” Mom asks as she cuts into one of her biscuits.
No one responds, so Ryot says, “Actually, the town next to ours is Port Snow, which is famous for a shop at the end of the harbor called The Lobster Landing. Many Lovemark movies have been shot there. When we visited, I took Myla around and showed her all the different landmarks movies have featured.”
“That must have been fun,” Dad says.
“It was,” I answer. “One of my favorite trips ever. Not to mention, the countryside during the winter was beautiful.” And how when I walked into his parents’ house, I was immediately enveloped in love.
“I’m sure,” Dad replies and then looks at Ryot. “Does that mean you’re a lobster man?”
Ryot chuckles. “It does. Until my dying day, I will always say that Maine lobster is the best lobster.”
“Did you have some when you were there?” Dad asks me.
“I did.” I smirk and glance at Ryot. “It was okay.”
“Okay?” Ryot asks, feigning insult.
I chuckle. “I preferred the baked bean sandwich.”
“What’s that?” Dad asks.
“A New England specialty,” I answer. “This one had baked beans, cheddar, apples, and mustard on it.”
“Horrendous way to pack fat on your hips,” Mom says as she stuffs a piece of broccoli in her mouth.
