Chapter Text
The first and last boyfriend Lucy's parents ever approved of from the start was (to absolutely no one's surprise) Chris Sanford.
"He's a keeper," her mom expressed through a whisper in Lucy's ear the first time they met, some of her excitement pushing spit out as she talked. She and Chris were working on meandering their way out the front door of her childhood home after a nice family dinner as her mom sounded absolutely desperate. Please marry him, Lucy. It's the only smart choice you are making in your life at the moment Vanessa may as well have been saying as Patrick stood silently next to her, a hand curled around her waist. He was a man of few words on most occasions but she could tell that he approved of Chris through the gleam in his eye, the gentle smile and the way he and Chris talked golf over dinner.
And of course they liked Chris. There really wasn't a reason not to. It was honestly just Lucy at the time who wished that their relationship did something for her. Pushed her towards being able to envision a future with someone who was wonderful and kind (even if his first impression wasn't something to gush about). But instead it all just fell flat. Like there was something missing that he nor the approval of her parents would ever be able to fill. So she broke up with him a week later much to his confusion.
"What? I thought things were going really well, Lucy. I don't understand."
And Lucy never meant to hurt him or string him along, though she knows she's guilty. She just wanted more. She needed more. She knew she should have felt more.
November 2022
"I'm just telling you, don't take it personally if they don't like you." Lucy reached across and slid two of her fingers down his forearm, tracing muscle and vein along the way. She curled her fingers around his before she trailed forward in a mumble, "sometimes I wonder if they even like me."
Tim snorted and stole a glance her way before turning his attention back to the road that stretched on for the last half mile in front of them.
"What?" She prodded with raised brows.
"Nothing! I just..."
Lucy fixed him with a look as he stumbled over his words, trying to find the right ones. "You know what—" he shook his head—"nevermind. I'm gonna stop myself before I say something stupid."
Lucy let out a short burst of laughter and squeezed his hand. "It's a safe space, Tim. You can say whatever you want."
It was a challenge. He heard it in her voice, he looked back over and saw it there in her eyes, daring him to continue.
Tim started again with a grunt. "I just think that—" he lifted up their intertwined hands, trying to gesticulate to further get the point he was trying to make across—"you're a hard person not to like. What? With all your sunshine and rainbows-"
"Excuse you!"
"And badassery," he quickly added on. He brought the back of her hand up to his mouth, and pressed a smirk of a kiss into her skin. "If your parents don't like you, they are missing out on the incredible person they raised."
Lucy blinked at him, sort of in awe, and she couldn't decide whether she wanted to laugh or cry or both. The look must have burned along his cheek bone and jaw because she saw a muscle twitch there and he turned to enquire about what she wanted. "Can you believe that I literally used to be the bane of your existence?"
"That's not true!"
It was Lucy's turn to snort at his squeaky defense now. "Okay." It echoed above the noise of the clicking turn signal as he pulled into her childhood neighborhood. She glanced out the passenger window of his truck and put her hand on the cool glass as if she could reach out and feel the nostalgia emanating from every home and yard she'd ever stepped foot in.
"Hey," she heard him call softly towards her, pulling her back to him after she'd wandered off into a short reel of memories. Tim's hand had squeezed hers gently before he pulled away to put the truck in park. Lucy turned to look at him. "You," he swallowed, and reached out to tuck an unruly strand of hair behind her ear that had unraveled from her perfectly curated top-knot. His hand cupped the side of her face, and his thumb came to rest along her cheek bone. "You are the reason I'm still here and standing. Never the bane of my existence even if it felt like that at the start. So whatever happens once we step through that door, we'll still be standing once we leave."
His words tucked themselves away inside of her and she looked back at him with fondness as warmth flooded to the pit of her stomach. They'd only been dating for 3 months at the time, but everything between them had felt right to Lucy in a way it never had before.
She felt safe, but not in the way of playing it safe.
Safe as in home.
The complete opposite of what she felt walking over the threshhold of her childhood home and taking a seat at the dining room table, her posture rigid against the chairs, her parents a whole world away from her.
Dinner was an interrogation that night to put it lightly. Lucy ate her dinner fast, fork scraping against her plate as she shoveled Beef Ho Fun into her mouth at warp speed. She looked like a maniac compared to Tim next to her who barely ate at all, mindlessly pushing the noodles and meat around his plate as he fielded the questions that were seeped in judgement and condescension.
"Do you not like what I've cooked, Tim?" He fumbled over Vanessa's question for a second. "You've barely eaten at all."
Lucy's fork clinked against her plate as she carelessly dropped it against the porcelain. Tim jumped at the noise and Lucy folded her fingers into his underneath the table. She knew Tim would like the meal, Lucy had made it for him before. Her mother was just barely giving him the chance to actually eat.
"Don't answer that, Tim." He pressed his fork into a piece of beef and twirled a noodle around the metal prongs. Tim took a large bite as Lucy continued. "Mom," Vanessa hummed, "he'd be able to eat if you would stop hurling questions at him left and right, expecting answers."
"Your father and I are just trying to get to know him, sweetie."
"Bullshit." There was a tug on her hand and Lucy's name a whisper on Tim's lips. She knew that he was more than capable of defending his own honor, but God, she'd go to battle for this man. "Dad looks like he wants to be anywhere but here, and you are doing nothing but criticizing and twisting Tim's words to fit the narrative you've already built up about him in your head just because he's a cop, or he used to be my supervisor, or he's older than me, or whatever the hell else."
"Lucy," her mother's voice was a warning.
"No—" Lucy shook her head—"We don't have to be here. In fact, I didn't want to be here in the first place, but you know who encouraged this?" They both stared up at her, frozen for a moment, cheeks flushed red from either anger or embarassment. Lucy pointed her thumb at the man sitting next to her. "Tim did. Tim wanted to meet the people who raised me, he wanted to see where I grew up, and before he even stepped into the house, you had already made your judgement. I will not let you continue treating him like this. Treating us like this." Lucy's chair scraped unpleasantly against the tile of the dining room.
"You're being dramatic."
