In a Holidaze

But how did I expect him to react? Did I expect him to laugh it off? To believe me blindly and chalk it up to a giant cosmic mistake? I close my eyes . . . I sort of hoped he would. I wanted Andrew to find it as ridiculous as I do now. At the very least I wanted him to commiserate. At this point I can’t even fathom what led me to hope for that.

Theo didn’t come downstairs until late. I listened as he slipped down the stairs in the dark, shucked off his jeans, and climbed into the top bunk. It took me five minutes to gather up the courage to say his name, but he was already asleep. Or at least he pretended to be. Not that I can say anything, really, considering I slipped into the house myself last night and went straight to bed to avoid having to talk to anyone.

By the time I’ve replayed everything for the hundredth time, my thoughts have reached a fever pitch. I suspect Andrew isn’t faring any better out in the Boathouse.

Nauseated, I throw the covers back, grab my phone, and head upstairs. It’s one thirty in the morning.

The kitchen floor is ice beneath my bare feet. The hallway seems almost sinister in the blackness. I’m drawn by the quiet crackle of the remaining embers in the fireplace in the living room. They struggle to sustain themselves, flickering and glowing beneath a mountain of sooty black wood. I can’t build a fresh fire without risking waking the eternal light sleeper Ricky, and not even a chat with Benny would help me right now. I grab a collection of throw blankets from the couches and chairs and build a makeshift bed in front of the hearth.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and I’ve barely thought about it. Because a few of us spend Christmas morning at church, tomorrow we’ll eat a huge meal and open our gifts, and what is usually my favorite day all year is going to be awkward as hell. Andrew is mad at me. Theo is mad at Andrew and me. No doubt everyone knows about Andrew and me, but it will be immediately apparent that something has gone terribly awry.

Universe, I wonder, how am I any better off than I was the day we drove away from the cabin?

So even though I think scotch tastes like fiery butthole, I pour some into a tumbler and toast it to the dying embers before tilting it to my lips and downing it in one go.

I need sleep, and more than that, I need to escape my own head.

• • •

I’m awake with a sore back and droopy heart just when the sun starts to peek over the lip of the mountain. With a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I shuffle into the kitchen, brew a pot of coffee, and sit and wait for the inevitable: an awkward morning with the father of two people I’ve kissed.

Ricky shuffles in. “Maelyn,” he says quietly. “You and me are two peas in a pod.”

But then he doesn’t finish.

He pours coffee, sits with a groan, and closes his eyes for a few deep breaths. “You okay, hon?”

“Not really.”

He nods, taking a sip. “You and Andrew okay?”

“Not really.”

He nods again, studies the tabletop. “You and Theo okay?” When I don’t respond, he says, “Let me guess. ‘Not really.’”

I lean my head on my folded arms and whimper. “I messed everything up. Today is going to be so weird.”

“You didn’t mess everything up.” He sets his mug down. “And even if you did, you’re in the middle of a group of people who were experts at messing things up long before you came around.”

I look up at him. “What are you talking about? You and Lisa have been together forever. Mom and Dad were married for twenty-four years.”

“Sure, that’s how it looks to you kids.” He catches himself. “Guess you aren’t really kids anymore, are you?”

This makes me laugh, just a little. “No.”

He sniffs, scratching his jaw. “Well, the good has stretched out a long way past the bad, but everyone makes mistakes in their twenties. Hell, even in their thirties.” He pauses and meets my eyes across the table. “And maybe their forties and fifties, too.”

“I’ll be honest, the idea of you ever being emotionally messy is . . . like, it does not compute.”

Ricky laughs at this. “You know your mom and Lisa were roommates. Your dad, Benny, Aaron, and I all lived on the same floor our freshman year, in the dorm. We were immediately close, spent all our free time together,” he says, and I knew that part already, but what he says next blows my mind: “Lisa and Benny were an item for a few weeks before she and I started dating. If I remember right, I think she and I started up before they really ended things.”