The moment Lee left, I bounded up the back staircase and dialed her number. We’d been rehashing everything that had transpired between Lee and me over the last few months, and when my brother showed up for our annual Christmas Eve tradition, I’d completely ignored him.?
“Magnolia! The movie’s starting,” my brother called from the other room.?
“Alright, well, I should get going. Thanks again for dinner. And for listening to my shit,” I added.?
“Anytime. Be careful not to overcook the chicken, that’s my hard work there so don’t mess it up because you, for some reason at almost thirty years old, have no idea how to use an oven, or any other appliance. And just because Lee’s leaving—temporarily, mind you—doesn’t mean everything is changing.”
“Everything’s already changed. It’s going to change even more after I’m Mrs. Wilder.”?
“ThewrongMrs. Wilder, if we’re in the interest of being honest,” she quipped.?
“We’re not in the interest. Merry Christmas, babes. See you tomorrow.”?
I hung up the phone and padded into the living room, carting a plate full of cheese and crackers and a couple of glasses of wine. I handed the plate and a glass off to my brother and sat next to him on the couch.?
Pickle jumped up on the table and helped herself to a piece of cheese, hissing at Charlie as he tried to bat her away. I rolled my eyes and turned the volume up onMeet Me In St. Louis.?
“This really isn’t a Christmas movie,” my brother said, like he did every year.?
“It was Momma’s favorite, though. Judy Garland’s ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’ was her favorite song. Don’t you remember?”?
Charlie shrugged, the least sentimental of the two of us. I wondered briefly what it would be like not to have an emotional connection to every song, tradition, holiday, or person that crossed my path.?
“I can’t stay all night, like I normally would,” Charlie announced when the movie ended and we were two bottles of wine in.
I couldn’t let him know how upset I was, so I just nodded.?“That’s okay, who wants to have a sleepover with their baby sister anyway?”?
“Me. I would. Always,” he chuckled, gulping the rest of his wine. “I have to get up at 5:00 in the morning to drop something off to a client. It’s a huge piece, so there’s nowhere for them to hide it without it being found.”?
“That’s okay. I’m exhausted anyway. I don’t think I could wait up for Santa even if I thought he would really show,” I laughed, stretching out my body as I stood up.
My brother got to his feet, stretching himself. He kissed me on the forehead and wrapped me in a hug. “You never know, Magnolia. If he was going to show up anywhere, it would be here. No one deserves it more.”?
After my brother left, I washed my face and climbed into bed, looking around the room I had lived in since I was a child.?A part of me would miss this place, my home, but the other part of me knew that growing up and moving on meant leaving spaces and places that brought you the most comfort. Skirting almost thirty years old and still sleeping in the same room I had when I was twelve was a little silly and strange.?
But it was my home.?
It was the room my momma had slept in when she was a girl. The room she grew up in, where she dreamed of falling in love and starting a family. The room where her and Eunice, just like Sutton and me, had shared secrets and hopes for the future together. Where, at separate times, the four of us talked about boys, school, outfits.?
It was the same four walls where we cried together, laughed, and fell in love. I looked up at the ceiling, the same ceiling my momma had stared at whenshe was on the verge of making big life leaps. I batted off the tears that started falling down my cheeks.
The last thing I had left of her was this room.?
But it was time for me to let it go.?
***
On Christmas morning, I woke up to the sound of music coming from the bar. I grunted, rolling on top of Pickle who leaped off the bed and hissed at me. I checked my phone, hazily wondering if I missed some impromptu meet up of our friends. But there were no messages.?
I threw on a hoodie and slipped into a pair of slides, making my way down the back stairs.Maybe I’d left the music on before I closed up the bar.
In the dimly lit room, the soft strumming of a guitar and the soulful, familiar voice that I’d know anywhere wrapped around me. I followed the sound, my heart quickening as I reached the stage.?
There, alone under a single spotlight, Lee sat on a stool, plucking out a melody, Santa hat sitting askew on his head. His voice was heavy with raw emotion as he huskily sang “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” eyes locked on mine.?I stood, frozen in place, watching him sing while tears danced down my cheeks.?
After the song ended, Lee put his guitar down and hopped off the stage, making his way toward me. He stopped, jutting his chin out toward the back wall, a nervous shadow passing over his face.?
I turned slowly, and behind me, covering up most of the space between the bar and the office, was a large portrait. I recognized the photo almost immediately as a candid shot Charlie had snapped with his camera while the two of us were having a picnic in Forsyth Park.?