"No, I'm not." She tried to swallow down the lump in her throat as she stood, but her voice still wobbled as she went to speak again. "I love him, he makes me happy, and that's all that matters and should matter to you if you love and care about me. I will not let you ruin this for me. I will not let you ruin the life I have built for myself just because it doesn't meet your impossible standards!"
"Lucy," her father interjected for the first time that night, palm making contact with the table causing the dishes to wobble. His voice was the temperature of the ice running through her veins. Tears began to cut down her cheeks, and she felt Tim's fingers squeeze her hand. "She is your mother. You will not speak to her that way!"
"And you are my parents," Lucy seethed through her teeth. Tim quietly stood from his chair to join her so that she wasn't standing alone. Whatever happens once we step through that door, we'll still be standing once we leave, his voice echoed, giving her more courage to forge forward. "My life, my choices, and the people I love deserve to be treated with love and respect. Until you can find it in yourselves to do so, I will not be stepping foot inside this house."
Everything after quickly fell together through the blurry vision from her tears. There wasn't time for thinking or more words on her end as Tim tugged her gently towards the front door. Her parents were still left speechless at the dining table as Tim helped Lucy into her coat.
"I'll be right back. Don't move," he said low against the shell of her ear, brushing his mouth against the whisps of hair tucked behind it. A cry in the shape of his name muscled its way out and she reached for the hem of his shirt as he turned away from her. "Lucy," his fingers grabbed her wrist and detached her hold. He deposited a kiss to her forehead, his words a whisper against her worry lines, "I'll be right back."
She watched him then, tears in her eyes as his soles retraced their steps. There was a warmth that hid against her breastbone, then an ache that washed its way over her as his voice echoed back to her, bidding her parents goodbye. She found herself beginning to cry harder.
After that night, Tim had texted her parents a few times, unbeknownst to Lucy. She didn't fully understand how he'd managed to get their numbers or what his objective was to begin with. Nor did she need him fighting for approval of their relationship when she'd been trying to gain approval from them her whole life.
"Would you feel better if I let you read the messages?"
Lucy stared at the phone held out to her and a flash of pain rolled through her. Realistically she knew that Tim never meant to hurt her by doing this but she couldn't help the way it tore through her as everything from that night bouyed to the surface, and all it took was seeing her dad's name flash across his phone.
Lucy buried her nose against the macrame pillow and squeezed her eyes shut trying to unsee it. "No," the words came out muffled against the yarn. She then paused as suddenly a war waged within her between what she wanted and what she needed.
Her need won out.
Tim pressed the phone into her palm. She didn't read the most recent text from her father, not at first. Instead she scrolled all the way back to the beginning of the group message (her mother included) and began to stare at what was in front of her.
It was a picture of her at the very top. She cleared the tears from her eyes to make sure she wasn't seeing things and then furrowed her brows in Tim's direction. He gently squeezed her thigh in response.
"Just keep reading."
Lucy shook her head free of confusion, and tucked back some strands of hair that had fallen loose around her face. If the time stamp on the picture was anything to go off of, the picture was taken the night they got home from the dinner from hell.
Tim took good care of her that night, she remembered that so well. He drew her a hot bubble bath not long after they had stepped into the foyer of his home. And though he was not one for baths himself, he still sat on the tile next to the tub as she soaked herself in lavender bubbles, Kojo at his feet, their presence a beacon of safety as she processed the evening and he asked her what she needed.
She just needed him, she remembered telling him. But the way he pressed kisses into her arm and along her shoulder, the soft brush of his fingers through her hair, and the assist in running her green loofah over her heat flushed skin, was all an overwhelming act of love that brought the tears back to her eyes. He didn't hesitate to brush them away and Lucy sighed through the well of emotion in her throat. "You're too good to me."
Tim's eyes twinkled back at her—they did that sometimes. "Nonsense," he denied, and pushed himself to his feet. She watched as he grabbed her towel, and her pruny hands and feet were suddenly thankful for their impending break as he held it open for her. "You ready?" Lucy nodded. Goosebumps skittered across the planes of her body as she stood, a shiver running down her spine. "Come 'ere," he gently pulled her in with his voice. Lucy stepped into his arms and he folded her into the soft fabric.
She was warm there. She was safe. The evening melted away, slinking down their intertwined bodies and onto the bathroom floor.
They stayed there together for a short moment after until her teeth started chattering as the cold settled back over her. "Lucy," Tim laughed, and reached towards the closed lid on the toilet, the neatly folded stack of clothes he had grabbed for her piled on top. He popped one of his hoodies over her head and then patiently waited for her to pull on a pair of underwear and leggings from her duffel, tie her hair up, wash her face, and brush her teeth. Not a second after her toothbrush hit the holder did he sweep her off her feet and deposit her onto his bed, finding his spot underneath the covers beside her as Kojo rooted around for his spot at the foot of the bed.
"There's leftovers from last night in the fridge. Make sure you eat."
Tim picked up one of her hands and threaded their fingers together, folding them to his chest. His chest vibrated as he talked, his heart beating for her somewhere under there. "Okay, I will."
"Love you."
Her eyes fluttered shut as a rush of breath from his nose skimmed the top of her head. "Love you too."
Lucy assumed it wasn't long after her first slow breath when he snapped the photo of her sleeping peacefully beside him and typed his first message to them.
I've said it once tonight already, and I am saying it again. This is your daughter. This is who you are pushing away. I'm not telling you to fix it, that is your choice alone, but I will be here to constantly remind you of the life that you are choosing to miss out on.
The blue bubble was sent over at 10:56 that night, the read reciepts on. There was only one more message that followed.
This is Tim by the way.
She re-read both messages.
I've said it once tonight already, and-
Wait. What?
She went back to the beginning.
I've said it once tonight already
I've said it once tonight already
I've said it once tonight already
There were a lot of things from that night she had blocked out, but she would have remembered that. When exactly did that happen?
"I'll be right back." His warm breath on her ear took her back, and she could hear the squeak of his soles on the tile all over again.
Of course.
She thought he had just gone back to say goodbye, but he must have had other intentions.
"Lucy," Tim supplied gently as he watched her eyes scan the words over and over and her face contort in confusion and then hurt. He cupped her elbow and she almost didn't register the touch of his hand until she felt him squeeze her gently.
