The twins love their headphones, and June enjoys the gift card I got her to her favorite make-up store. My own haul is good. I get some expensive tea that smells delicious, and a DVD of an obscure TV show I liked when I was younger, along with some clothes and a few gift cards. All in all, everyone seems to be very pleased by the gifts.
Even Trevor received gifts in the form of gift cards to use at coffee shops around BU. I liked watching him be surprised—I knew he thought he wasn’t getting anything at all. He’ll have a gift from me on the real Christmas day, but he doesn’t know that either.
When all the gifts are open, it’s early afternoon and we’re all starving. The house is beginning to smell like turkey. We attack the kitchen to prepare for the rest of the food, and we all fall into our familiar roles of what to do and where to be. Luckily, Richard doesn’t have to run to the store for anything. In the middle of everyone getting ready, I manage to pull Trevor aside.
“No under the table things this time.”
He just grins.
“Trevor, please. I’m serious.”
He leans down and gives me a quick kiss on the mouth. “All right. I’ll behave. I don’t want to go back to sleeping on the couch.”
I punch him lightly in the arm, and he catches me to press another kiss against my lips. “You’ll get my present on Christmas.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I whisper.
“But I did. So there’s nothing you can do about it,” he says, grinning and pushing me back into the kitchen before anyone even realizes that I’m gone. Sure enough, when we gather around the table, Trevor has claimed the seat next to mine again. Although this time I’m not anxious. I enjoy the feeling of our legs pressed together, the secret contact grounding me.
The food is good. The best sign of a good meal is silence, and we’re preoccupied with eating for a long time before anyone speaks. And when we finally do, it’s a slow start to the conversation. It’s only when our bellies are stuffed full of turkey, trying to debate how long we need to wait for dessert, that we really start the talking.
“So,” Anna asks Bradley. “When are you guys leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning,” he says. “We’re going to spend some time with June’s grandparents. They live down near us and are still kicking.”
June laughs. “They’re going to outlive everyone.”
“Maria,” I say, “what are your plans for Christmas?”
She shrugs. “I don’t have any solid plans. I figured I’d just drift.”
“You want to come over for dinner? It’ll be just me and these two.” I nod towards Brad and Trevor.
“Sure,” she says, and I think I hear a bit of relief in her voice. “That sounds like fun.”
“I just want to say—in case I forget because of pregnancy brain—thank you everyone for the gifts.”
“Yes,” I say, “thank you.”
There are murmurs of additional thank-yous around the table, and Bradley laughs. “You got almost everything you needed, Stella.”
“Almost?”
“Well, you got everything you asked for except a man.”
My stomach drops, and I feel Trevor go stiff beside me as people laugh. “Ha-ha. Very funny,” I say, trying to brush it off.
“But maybe he’s just not here yet,” Anna chimes in. “Who knows, maybe Santa will drop him down the chimney on Christmas day.”
“Can we not do this today?” I ask.
Bradley doesn’t listen, his words overlapping on top of mine. “You might like that. Right, Stella? Someone dressed in nothing but a Christmas stocking?”
“Seriously?” I say. It’s loud, and everyone falls silent. I don’t care, they deserve it, and I deserve to be loud. “I’ve asked you to stop. It’s our family Christmas, can’t you give it a rest? Even just for today?”
I grab my plate and take it to the kitchen. I resist the urge to throw it in the sink. Instead, I just stand there. I wonder if I should leave, take a walk, and cool my head. It might be less awkward than the deathly silence that I hear behind me. I hear the screech of a chair being pushed back, but I don’t look to see who it is, who they silently elected to come talk to me.
The doorbell rings, and I jump. I make a mental calculation, just to satisfy myself that everyone is here. They are. So who could that be? I’m closest to the door anyway. When I pull it open, I find the last person I was expecting standing on my front steps—it’s Brad’s ex, Leigh.
11
I’ve only met Leigh one time, on a short visit to the campus when they were together. I disliked her then and I dislike her even more now that she’s managed to trample all over Brad’s heart. I look at her. She’s gotten more blonde and more tan, embodying the look of a college party girl. “Hi!” she says cheerily. “I’m looking for Brad. Is he here?”
I hesitate. I don’t know if Brad wants to talk to her. I don’t know if I should say that he’s stepped out.
She seems to sense that hesitation. “I’m his girlfriend,” she adds, with an annoyed smile.
I straighten up. “No, you’re his ex-girlfriend,” I say, “and I’m not sure if Brad wants to see you.”
Her mouth drops open. Drops all the way open in shock, and she looks me up and down as if I’m the most offensive person on the planet. “I’m sorry, who are you?” she says.
I give her a flat smile. “I’m Brad’s mother. We’ve met before, Leigh.”
“You can’t be his mother,” she says. “I remember meeting her, and she wasn’t a bitch.”
A deadly calm comes over me, and I’ve had enough. Enough of everything that’s happened today with my family. This is not happening. “Well, that was before you spent months lying to my son and treating his heart like a chew toy. We’re in the middle of a family dinner, and you need to leave.”
“I’m not leaving until I talk to Brad.” She steps closer.
“He’s not available. I’ll tell him to call you when he gets back to school.”
She scoffs. “Last time I checked, your son was an adult. He can make his own decisions. I know he’ll want to talk to me.”
“Oh,” I say. “So he’s my son now? Good to know. Goodbye, Leigh.”
I start to shut the door and Leigh jams her foot in the space, shoving the door back and forcing it open. I have to step back or get shoved backwards. She steps inside, grinning and shedding her coat onto the floor.
“You need to leave my house,” I say, trying to maintain a calm I don’t remotely feel.
“Oh, fuck off. Don’t you have some prune juice to finish drinking through a straw or something? BRAD!” Her voice, already loud, echoes through the house.
I swear I’m about to hit her when Brad comes into the living room. He looks between her and me and I know that he heard what she said to me. He looks me up and down, making sure I’m all right. “It’s okay, Mom.” He looks at Leigh. “I’ll talk to you, and then you’re leaving.”
“You suddenly a momma’s boy?” Leigh asks. “Been listening to her, letting her trick you into thinking I’m some sort of bitch?”
“I’ll give you guys some privacy,” I mutter, heading to the kitchen.
I hear Brad speak behind me, voice dark. “I’m letting you stay for a few minutes because it seems better than calling the police. But if you ever speak to or about my mother that way again, I will throw you out and I will never speak to you again.”