“We Thought Family Would At Least Offer a Decent Spread. They Even Hid the Pie We Brought in the Fridge”

Michael and Eva had always enjoyed the quaint, if somewhat predictable, visits to Michael’s relatives in the neighboring town of Brooksville. This time, they were particularly excited as they had not seen them since the pandemic began. They called a week in advance to make sure it was a good time for a visit. Over the phone, Michael’s aunt Penelope sounded thrilled and insisted they come over for lunch the following Saturday.

The morning of the visit, Eva baked her famous apple pie—a recipe she had perfected over years of trial and error. It was always a hit at gatherings, and she was sure Michael’s family would appreciate it. They packed the pie carefully in the car and set off with high spirits.

Upon arrival, they were greeted warmly by Penelope and her husband, Gerald. Hugs were exchanged, and there was a brief catch-up on the front porch before they were ushered inside. The house smelled faintly of cleaning products, a stark contrast to the rich, welcoming aromas of home-cooked meals they were used to on previous visits.

As they settled into the living room, Eva offered to bring in the pie, to which Penelope quickly responded, “Oh, let’s just put it in the fridge for now. We can have it later.” Eva was slightly taken aback by the lack of enthusiasm but complied, thinking perhaps they had prepared a big meal and wanted to save the pie for dessert.

However, as lunchtime approached, it became apparent that no such meal had been prepared. Instead, Penelope brought out a tray of store-bought sandwiches and a bowl of mixed chips. The sandwiches were a far cry from the homemade meals they were accustomed to during previous visits. Michael and Eva exchanged puzzled glances but chose to remain polite and grateful for the hospitality, however minimal it seemed.

Conversation around the table was strained. Michael tried to steer the discussion towards family memories and shared experiences, but responses from Gerald and Penelope were curt and lacked the warmth they usually shared. The atmosphere grew increasingly uncomfortable.

After an awkward hour of small talk, Eva, hoping to lighten the mood, suggested it might be a good time for some pie. Penelope hesitated, then said, “Actually, let’s save it for another time. We’re all pretty full, aren’t we?” The dismissal of her pie, which sat untouched in the fridge, stung Eva more than she expected.

The visit ended shortly after. On the drive home, Michael and Eva discussed the day’s events, trying to make sense of the cold reception. “Maybe they were just having an off day?” Michael suggested, though more to comfort himself than out of conviction.

Eva nodded, feeling the sting of rejection, “Maybe. But it felt like they didn’t even want us there, Michael. And hiding away the pie I brought—it just felt so dismissive.”

They returned home with the uneaten pie and a growing sense of unease about where they stood with Michael’s family. The day had not only lacked the warmth and connection they had hoped for but had also opened up a slew of questions about family ties and the authenticity of past affections.

As they unpacked the car, Eva placed the pie on the kitchen counter, its presence a bittersweet reminder of a day that had promised much but delivered little. The pie would eventually be eaten, but the aftertaste of the day’s rejection would linger far longer.