She wondered if her parents had responded to the confrontation in person, because here on the phone they said nothing. There was no attempt at defending themselves or an acknowledgement of the hurt they caused. They didn't even tell Tim to stay out of it, which they would have had every right to. They just read the message, seemingly unnaffected and went on with their lives.
"Did they ever call you after? Did they reach out about what you said?" Lucy watched as he shook his head. "Oh."
"Lucy--"
She held up a hand to stop him, and continued to scroll down. There were more pictures & and a video of her sent over. She was laughing at the kitchen counter, chocolate frosting smeared against the corner of her mouth (that Tim had put there). She was curled up on the couch with Tamara after pizza and movie night in her apartment. She was playing fetch with Kojo in Tim's backyard and giving him kisses on his sweet, blocky head.
They were all genuinely happy moments, all sent on different days and times.
Lucy smoothed a thumb over the last picture of her and Tamara (she missed her), and then scrolled down an inch to see the message from her dad that had lit up the front of Tim's phone an hour earlier, causing her to spiral.
Do you think she would want to meet us for coffee?
Using Tim as a go-between seemed cowardly, and the fact that Tim felt she needed the go-between hurt even worse.
An anger grew inside of her. She didn't need saving. She could do it herself. Which is why Lucy's fingers began to fly across the screen in response, the keys clicking hard underneath her nails. Beside her she heard Tim ask her what she was doing. She purposefully ignored him, pressing send.
Maybe you should talk to her.
She threw the phone against the mattress.
"Lucy," Tim whispered against the skin of her shoulder, like she was fragile. Like she could break. And she fucking hated it. "Lucy," he tried again.
Lucy snapped her head around towards him, and the blue eyes that were pleading for something from her just a second ago now grew wide with a realization that he'd screwed up.
She inhaled deeply and then released the air from her lungs. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, the heat from her anger trying to find an escape. "I didn't need you to save me."
Lucy put distance between them on the bed. Tim bowed his head in defeat. When he opened his mouth to speak again, she cut him off.
"They are my parents, Tim. Mine."
"I know."
"And I made the choice to excuse them from my life for the time being until they could learn to respect who I am and who I love."
"Lucy, I know that."
She blinked at him. How could that be possible when she'd never felt so misunderstood by him? Two twin tears slipped down her cheeks. "But you don't," she shook her head, "not really. Because if you did, you would have respected that decision."
"I-"
"Dammit, Tim!" She wanted to scream, but her voice betrayed her. His own eyes watered back at her. Her chin wobbled. She watched his hands twitch on top of his comforter, like they were fighting to not reach out and touch her. She moved further away. "You took away my choice! You sent them pictures and videos of me living my life without my permission. You practically guilt tripped them into seeing me."
"You don't know that," Tim tried to reassure, and this time he lost the fight. His hands reached for her, and Lucy's flight response immediately activated.
She didn't know that? She, Lucy Chen, the daughter of Patrick and Vanessa Chen, didn't know her own parents? Didn't know how they worked? She'd spent three decades with them. She was well-versed.
Lucy found herself on the other side of the room, back pressed against his dresser. A dresser that she recently just filled with some of her belongings. "Lucy."
It was a plea to come back to the bed. It was an almost trembling fear that she was about to leave.
She hated herself for wanting to.
"I know my parents, Tim." She folded her arms around herself, gripping her fingers into the cerulean blue fabric of his vintage Rams tee. "And I never would have had to question their intentions if you wouldn't have inserted yourself in the first place. I didn't ask for this."
When Lucy walked out of the bedroom door that night, Tim followed close behind on her heels with a frantic apology on his lips. And she heard him, she heard every single word, but it didn't stop the feeling of betrayal that curled up and made itself at home inside of her.
"Tell me how to fix it." He begged and she felt his stare from the entry of the kitchen as she pulled a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water. If there was a solution for it, it wouldn't be found that night. "Lu-"
"Right now—" she wiped a water droplet from her chin and set the glass down on the countertop—"right now, I need space."
His body tensed at the word space, not knowing exactly what that meant when it came to her. They didn't fight like this. She didn't usually need space from him.
"Lucy."
She held up a hand to cut him off before he could say anything else. "I am sleeping in the guest room tonight." I'm not leaving. " We will talk about this in the morning." I promise I'll be here.
"I'm sorry," he whispered between the guest room pillows the next morning. He climbed in next to her right as the sun was starting to rise, and Lucy was too tired to deny him. As he brushed the hair out of her face and kissed her forehead, she found that she had to remind herself why she was angry at him in the first place. "I wasn't trying to save you. I knew you could handle it. I just didn't want you to have to carry the weight of everything alone."
Lucy reached up between them and grabbed his wrist. Her thumb brushed along his pulse point while his brushed along her cheek. "You were already doing more than enough, Tim. All I needed was for you to hold space for me. That was all I asked for."
"I know—" he leaned forward to press a kiss to her mouth and she let him— "I understand now that I overstepped. My actions hurt you and I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
Lucy lay there just staring at him for a moment in all of his sincerity and vulnerability. She was glad she stayed last night, glad they could work things out come morning light. She'd slept like hell last night without him.
"I'm backing away from this. No more texts. But Lucy?" She closed her eyes and hummed. "Your parents deserve to know the life they are choosing to miss out on. You're pretty fucking incredible."
"Tim—" Lucy nuzzled her nose against his chin.
"It's true," he murmured, finding her mouth before pulling her bottom lip in between his own. His hand slid down until he was palming the curve of her backside, and he pulled her flush against his body. "Go to coffee with them." Tim kissed her again. "Or don't." Lucy swung her leg over his hip and gave herself enough leverage to roll him back into the mattress. He tugged at a piece of hair that tickled his jaw. "Do what's going to be best for you, okay?"
"Okay," Lucy breathed. Her lashes fluttered close, and when she opened her eyes back up, an undeniable want that had transpired over the last couple of minutes was reflected back at her. "Hey, Tim?" Lucy rolled her hips against his. Tim let out a low grunt from the back of his throat, and she leaned down to capture the sound with her mouth. "We can stop talking now."
The coffee with her parents was the catalyst.
