“Tommy, take that outside before you break something,” her brother, Carl, called out as Tommy raced through the living room, chasing after his new remote control car. The car narrowly missed theChristmas tree, causing his parents to cringe, before Tommy obeyed his father and took it outside.
Michelle had enjoyed the distraction of Tommy and his car. He was a sweet boy, full of energy that no one in this family seemed to know how to manage. He wasn’t the source of Michelle’s current discomfort. That was caused by the adults in the room. Both her siblings were here with their heteronormative families, sharing life updates that met traditional expectations.
Michelle’s motheroohedandaahedover anniversaries and school performances while giving her pointed looks as if to remind her that she was forty-five, childless, and divorced. Two of those things she was fine with. She couldn’t change her age, and she’d never wanted children. She enjoyed doting on her niece and nephew when she was in town, but that was enough.
As for being divorced, she hadn’t planned on that, but she wasn’t exactly single anymore either. She and Audrey hadn’t discussed it yet, beyond being exclusive with each other, but was Audrey her girlfriend? Michelle’s heart said yes.
“Michelle, Oliver Braithwaite will be joining us for dinner.”
She turned toward her mother. “Oh?”
“Yes, dear.” Elizabeth Thompson regarded her over the rim of her wineglass. “It will help the table look more balanced.”
An even number of men and women at Christmas dinner. Only her mother would care about something so meaningless. Obviously, by this pointed comment, Oliver would be seated next to Michelle for the sake of appearances. She sipped her wine in lieu of a response.
“He’s single,” her mother added, as if Michelle hadn’t caught on to where this was going yet. “He leads the youth group at church. All the women are quite taken with him. A real charmer.”
Michelle’s eye twitched. Her mother was essentially setting her up with a man ... at Christmas dinner. Never mind that she’d known Michelle was a lesbian fordecadesnow.
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Michelle was introduced to Oliver Braithwaite, a slightly stuffy man about five years her senior. He attempted to impress Michelle with his meager knowledge of art, which didn’t seem to extend past a fascination with Matisse and a recent visit to an interactive Van Gogh exhibit.
It was a miserable dinner, followed by more awkward conversation. The rest of the evening promised to be just as unbearable as the family began preparing for church. It had long been a point of contention between Michelle and her family that Kelly wouldn’t attend services at a church that refused to recognize her marriage. Last year, Michelle had attended for the first time in many years in a bid to keep the peace with her parents.
She’d sat there, quietly fuming that everyone in that sanctimonious building seemed to find her more palatable single and miserable than happily married, simply because she’d married a woman. She’d hated every moment.
“Actually, I’m going to stay home tonight,” she told her mother quietly.
“You’re skipping church?” her mother asked unnecessarily, probably hoping that Michelle would acquiesce as she usually did when her mother forced the issue. “But it’s the Christmas service. I’ve told everyone to expect you.”
The room, which had been filled with idle chatter, silenced in an instant.
“Then you can make an excuse for my absence. Tell them I’m feeling poorly.” It wasn’t even a lie. Michelle had gotten her period yesterday, and she was crampy and irritable, not that it would have stopped her from attending church if it were somewhere she’d wanted to be.
Her mother’s lips pursed. “Why must you always be so difficult? The Christmas service is a time to see and be seen. Oliver—”
“Mother,” Michelle interrupted. “Please let it go. I’m not going to change my mind.”
With a huff, her mother sipped from her wine. “Fine, but you’ve disappointed me greatly, Michelle. I want you to know that.”
Michelle flinched, wishing her mother’s words no longer had the power to hurt her. Despite her mother’s homophobia, she would never bring unflattering attention to the family by publicly disowning Michelle. Instead, it was all these little moments, death by a thousand cuts.
The conversation shifted as everyone finished getting ready. The children washed up and changed into their nicest clothes, and most of the adults rushed to have one more drink before they left. Michelle’s father came down from his study, where he’d been drinking whisky since dinner because he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with his wife. They hated each other, and yet their marriage was held up as some sort of pillar of propriety because of their genders.
Usually, Michelle did her best to grin and bear it, but tonight the hypocrisy made her furious. She remembered how Audrey had questioned why she came here at all when her family treated her like this. Perhaps this would be the last year she spent Christmas in a house where she wasn’t truly welcome.
Once they had gone, Michelle poured herself a glass of her father’s best whisky and retreated to her room, where she sent Audrey a quick text.Merry Christmas. Hope you’re enjoying the day with your family.
To her surprise, her phone immediately began to ring.
“Hi,” she answered as her chest filled with a warmth she hadn’t felt since she left Vermont two days ago.
“Merry Christmas,” Audrey said in her ear. “How’s your day been? It’s almost over where you are, isn’t it?”
“Yes. My family just left for church, so I’ve got the house to myself for a few hours.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Audrey asked in a teasing tone. Michelle could hear laughter and conversation in the background, the sounds of a happy holiday.
“Good, at least until they get home. My mother wasn’t pleased that I wouldn’t go with them.”
