Season's Greetings : Christmas Box Set

“I screwed up when you were younger. I was gone a lot, and I didn’t understand what Asperger’s meant. It’s not an excuse. I should’ve done better. I can’t change the past, but I am here now. I support you in whatever choices you make.”

I can’t fully process everything he’s said. This is more than I’ve gotten from him in years.

“You don’t have to say anything back. I just wanted you to know.”

“Okay.”

“I thought maybe we could fly later on today. I’ve got some airtime slotted out and the plane ready to go.”

“We haven’t flown together for a long time.”

“I know. I’d like to change it.” His recent retirement seems to be changing him for the better.

“I don’t have any plans.”

“Good. Should we meet up at three o’clock?” Dad asks.

“That works for me.”

“Go and escape into the clouds like you always do.”

“Kath. Enough.” My father’s voice deepens, and I flinch.

“Is everything okay?”

Dad waves me off. “We’re adjusting to seeing each other daily. Nothing to worry about.”

“He’s right. It’s growing pains all of us aging people go through.” Mom puts on a fake smile. “You know I love you, Sammy. I might come off as overbearing, but I worry about your emotional well-being. You’re my only child.”

“I know, Mom.” I also know I wasn’t what they bargained for and that my diagnosis ended all talk of having another child. I wasn’t a difficult child to raise, in the same sense that I’m not an easy child to parent as an adult. My mother tried her best. Between the lack of information about my condition at the time and her busy schedule, I was raised by a troop of nannies who shuttled me to therapy and doctors. Our bond is tentative, and she tries too hard now to make up for it. Dad was absent, using his job to disappear from anything he found too unpleasant.

This is why the boundaries I have set up between us are so important. I feel my anxiety rising.

“I’m going to head home and recharge before we fly, Dad.”

“You didn’t even finish your food,” Mom says. Her shoulder slumps.

I can read her after all this time. She’s disappointed.

“I’m full. Their portions are big.” Giving her a kiss on the cheek, I make my escape.

They have to work out their issues on their own. It is not my job to act as a buffer. I repeat the words like a mantra as I leave the restaurant. It’s okay to have space and happiness away from them despite conflicting beliefs.

Chapter Five

Delta

I spent more money on this dress than I’ve ever spent on an article of clothing in my life. The V-neck, black-sequined gown shows off a hint of cleavage, tucks in at the waist, and flows to the floor after accentuating my hips. Black stilettos give me a boost in height that brings me to Sam’s shoulders. I had my make-up and hair professionally done in a salon. Soft curls flow around my face and shoulders.

Yet, I still feel inadequate. As if the people inside are going to take one look at me and know my life story. What the hell is a foster kid with a past doing outside of this historic, stone mansion?

“This is where you grew up?” I whisper.

“Yes.”

“Sam. Who are your parents?”

The door opens, and my eyes bulge as the petite Senator Kathleen Thompson-Solaris greets us in an exquisite red dress with black sequin details. She’s the picture of the holidays with her flawless makeup and gray-streaked, dark hair twisted into an elegant topknot.