Not that it was the perfect meet-up by any standards—very far from it actually—but she came into it knowing exactly what she wanted to put on the table and was determined to say her piece.
"This is Officer Lucy Chen. Show me 10-7 personal."
Lucy's boots scuffed along the concrete as she made her way to the front door of Nevin's. It was important to her that she was in control of her environment today. She picked Nevin's because she was comfortable enough with the people that worked there. Her lunch break made the most sense to her because she was under a time constraint. A table right in the middle of the shop meant that her parents would be on their best behavior. Her mother wouldn't take any chances on tarnishing their reputation.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket right as the bell above the door chimed, and there was no time to check Tim's message as her parents walked through the door.
"Lucy," her mother spoke first upon approach, reaching out her arms for a hug. Lucy couldn't remember the last time she felt her mother's touch in the form of a hug. "It's good to see you."
Vanessa pulled back and Lucy clocked the scrunch of her mother's nose as she glanced over Lucy's uniform. Her mother was less than five minutes in and already showing her disdain. Lucy, choosing to swallow her annoyance, looked at her father, hoping for a different reaction.
She had always been a daddy's girl. Patrick was the warmer side when Vanessa was cold, and Lucy gravitated towards that for most of her childhood. His eyes were softer, his mouth smiled more often, and his arms were more welcoming. He listened more than he spoke. He held space for emotions big and small. So when he turned a cold shoulder towards her after she joined the academy, she'd never felt a knife twist so deep. When he'd turned her away while he was in the hospital and never showed up for dinner after she graduated from the FTO program, her world shifted a little on it's axis.
"Daddy," Lucy felt herself whisper. She stepped forward, opened her arms for a hug, and found herself being able to breathe again when he hugged her back.
Her mother cleared her throat from beside them. "Why don't we have a seat."
Lucy pulled a deep breath in and found her seat across from them. The monologue she had planned was now seemingly muddled. Her first words then interrupted by her father.
"Thank you for meeting us."
Lucy found herself beginning to nod and then shook herself from it. She wasn't here to appease them. "Listen—" she nervously tugged on the sleeves of her windbreaker—"I know I said yes to this, but if this whole thing is because you feel guilt-tripped, I don't want to be here."
Vanessa narrowed her eyes. Patrick swallowed.
"I don't think guilt-tripped is the right word," he responded. He reached for Vanessa's hands on the table and covered them with one of his own. Lucy watched as he squeezed twice in some sort of calming gesture. "We know that we have not made things easy for you, especially these last few years of your life."
Lucy watched Patrick turn to Vanessa, quietly willing her to speak with his eyes. Vanessa shifted in her chair and pulled her hands to her lap. "Obviously we have had a really hard time with some choices you have made."
"Mom-" Lucy tried to cut in, feeling the frustration claw at her throat. She'd heard the speech enough, but Vanessa clearly didn't think so as she dismissed her with a flick of the wrist.
Lucy stared at Vanessa's palm, open in a 'stop talking' gesture. "It's true, Lucy." Her mother's eyes roamed over Lucy's uniform again, and Lucy could tell she was at least trying to hide her distaste this time. "We had a lot of dreams for you. There was a plan, and when that plan shifted-"
"You mean when I quit grad school and joined the Academy?"
Her mother forged on. "When that plan shifted, we felt like we had lost you and in turn lost so much of the time and effort we spent helping you get to where you needed to be."
Funny how she didn't remember much help from them, only pressure. Lucy's head spun.
Back then, maybe she could have seen it as her parents just really believing in her and pushing her forward. But then she began to shift and started making decisions for her future on her own, and that support quickly transformed into shame.
They only seemed to believe in the girl that followed their dream, and not her own.
"We felt disrespected."
Lucy tried to rein herself in at her mother's words, but the frustration dug in and pushed itself forward.
"Wow," she let out a bitter chuckle. "Well imagine how I felt under the crushing weight of that plan, trying to be everything you expected me to be, yet, nothing ever seeming good enough." People from the surrounding tables turned to stare as her voice grew louder. Lucy scrubbed her hands down over her face, took a deep breath to calm herself, and then folded them on the table in front of her. She looked up at both of her parents, wanting to make sure she was heard. "The day I discovered my life was never my own was the day I stopped living for you. I finally realized that if I was following your path and it still wasn't good enough for you, then I might as well follow my own path and live the life I want to live."
Her parents sat there for a moment and stared at her. Lucy watched every small movement and twitch. Hurt, shock, simmering anger, she wasn't sure what it was. Patrick sighed, and both Lucy and Vanessa turned their focus to him.
"We didn't come here for a fight, Lucy." Lucy brushed a hand over her hair. Patrick's voice turned a half-notch up in volume. "Listen, we are sorry for the expectations that we put on you," Patrick apologized. "At the time, we didn't see anything wrong with it. We thought it was helping." Lucy swore she heard her eyelids go 'tink, tink' as she blinked at him.
"And now, after you have pushed me away?"
"Lucy," her mother reprimands in a harsh whisper.
"No, I'm serious, mom. How do you feel now? Do you think it helped at all?"
"Well obviously not!"
Patrick's hand sinks to Vanessa's lap. Two squeezes to her hands.
"We may never fully understand why you have chosen the path you have or even like it." He spoke calmly. "We worry for your safety. We worry about who it may turn you into."
A paid bully for the city she heard her mother's words from a past argument ring loud and clear in her head. Tears welled up in her eyes. She tilted her head back and blinked to try and rid herself of them.
"You know—" she shifted around in her seat until her posture was straight—"I never asked you to like what I do, I just wanted you to love me enough to still care about me. To treat me with respect regardless of my career. To not turn a cold shoulder. To not judge who I am or those that I love when maybe it doesn't fit your expectations."
"Lucy—" her father tried to cut in. Lucy shook her head.
"This job has only made me a better person. Stronger, more empathetic, more kind." Lucy pulled a deep breath in. "And I know that there are glaring issues within the system. I have personally come face to face with some pretty fucked up realities when it comes to the job." Lucy thought about Jackson and his situation with Stanton. How he was almost left to die. "But there are people who are in this job that do care. People who put their lives on the line every single day because they want to protect and serve their communities."
