“Nothing,” I said, eyeing my father who was tinkering with a train piece from the set that toured the bottom floor of the house every Christmas.
My mother eyed me as I avoided answering her. “Fine, I’ll assume Rhys has plans tonight. Come hang your ornament and stay out of your father’s bourbon,” she scolded.
“Here, here,” my father replied, looking up at me through his glasses as he inspected his project closely.
Hmph, men and their toys.
“Fine, no booze, no boys. Let’s party,” I said dryly as my mother whisked me away to the tree. The house, as usual, looked incredible. My mother had always made it so during the holidays. But this year, I wanted no part of it.
“You want to tell me what stick has crawled up your butt? You usually love Christmas,” she said, handing me my ornament. I stuck it on the nearest branch, my mother immediately catching it as it popped off.
“Whoops,” I said under her heavy eye, hurt in her stare as she re-hung it carefully.
“What happened, damn it?” she asked in a harsh whisper, her hand on her hip.
“I happened, Mom. I happened.”
He happened.
She happened.
They happened.
I felt sick. Collapsing on the couch, I threw a pillow on my head to cover my face, feeling the burn move through me from the bourbon. I hiccupped as she pulled the pillow away.
“This is not how you act on a holiday, madam,” she scorned, pushing me so I was forced to sit up then plopped down next to me.
“Mom, I’m thirty-three. I should have my own family now, not be bothering you two on Christmas Eve.”
“That’s the dumbest damn thing I have ever heard in my life,” she huffed. “Even if you had a family of your own they would all be here. I’d make sure of it.”
“Fine. True. Whatever. I sure hope I’m enough,” I said, throwing my own personal pity party. I knew for a fact my mother wouldn’t put up with it for long. So much so, that when her back was turned, I carried my bourb-nog up to my parent’s guestroom—my old bedroom—and drank it until I felt comfortably numb. I stared at my phone, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t call Rhys when he was probably surrounded by family. What would I even say? What else was there to say? Tears fell heavy as I tossed and turned, thinking of how it had all played out.
At midnight, I sent him a text then passed out during my second viewing of A Christmas Story.
I sat on the couch at my parents’ house on Christmas morning as my son screamed “Vi tet, Da DAAA! Vi tet!” in delight at the TV. My sister Heidi heard him and came rushing in to see him wiggling back and forth as he watched the Christmas parade. The host did look a little similar to Violet, with long blonde hair and green eyes. My heart became heavier as his excitement grew with the thought it was her on screen hosting. She had invaded my every thought since the day I met her, and now she had my son’s attention.
“Vi TETTT!” He shook animatedly to the music as the dancers surrounding the Snoopy float dazzled the spectators.
“Vi tett...Violet.” Heidi smiled as she caught on, averting her gaze from Bryce to me with a smug smile. “I knew it, brother. You are a true ass for keeping this from me, you know that?”
“Shut it, little H. I mean it,” I said sternly. She waddled over to me, her belly completely full and near bursting and took a seat on the footrest in front of me, forcing my attention to her.
“Is this the one that will finally tame you, dear brother?” she asked, all smiles as she giggled at Bryce who was dancing his tail off, imitating the dancers as best as he could.
“Heidi, drop it,” I snapped, unable to hide the grit in my voice.
“Not this time. As a matter of fact, I’ll bring it to the table if you don’t spill it.” She nodded toward the kitchen where the rest of the family was gathered, prepping the day’s feast.
“Okay, dear brother, so you introduced a woman to your son? Come on, Rhys, she must be important to you. I remember her from the restaurant. She was beautiful and seemed really nice.” My sister refused to move from her spot, her expectation clear as she watched me.
I gripped the edge of the couch as I gave in. “She is important,” was all I could manage.
“And Bryce, he seems to like her,” she added, watching me carefully.
“He loves her,” I said quietly.
“You love her,” Heidi said, reading my expression.