Me: Okay, so I am. Smart ass.
Drew: You love my ass, I catch you staring on the track.
Me: Right. Thanks for today. Victoria had a ball.
Drew: I’m glad. She’s beautiful. You both are in that picture. Maybe I can meet up with you when I get there. I leave in the morning.
Me: Maybe. I’d like that. Let me get back to my cupcakes.
Drew: Ooh, does that mean something else? What’s on your cupcakes, baby?
Me: You have a long drive tomorrow. Get some sleep.
Drew: Fine. You’re no fun. I miss you.
Me: Goodnight, Drew.
Drew: Say you miss me.
Me: You miss me.
Drew: Now who’s a smart ass?
Me: My ass is great.
Drew: Sure is. Goodnight, Gorgeous.
I threw the phone across the table, my cheeks sore from smiling. When it buzzed again, I was about to call him and yell when the air stilled in my lungs.
Denise: Merry almost Christmas, sis.
I missed my sister, but I couldn’t bring myself to text her back. She was only a kid, and it was wrong to make her suffer for my mother’s actions, but I was too terrified to reach back out to her. The fear and guilt mingled in my system and turned my stomach.
It was a holiday full of surprises. Some I welcomed, some I was warming up to, and some that threatened to pull me into a past I couldn’t handle.
Sara
BY THE TIMEthe sun rose on Christmas Eve, I was already awake for two hours. Baking was done, lasagna was finished and ready for the oven, French Toast Casserole prepped and ready for tomorrow morning. The kitchen was the only place I ever found peace, but my turbulent mind wouldn’t give me any.
My parents and I never got along, even before I became pregnant with Victoria. My father worked long hours and couldn’t be bothered with any of us, and my mother took her frustrations out on me. Nothing was good enough; my grades, my hair, my choice of school—nothing. I was happy to live in a dirt-cheap studio apartment and dine on Ramen noodles every night when I first started culinary school. Still, I came back once in a while, mainly for my sister. And, as pathetic as it was, even though my parents starved me for love my entire life, I still craved it. I’d think, maybe they’ll see my grades and be proud or maybe be impressed with all I was learning—learning on my own dime, too, thank you very much. It was never any use. I’d leave their house close to tears but would will them back in my eyes. I would never let them make me cry.
When I had my own daughter, I vowed she’d only get the best from me. My best for the first eight years of her life was less than stellar, but I gave her all I had and always thought of her first. I praised everything she did and told her I loved her multiple times per day. As someone in her thirties and all kinds of fucked up from being denied something so simple from my family, I made sure that even though my daughter had to go without on many things, she never had to question whether or not she was loved.
Denise ran through my mind a lot. I pictured what she looked like now, if she still had that crazy, curly hair that she could never tame. When I told my family I was pregnant, they threw me out and told me I was never welcome back or allowed to speak to my sister. She was too young to have a cell phone to text, and I knew better than to try to call the house. She was about twenty now—an adult. Maybe that’s why she was reaching out? I shrugged to myself as I made a pot of coffee.
The buzz of my phone across the counter snatched me from my tortured musings.
“I could be sleeping,” I snapped as I leaned against the sink, smiling despite myself.
“But I knew you wouldn’t be. Talk to me. It’s been a long and lonely drive.” Drew’s voice made me almost forget. Having him close by soothed me even if I wouldn’t admit it out loud.
“I know, I made the same drive a couple of days ago. Is your dad there already?”
“I doubt it,” he snickered. “It’s always a crap shoot if he’ll show up at all. I have other family that I want to see. Either way, it’ll be worth it.”
“You never talk about him much. That’s probably because my issues monopolize all our conversations.”
“That’s not true. There’s not much to say, Sara. My dad never grew up. I spent a lot of time as a kid disappointed over some broken promise he’d made. As I got older, the disappointment became resentment which graduated to indifference. The end. See? Short story.”