"And you don't think that should terrify us?"
"No, it should absolutely scare you. I would be scared." Lucy thought about Tim. How she prayed every day that he would make it back home to her. That she would get to make it back home to him. "I am scared. But that fear only makes me hold on tighter to what and who I love."
Not push them away, she doesn't say.
Things grew quiet between them. Lucy didn't really know what more to say. She felt like she had said everything she could. Everything she wanted to. Now she was just tired.
A hand reached forward to grab her own. Two squeezes. Lucy looked up at her father. He stared back with watery eyes.
"We're sorry." A tear slowly slipped down Lucy's cheek, and landed on the table. "We let our expectations, and our pride and fear get in the way."
Lucy cleared her throat and pulled her hands away. She wiped any residual tears with the back of her hand. "You're my parents. I will always love and respect you. But I need to know how we move forward from here."
"Lucy-"
She cuts her mother off. "I can't keep going through this vicious cycle with you. I need to know if you are ever going to be able to get over your pride and fear or if it is going to continue to be an issue."
"We are always going to be scared for you."
"Then be scared," Lucy yelled, and the people around her began to stare again. She lowered her voice. "But stop letting your fear get in the way of seeing me, actually seeing me. The daughter you raised to have empathy for others, to see the good in others underneath their complicated layers, to be kind. I'm still her. I have always been her."
Lucy hit her hands on the table. "See me. Or I will walk out that door, and I will live my life, and you will lose the privelege and opportunity to be a part of any of it. You will not see me anymore."
It was an ultimatum. It was in their hands. They were either moving forward together or she was moving away from them.
November 2023
"Hi, my little Thanksgiving turkeys! Look at you!" Lucy pulls a brush through her hair, eyes dancing between the bathroom mirror and the screen of her phone. All three of Genny's kids have covered their mom's lap, fighting for Lucy's attention in their matching Charlie Brown Thanksgiving pajamas. Little Charlotte fights her way in between Dax and Oliver, pushing their heads to the side with chubby fists and a loud protest. "Hey, Charlie girl! It's okay. I see you."
"Aunt Lulu! Are you and Uncle T comin' to eat with us today?" Lucy's heart tugs a little at the hopeful grin on Oliver's face. "Mommy & daddy made a turkey, and smashed potatoes. And we decorated cookies this morning while we watched the parades!"
A hand squeezes her shoulder in reassurance from behind, and Lucy watches from the mirror as Tim curls himself around her to join the call. He must have heard the loud commotion coming from the phone while he was in the other room.
Lucy sighs. "Not today, bud," she answers with a frown. A ringing protest filters in through the other side of the phone. "I know, I know. I wish we could be there, but we are going to my parent's house today."
"Will you have turkey, too?" Dax asks, eyes wide with curiosity.
"I bet we will," Lucy tells him, matching the 6 year-old's wonder and energy. Tim inserts himself then, squawking like a turkey in Lucy's ear, making his niece and nephews giggle. "You know what we won't have though?"
The boys lean in closer to the phone so that Tim and Lucy can only see their mouths, green icing staining their teeth. "What?"
"Your cookies you decorated! Can you please show me?"
"Oh yeah! We gotta see those," Tim piped up.
Dax and Oliver excitedly scramble off their mom's lap as Charlotte pulls herself closer to Genny. "Okay! We'll get them really fast—" they hear off camera as the boys run out of the bedroom, calling after their dad. Everything then goes quiet.
"Wow!" Genny breathes through a laugh, brushing her fingers through Charlotte's auburn curls. "I've really gotta stop letting Ryan feed them so much sugar this early."
"Eh," Tim waves her off, "it's Thanksgiving. Let them have fun!"
Both Genny and Lucy glance at eachother and then stare at him with knowing smiles.
"What?"
"Nothing," Lucy giggles with a shake of her head. She turns her head towards him and reaches up to pat him on his cheek. "You're just a sucker!"
Tim grumbles and both women laugh at him until their teasing fest gets interrupted by barefeet trampling loudly down the hallway.
"Be careful with the plate," Ryan's voice trails frantically behind the boys. "Both hands, Dax."
"We are, we are!"
"Dax, that is one hand! Hold it with both!"
"Dad, I am! We have to hurry and show Lulu and Uncle T the cookies!"
"Yeah," Oliver pipes ups, "they don't get cookies on Thanksgiving."
Genny shakes her head at her boys, Lucy bites her lip to hold in her laughter, and Tim buries his smile into Lucy's neck. Ryan appears off to the side of the screen a few seconds later, a little breathless as he whispers a hi to his wife and waves at the phone.
"Hey Ryan," Lucy greets. Tim lifts his head and acknowledges him with a head nod. "How are you? You making it?"
"Barely," he laughs nervously as the boys place the plate of cookies on Genny's vanity. Oliver clambers back onto Genny's lap while Dax leans in from the side. Charlotte begins to loudly protest against her brothers' presence, and Ryan takes the toddler from Genny's arms to try and appease her by blowing raspberries against her cheeks. He only earns a small, grouchy smile before he gives up. "How are you guys?"
"We are good, man," Tim goes to answer for both of them just as the boys start to vie for his and Lucy's attention again. "We-"
"We have the cookies," Oliver interrupts with his outside voice, reaching for the plate. Genny reaches out to grab his unsteady wrist before he spills them everywhere. "Do you wanna see the turkey I made?"
"I made a cornucopia," Dax adds, proud of himself for the big word.
"Boys, your dad is trying to talk to Uncle T and Aunt Lulu. Give them a second."
"No fair!"
Dax and Oliver cross their arms and purse their lips in a pout, looking as if they have never been treated so unfairly. Lucy smiles at them, wanting to reach through the screen and snatch them up into hugs even amidst all of their chaos.
Tim turns his attention back to Ryan. "We are good. Just getting ready to go to Thanksgiving with Lucy's parents."
"Oh yeah. How's all of that going? Any better?" Lucy runs a finger under the sleeve of Tim's Henley.
"Ryan," Genny chides.
"What? I was just wondering."
Genny glances at them apologetically as Tim laughs and Lucy smiles.
