“Heaven, this isn’t all my fault. I love?—”
“No, you don’t,” I cut her off without turning around. “If you did, we wouldn’t be here.”
I twist the knob and walk out before I change my mind.
Outside, the cold hits me like the truth. I’m done.
I have no interest in celebrating Christmas this year. Nothing and no one is changing that.
I’ve been drivingfor what feels like an hour. When I finally pull into the nearest gas station, I park and just sit. The tears come before I can stop them.
I’m so tired. I really thought I’d found the one, someone to spend my life with. Lakelyn and I had been joined at the hip since college. We were suitemates, then best friends. When I dropped out sophomore year to help my brother with his real estate business, she never lost touch. Somewhere along the way, friendship turned into love.
At least, I thought it did.
People who cheat should automatically go straight to hell.
I climb out of the car and head inside, deciding to grab a few snacks before the long drive home. The bell above the gas station door jingles as I step in. I head straight for the back aisle, my comfort snacks calling my name.
Pickles. Hot Cheetos. Mango-flavored Arizona tea.
By the time I get to the counter, an older man with a snowflake-patterned eye patch greets me.
“Alright, your total is nine fifty-seven. Want to round up for Santa’s elves? Help a kid in need,” he says, tapping a snow globe with a faded sign.
“Sure, man.” I hand him a ten.
“Not too cheerful tonight, I see,” he teases, sliding me my change. “You have yourself a merry Christmas, now.”
I don’t respond. I just grab my bag and head back to the car. The faster I get home, the faster I can pretend this day never happened.
Back on the interstate, I press the phone button on my steering wheel. “Call brother.”
“Calling your brother’s cell,” Siri chirps.
I lean back in my seat, waiting. After a few rings, it goes to voicemail.
“You’ve reached Ezra Oakley. I’m on vacation with my beautiful wife—” I hear my sister-in-law, Iris, giggle in the background. “I’m not sorry I missed your call, but leave a message. I’ll call you next year. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!”
Typical Ezra. He updates his voicemail like it’s a social media post.
I hang up, shaking my head. Then it hits me, it’s their anniversary. Christmas Day. Great. The last thing I need right now is to hear about their love fest.
It’s been hell living with them these past two months while my house gets fixed after the flood. I could’ve found a hotel or apartment, but Ezra insisted on sibling bonding. I blame our childhood trauma for his overbearing tendencies.
At a stop sign, I grab my phone and text him:
Change of plans. Staying home for the holidays.
Enjoy your vacation, bro.
Turning down our street, I spot a Honda Civic getting towed, its front bumper crumpled. And that’s when I notice him.
A man standing at the top of my brother’s driveway, holding three grocery bags. He doesn’t look lost at all, in fact, he’s smiling like he owns the place.
What the hell? Maybe he’s at the wrong house.
No way Ezra could’ve ordered anything that fast unless he’s stalking my location again.
