Unsaid Things and Sunday Roast
The Carter house hasn't changed.Same pale blue siding. Same wind chimes clinking softly on the porch. Same damn welcome mat that says "Wipe Your Paws" even though they haven't had a dog in years.
Josh still standing there, hands jammed in his pockets, lips parted like he might say something. But before he can, the front door flies open.
"Anna?"
Mrs. Carter barrels out in her flour-dusted apron like no time has passed, like I didn't vanish after sleeping with her son and breaking both our hearts.
"God, it is you!" she pulls me into a hug that smells like roasted garlic and cinnamon rolls. "You look grown up. Beautiful but way too skinny. Are you eating?"
I smile stiffly, caught between comfort and guilt. "Trying my best."
Behind her, the house breathes with warmth and memories. The walls are still that honey-colored yellow I helped paint the summer before junior year. There's a family photo in the hallway Josh and Kelvin, arms slung over each other's shoulders, and me standing right beside them, smiling like I didn't have a secret wedged in my chest.
Then I see him. Kelvin doing as if he didn't call me out in the entrance of the house
He's leaning against the kitchen doorway, a glass of something in his hand, looking like every bad decision I never got to make.
His eyes widen just slightly. He doesn't say anything. Doesn't smile.
"Hey," I say, because I don't know what else to say.
He takes a sip. "Didn't expect to see you here."His voice is calm, detached. Not cruel, but not welcoming either.
"I, uh… figured it was time." I try to sound casual, but even I hear the strain.
"Five years," he says simply. "Guess time works different in Boston."
Kelvin shifts beside me, like he wants to say something but won't. I almost wish he would. I almost wish anyone would drag it all out into the open and make the awkwardness easier to bear.
Instead, Mrs. Carter beams, oblivious or choosing to be. You're just in time! I've got a roast in the oven and pumpkin pie cooling. You'll stay for dinner, of course. I want to say no. I want to run.
But then my stomach growls because I haven't eaten since the airport and more than that, something in me wants to sit at this old table again, like maybe I can pretend for a few minutes that I didn't shatter the version of us we all thought would last forever. So I nod
Dinner is a minefield of small talk and tight smiles. Mr. Carter gives me a warm hug and says, "Glad you're back, kid." He doesn't ask why I left. My mom is already in the kitchen helping, chatting like she never cried the day I drove off without telling her why. She doesn't ask anything, but I see the flicker in her eyes when I glance at Kelvin across the table.
Kelvin stays quiet most of dinner. He watches me the way someone watches a house fire from across the street staring, but refusing to get close enough to feel the heat.
And Josh makes jokes like he always did. Plays the part of the easygoing, harmless best friend brother I feel in love with but I now realised I loved Kelvin never loved Josh . But every time our eyes meet, the air thickens.
Finally, Mrs. Carter claps her hands together. "Why don't you kids go out to the fire pit after dessert? Like old times." I hesitate, but everyone's looking at me.
Josh stands first. Come on. I'll bring the drinks.Josh mutters something about needing air and disappears out the back door.
I follow Eli, heart pounding, stomach full of too many things: roast beef, shame, regret, and something else I don't want to name.
As we step out into the chilly November night, I know the past isn't done with me.And I'm not sure I want it to be.