"It's getting better," Lucy answers, tapping her fingers against the back of Tim's hands. "Still a work in progress, but better than where we started."
"Good. Glad to hear it!"
Lucy's heart grows warm, knowing that she's cared for, that the things happening in her life, big or small, are important. She's rooted for and cheered on and it isn't something that she has to earn. She can just be.
A small hand pops up on the screen amidst the ongoing small talk. Oliver, not wanting to be forgotten, waits for his turn to speak. Careful not interrupt this time.
"Yes, Oliver?" Genny prompts, brushing her fingers through her son's morning hair.
The 5 year old turns bashful all of the sudden, his voice going quiet. "Can we show them the cookies now?"
"Yeah! Cookies," Dax chants excitedly, bouncing up and down and reaching toward the plate.
All four adults laugh. "Yes, baby," Genny encourages, snagging one of the cookies she had decorated this morning. She takes a bite out of it then dusts the crumbs from the corners of her mouth. "You may show them the cookies."
"Are you sad?"
Lucy can tell the question throws him off guard.
They had a good afternoon after their phone call with Genny—getting ready together, sitting down for a quick sandwhich lunch, loading the truck up with all of the food they were taking for dinner, getting Kojo settled in for the day—so Tim doesn't quite understand where this is coming from.
He turns his attention away from the road for a brief second, and frowns at her from the driver seat. Lucy sighs, and squeezes his hand. "I don't know." Lucy shrugs. "Talking to Genny and Ryan and the kiddos this morning made me miss them. It just made me wonder if you were sad. If you would rather be there with them."
"Lucy-"
"It's okay if you do," she rushes to reassure, "I know that this year has been a learning process with my parents. And things are better, but-"
"I don't," he interrupts.
"You don't what?"
"I don't wish I were there. I mean, I miss them too, but I'm with you, and that's where I want to be." Oh. Lucy doesn't know why that answer surprises her. Her eyes begin to water. "Lucy, are you crying? Don't cry. It's Thanksgiving."
She laughs, and wipes a tear away. "Is that your answer for everything today?" An eyebrow arches above the lens of his sunglasses. "It's Thanksgiving! Eat sugar. It's Thanksgiving! Don't cry."
Tim smiles. "My point is that it's the holidays. This is our first Thanksgiving after moving in together. Neither of us are working. I want to celebrate. I want us to be happy."
Lucy picks at a loose thread hanging off of the hem of her sweater. "I am happy."
Tim looks at her as if he doesn't believe her.
"I am! It just feels complicated."
"Complicated how?"
"Complicated in that this our first time back at their house after everything blew up." Lucy hears the turn signal tick as he pulls into her parent's neighborhood. She squeezes his hand tighter. "And I know we've been repairing things. We've had lunches together, and coffee, and they have been to our house since then. It hasn't been perfect by any means but it feels like it's getting better. I just...I don't know!"
Tim pulls into their driveway and throws the truck in park. He unbuckles his seatbelt, and turns his whole body in his seat to face her. He opens both palms across the console, and she places her hands inside. Three gentle squeezes. I. Love. You.
"It is better," he assures her. Lucy nods. "I think they may even like me now. Possibly more than they like you."
Lucy gives him a wobbly smile at his teasing, knowing he's just trying to take some of the weight off her shoulders. And it does for a moment.
She lets out a deep sigh. "I think I'm just worried that things will blow up again if we step through those doors."
"It's just a house, Lucy."
"I know that."
"Okay, so then you know that it doesn't determine the outcome of this day. Only we do."
She turns her head towards the front windshield. Damn him for being reasonable.
"How about this," he begins to suggest, tugging on her hands. Lucy turns to look at him again. "Your parents won't be home from their Thanksgiving potluck for another couple of hours. We can go inside, you can show me around, and do what we didn't get to do that first time around."
"We have to cook, Tim."
"And we will. There's time," he tells her, like he's solved all of her problems. "But first I want the grand tour of where you grew up. Embarassing photos, favorite spots, everything. I want to see it."
"Who said I had embarassing photos?"
"Oh right," Tim deadpans with a wry smile, "I forgot you were perfect."
Lucy sticks her tongue out at him and pulls her hands away from his so she can open her door. He almost doesn't hear her when she speaks up again through her low voice. "Last one inside takes dish duty."
Tim grumbles that she's a cheater as her feet hit the pavement. She immediately takes off in a headstart.
"Lucy," he yells from behind, his door slamming closed. His sneakers scuff against the concrete in an attempt to catch up. "We have to get the food out!"
"Woops," she taunts, "gotta go burn the memorabilia. Guess you'll have to get it yourself, loser!"
Just as she's about to reach the front door, a set of strong arms swoop her up from behind. She emits a loud screech from her mouth as her feet leave the ground.
"What was that?" He rumbles hot against her ear, turning them around and carrying her back to the truck like she's one of the grocery bags sitting in the backseat.
"People are going to think I am being kidnapped."
Jokes like that still feel too soon but Tim ignores her. "I know you did not just call me a loser."
Lucy laughs and kicks her feet out in front of her. "Wouldn't dream of it!"
"Good." They reach the truck and he releases his grip on her. Lucy slides down his body and turns to back herself against the rear driver side door. Tim brackets her in, hands gripping the roof of the truck. She stares at the muscles that flex along his biceps.
"Lucy."
She hums and focuses her eyes back on his. He dips his head down towards her, a smirk on his mouth.
"What?"
His nose nuzzles hers, and she stretches up on her toes for more. His lips brush hers. Once. Twice. Almost three times. Just enough to tease her before the door handle clicks next to her, and he tugs, sending her stumbling into his chest. "We gotta get the groceries."
Lucy escapes out from under him, and gapes at his back as he begins to pull a cardboard box of food containers from the backseat. "You are mean," she seethes, reaching forward and pinching his ass.
"Enjoy the dishes," he taunts.
"This is not real."
Lucy should have never left him to his own devices. She was gone for five minutes, checking on the sweet potato casserole in the oven, and he had already gotten himself into trouble.
"You are not real, Lucy" he laughs again, holding one of her high school yearbooks close to his chest.
Tim flops back on the twin sized bed in her childhood bedroom, and Lucy glares as he makes himself comfortable.
