'Tis The Season

“Jamison, wait for Charlotte,” Angelina fusses in the background. I hear my father’s robust laughter and shake my head.

“Merry Christmas, mate,” Thomas says.

“Merry Christmas. Is the gang all there?”

Thomas’ smile wavers slightly. “Except you.”

“Next year.”

“You said that the year before.”

“Ahh, but this time I mean it. I’ve got the practice settled enough to leave during the holidays without fearing it’ll all come crashing down around my head.”

Thomas chuckles. “I’m going to hold you to that. Wait.” He frowns. “Are you still at the office?”

“I’m actually closed for the day. We got a delayed shipment of supplies in, so I stayed to store them.”

“You work too much, James.” His voice is soft and kind, and I hate it.

“Is that my boy on the line?” my mother asks, saving me from ruining Christmas by spewing the vitriol gathered on my tongue. Seeing the brother who never had an interest in domestication live the life I’ve always dreamt of can be soul-sucking. I swallow down the bitterness and smile as my mother’s face enters the screen.

“Mum.”

“There’s my boy. Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Mum.” I see the additional lines around her smile and curse time for moving so fast. When I was younger, my parents seemed eternal. Now I see them aging with every year.

“Can you hear the hubbub these three little monsters are causing?”

“And you love every moment of it, don’t you, Nan?”

She laughs. “I do. It’s like seeing you and your brother again. But that little Charlotte is something.”

“Charlotte’s the oldest. She has to keep Jamison and Graham in line.” I sink into the chair behind my desk in my office and click on my green banker’s lamp.

“Indeed.” My father’s face appears on the screen.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hello, son. How’s life across the pond treating you?”

“Good. I was just about to leave to start my holiday.”

“That’s good. I worry about you and all those hours you put in.”

“It takes a lot to get a practice up and running. Now I can ease off a bit.”

He nods. “I understand the ins and outs of the business. But I want you to know that time can’t be regained. Make sure you’re living life outside of work, yeah?”

“I know, Dad.”

“Good. Now how are you spending the holidays?”

“Doing a lot of nothing. Catching up on the tele, visiting friends. That sort of thing.”

“Any dates?” Mom calls.

I roll my eyes. “No.”