Page 1 of The Stuffing Situation

1

The Lie That Launched a Glitch

Maya didn’t mean to lie.

Well, okay, she meant to lie. She didn’t mean to lie that extravagantly.

It all kicked off during what should’ve been a three-point turn, but turned into almost nine, right in front of Trader Joe’s. The steering wheel squeaked in her sweaty hands, every awkward twist a standoff between too much caffeine and not enough will to exist the week before a holiday. The tires clipped the curb.

Her mom’s voice blared from the speaker, ricocheting off every cramped surface in the car.

“So you’re still single?”

“I’mdriving, Mom,” Maya muttered, eyeing a pedestrian wrapped in canvas bags and a parking attendant who looked one cone short of quitting.

Please not now, not like this.

“That’s not a no.”

Maya exhaled, a frizz of hair sticking stubbornly to her lip gloss. “I’m talking to someone.”

Which was technically true. Shehadspoken to the Starbucks barista that morning. He’d asked how her day was going. He was very flirty, extremely latte. Name a worse time to crave male validation. But for Maya, it had been a while since she had any male attention at all; she was starting to get desperate and felt as if she might accept anything at this point.

“Oh, honey! That’s wonderful!” her mom squealed. “You have to bring him to Thanksgiving!”

Crap.

“I can’t, Mom, he’s working,” Maya said, checking her mirror and narrowly avoiding a Subaru. “He’s a nurse, on call, can’t come home.”

Right on cue, the radio, a petty little machine with the soul of a snitch, blared a Hallmark Channel promo with the same premise. She jabbed it off, the plastic buttons digging into her palm.

She tapped her forehead again, “Maybe I’ll go home for the holidays and fall in love with my high school rival,” because Blair wouldn’t set her up with her own personal sex demon, which, yes, was apparently a real thing now, and honestly? Rude.

Her mom gasped. “Do you have one of those?”

“No, Mom. It was a joke.”

“You still planning on staying here tonight? Your room is already ready for you.” She made it sound as though it were a question, but we both knew better.

Maya finally found a spot, slammed the car into park, and dropped her head to the wheel with a soft, pathetic thud. The leather was sun-warmed and slightly sticky, as if stress and SPF had melted into it.

Why didn’t I try to get out of coming this year? Say I was studying to be a sommelier? Or prepping for an amateur hot dog-eating contest? Literallyanyother lie.

* * *

That night, Maya wore the weekend’s defeat already plainly, sat nursing a spiked cider at Murphy’s, the bar that time forgot and Spotify would never bother to find. The music was a half-hearted loop of ‘90s soft rock and static. The vinyl seats clung to the back of her thighs, making her question why she had worn a skirt to the bar in the first place.

The bartender was Rae, the kind of woman who looked ready to shiv you for breathing wrong, and somehow, she still kept the night’s drink orders flowing as if it was nothing.

Across from her, Josie, her best friend from childhood, slumped into a coat that seemed to have swallowed her whole. They hadn’t caught up much since Josie became a single mom, but she was one of those friends you just snap back into sync with, no matter how long it’s been.

“You told your mom you had a boyfriend?” Josie asked.

“I panicked,” Maya groaned. “The words just fell out of my face.”

“Let me guess. He’s tall, rugged, and emotionally available.” Josie said accusingly.

“Tragically, yes.”