"Hand over the yearbook, Tim," she demands, thighs digging into the side of the mattress as she holds out her hand. Tim turns away, ignoring her as he digs his nose further in. "This isn't fair. It's an invasion of privacy."
He'd already been through one of the books from her collection, finding her 9th grade photograph, her eyes caked in thick black eyeliner. She looked like a Raccoon.
Tim peeks over his shoulder at her, closing the book part of the way, a finger stuck in between the pages to hold his place. "It is fair. Genny has shown you all of my embarassing photos."
"You were the quarterback of the football team, Tim," Lucy growls, and climbs onto the bed with him, straddling herself over his side. She reaches for the book and he holds it above his head, far enough away from her grasp.
"And you were first chair flute in band, Lucy."
"That is so far from the same thing!"
"Eh."
"You were literally top of the high school food-chain, Tim."
"Geez," he snorts, "we weren't cannibals."
Tim pulls the yearbook back down and continues to flip through until he finds what he's looking for. 11th grade, Lucy Chen, in a vintage band tee, eyeliner just as dark and smudgy, only this time she had downgraded to a terrible set of self-chopped bangs.
"Look at you!"
Tim rolls onto his back. Lucy moves with him. He turns the book where she can see herself, and Lucy hides behind her hands.
"I look terrible!"
"I mean, it was certainly a choice."
Lucy groans and shoves at his shoulder. "The bangs, Tim! The eyeliner!"
Tim laughs and tosses the yearbook to the floor. He pulls her down to him and rolls them back on their sides. Lucy hides her face into his neck.
"Lucy," he coaxes. She hums against him, but still refuses to move. "I had blonde tips. I looked like slim shady for prom." Lucy's shoulders shake with laughter as his fingers slip under the hem of her shirt and trace lines up and down the ridges of her spine.
"It was cute."
Tim brushes a thumb against one of the dimples just beneath the waist line of her jeans and Lucy shivers.
"It was terrible," he confesses, miserably. "Nothing was worse than that."
Lucy presses her smile against his throat. "Tim Shady," she hums. Tim laughs, and hauls himself on top of her, pressing her back into the mattress. He reaches beside them towards her bookshelf, and grabs the stuffed goose tossed in with her books and old trinkets. Her parents had bought it for her on her first birthday, the small dedication card still attached to it's tail feathers.
To our dear Lucy Goosey. Happy 1st birthday!
It was one of the first things Tim found when they stepped inside her room, and he was very proud of himself just like he is now.
"Don't," Lucy warns, shoving a finger into his chest. "Do not say it, Tim. I will never let you call me goose again."
Tim's eyes gleam with a challenge. "We all know you don't mean that."
Lucy glares at him. Tim leans down, just a breath away from her mouth.
"Do not say it," she whispers, "you know I hate it."
"Okay," he promises, then presses his mouth against hers, his tongue brushing her bottom lip. Lucy gives in, opening herself up to him.
What a tease, she tells herself when he goes to nip at her lower lip, his fingers teasing the skin just beneath the hem of her shirt then moving to the waistline of her jeans. She pulls him closer, thinking it's a truce of some kind.
What a fool, she says to herself again as he pulls away and still looks every bit michevious as he goes to reach behind her. He places a kiss in the spot right behind her ear, and then makes a slow, deliberate trip up her jaw. When Lucy's eyelids flutter open, Tim's holding the stuffed goose again and he tosses her a wink.
"Lucy Goosey," he breathes, his smirk pressing against her lips.
Lucy shoves at his shoulders, hoping to send both he and the stuffed goose to the floor.
"Asshole."
Lucy's parents make it home two hours later than planned. Vanessa blames it on anything and anyone but herself as she drops her belongings by the door while Patrick offers up no excuses.
"It was definitley my mom's fault," Lucy mutters to Tim, as she checks on her dumplings in the saucepan on the stove. He laughs, moving a knife through a cucumber for their side salad.
"What's so funny?" Tim jumps at Vanessa's voice. The knife falls out of his hand and to the cutting board with a clatter. Lucy snickers next to him, as Vanessa stands beside Patrick at the bar, both curious and concerned. "Would you like to share?"
Lucy pokes a finger into Tim's side, trying to loosen him up. "It's nothing, Mom. Just an inside joke."
Vanessa eyes them suspiciously. "Uh-huh." She then shrugs her shoulders, letting it go. "Okay, well, we're back, finally!"
"Finally," Lucy responds flatly. Tim turns to stare at her with wide eyes.
She supposes she's feeling brave today, and it immediatley sends Tim into fix it mode.
"It's good to see you both" he supplies awkwardly, "sorry to hear about the traffic."
"Oh," Vanessa waves him off, "it was hardly traffic. Lucy's father just drives slow."
Lucy blinks at her, and gestures a hand towards Patrick. "He's right there mom."
"Yes, I know!"
Patrick rolls his eyes at his wife and walks off to find a football game on TV. The room falls quiet and Vanessa takes that as her invitation to join Lucy by the stove. She grabs a fork and pokes at the dumplings.
"I think those are done, Lucy."
Lucy swats her hand away from the pan. "I got it mom."
"Tim—" Vanessa moves to her next victim--- "did you know that Lucy has been making these dumplings every Thanksgiving since she was a kid?"
The question feels calculated, putting Lucy on edge.
"I did," he answers as he scoops up his perfectly chopped cucumbers and throws them into the salad bowl. His hand reaches for the tomato next. "She made them for me last year. They were wonderful."
Vanessa claps her hands together. "Oh yes, that's right! She spent Thanksgiving with you last year."
"Mom," Lucy warns, sensing some underlying bitterness.
"What," Vanessa asks as she spins away to grab the frozen rolls from the freezer. Lucy feels the cold air bellow out when she openes the door. "There's nothing wrong with that. I simply just forgot."
"Uh-huh." Lucy didn't believe that for a second. Vanessa ignores her, grabbing a baking sheet from the cabinet by the sink as she prattles on.
"So, did you have any Thanksgiving traditions growing up, Tim?"
Jesus.
Lucy goes to pipe in for him, but Tim reaches out a hand to stop her. It's okay, his eyes say. "Are you sure?" She asks out loud.
Vanessa glances at the two of them curiously. "Everything okay? Did I say something wrong?"
"No," Tim rushes to reassure. Yes, Lucy answers in her head.
While the question was innocent in itself, it still hangs heavy between them.
Lucy watches Tim, his hand brushing through his hair. He takes a half-step towards Vanessa, but stumbles over his words. "I mean, yes. Everthing is okay," he laughs nervously. "You didn't say anything wrong."
"Okay."
"It's just complicated."
"I see," her mother nods.
"Mom," Lucy tries again right as Tim opens his mouth to continue. She wants to tell him that he's okay, that he doesn't have to explain anything, but he forges forward.
"Um, my mom painted handmade placemats for us for every Thanksgiving." Tim swallows. "Every year she had us write three things we were grateful for before we could eat, and then we'd go around and share them with one another." Lucy reaches out a comforting hand, curling it around his bicep. Tim's mouth pulls into an upside down U. "We never really appreciated it until she got sick and wasn't able to do much, and then before we knew it she was gone."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Tim."
Tim acknowledges the apology with a nod. Lucy pulls herself closer into his side.
"You know, it hasn't been the same without her, but we'll always have the memories." A small smile ticks up his mouth then and he runs a finger along his bottom lip. Lucy reaches up and presses a kiss against his jaw. "One year," he continues, "my sister Genny was so angry at me, and all three of her answers for what she was thankful for were colorful variations of 'not Tim.' Mom was pissed about some of the language and creative imagery." Tim shakes his head at his sister's antics as if she were in the room. "Genny actually ended up finding all of the papers in a box years after my mom had passed and decided to frame that specific one and put it under the tree for me at Christmas."
Sounds like Genny, Lucy thinks to herself with a laugh, then smiles when she also hears her mother doing the same.
"What was your mom's name?"
"Joy," Tim answers with a smile.
"It was fitting for her," he tells Lucy once, "things at home were never great, but she always tried to keep us smiling or laughing about something. She was strong for us, even when she was at her weakest points."
"Look—" Tim gestures back to the front door on their way to the truck. Lucy has one hand holding his and the other one holding a paper sack of tupperware filled with leftovers. "Things didn't blow up. The house is still in tact. No shrapnel to be found."
She shoves into his shoulder, and admonishes him with a grin. "Shut up."
It was true though. Things had gone really well. She was able to sit at the dinner table across from her parents and feel comfortable knowing that Tim was next to her with a strong hand to hold onto. The food was delicious. Conversation flowed, and her mother had only made a couple of unfiltered remarks while her father contributed his own thoughts here and there. He and Tim even had a conversation about football that kind of made Lucy want to go cross-eyed.
"Are you glad we did this?" He asks once they are settled in their seats. Her parents wave from the doorway and they both wave back. "Any regrets?"
Lucy thinks about it for a moment. The whole Thanksgiving ordeal had been a big back and forth conversation. Her parents had invited them, but Lucy was still unsure how she felt even as they worked to patch things up with them throughout the year. She wasn't sure if she was quite ready to step back through that door, but in the end, well...
"No," she says confidently as he backs out of the driveway. She watches her childhood home get further and further away in the rearview mirror. "No regrets."
"Good," he squeezes her hand, "me neither."
The drive is quiet on the way home. They hit a couple of bouts of holiday traffic—people trying to get back home after long days with their families—and somewhere along the way, Tim flips on the radio, turning it down to a hum.
A few cheerful piano notes filter through the speakers, and Lucy's ears perk up.
"Tim Bradford?"
He shifts in his seat. "Yes?"
"Is this Christmas music?" The corner of his mouth twitches into a grin as Lucy shakes their hands in excitement. "Are you playing Christmas music for me?"
He glances over and fondly rolls his eyes when he sees her beaming at him through the glow of the blue stereo light. "Don't make it a thing."
Lucy giggles and kisses the back of his hand, then reaches across her body to turn the volume up.
Making her happy would always be his thing.
"Three things you're grateful for," she whispers across his pillow, brushing her finger tips along his jaw. Tim shifts and curls a leg around her's while Kojo moves around at their feet, already dreaming about Turkey leftovers and loudly snoring in the process. "Tim," she laughs as he shoots the dog a glare, "focus please."
"He's so loud," he grumbles. "Tell me how we're supposed to sleep."
Lucy rests her forehead against his chest. "You'll eventually tune it out."
"Doubt it." Lucy sighs. Tim blinks down at her in the dim light of his bedside lamp. "What?"
Lucy tilts her head up to look at him, chin pressed against him. "Are you gonna answer my question?" Tim continues to stare at her like he has no idea what she is talking about. "Do you even know what I asked?"
He shakes his head, an apologetic smile on his lips. Lucy tucks herself back into his chest.
"Three things you're grateful for."
Tim grows still beside her while his voice shrinks to a whisper "Lucy," his breath skims the top of her head. "You don't have to do that."
Lucy glances back up again to see him staring down at her, eyes filled with maybe a little sadness but also an overwhelming appreciation for her. She reaches up and kisses him gently.
"We're not sleeping until you tell me," she smiles. He leans down and presses his own grin against her forehead. Lucy pats his chest. "C'mon, clock's ticking."
"Okay, okay, so impatient," he laughs. The noise then slowly tapers off and a divet appears between his brows as he considers the question. Lucy presses her thumb against it. "I am grateful for the ridiculous snoring dog at our feet---" he nudges Kojo with his foot causing the dog to stir again---"the Rams---" Lucy rolls her eyes. Tim pauses for a moment and she feels a hum vibrate through his chest---"And you. Always you."
He says it so casually, as if it wasn't going to affect her in some way. Yet Lucy feels her eyes well up for the second time that day.
"Stop doing that!"
Tim smiles down at her, and thumbs one of the tears off her cheek. "Doing what?"
"You know what!" Lucy lets out a watery laugh, and shoves a hand against his shoulder. "You made me cry again."
Tim grips her waist and pulls her on top of him. "I love you," he breathes, curling a hand at the nape of her neck and coaxing her forward until her lips are on his.
Lucy smiles against his mouth. "I love you too."