LINDSAY
I’m sitting at Isla’s dining room table on Christmas Eve, eating roasted beef tenderloin and staring mindlessly out the window behind Dad’s head. It won’t be a white Christmas this year, as no snow is coming. Rain will take its place, but not until late tomorrow night. There’s a steady hum of chatter around me, but I’m not taking part, because I’m not even really here.
Under normal circumstances, I’d be thoroughly enjoying this meal. The tenderloin is delicious and practically melts in my mouth, but no matter how hard I try to focus on the food and people in front of me, my mind wanders to Nic. That’s where I’d like to be.
It’s not because he’s been spending time with Gemma, which he has. That’s not it at all. I mean, it’s notnotit, but it’s not the primary reason I wish I were in Mapletown. They’re friends, and she keeps hanging out at the bar when he’s working. It’s not like he can refuse to serve her. Well, I guess he could, but unless she does something truly egregious, I know he won’t.
The reason I’m spacing out is that not spending the holidays with the person you have the most fun with just feels wrong. Like there’s a black hole at the table, and no one can see it but me.
Even Jules looks a bit bored as she helps clear the table once we’re done eating and sits down with her dessert. She’s been talking to Rocío more and more, and begging to go back up there. I love that she’s made a new friend, but it’s making me wonder if Boston is the right place for us long-term.
That’s not the only thing making me reevaluate my life choices. We signed a big client at work, a local restaurant chain with six locations across eastern Massachusetts, and my boss has been pushing me to get the marketing deck completed by the first of the year. We’re expected to unveil a six-month marketing strategy to rebrand the chain and launch several new marketing initiatives.
This project, along with the dozen other year-end reports I’m supposed to submit, has been the bane of my existence since Jules got suspended. I was hoping I’d get to take a day or two off to bring her Christmas shopping, watch movies together, make homemade gingerbread cookies––her favorite Christmas traditions, but I’ve been too busy working.
When I’m not working, I’m dazed and cranky with anyone who dares to approach, and that’s mostly Jules. When she got suspended, I took it as a sign to look inward and determine what changes need to be made in the way I parent. What I figured out is that the most important change I need to make is to be more present for her. I vowed to put my phone and laptop away from six p.m. until she goes to bed every night. After that, I can work if needed or talk to Nic. But during that post-work/school period, she gets one hundred percent of my attention.
It didn’t seem like an unreasonable plan. It wouldn’t require me to dip out of work early, and it wouldn’t feel like I was pushing Nic away either. If she needed to do homework after dinner, I could practice witchcraft or catch up on emails. Everyone wins.
This has not been the case at all. Witchcraft has been shoved to the back burner, my calls with Nic are short and are mostly me yawning and trying to convince him I’m not tired, and work has been piling up. What’s worse is that Jules’s schoolwork has been winding down for the holiday break. She has another entire week off before her suspension resumes, and I have no idea how I’m going to balance that.
This is the part of my stress spirals where I wish the Lilith Fair would return. What I wouldn’t give for the promise of a modern Lilith Fair 2.0 on my horizon. I was too young to go to the first one, and not getting to see Sarah McLachlan, Fiona Apple, Lauryn Hill, and Missy Elliot will haunt me forever.
Jules is going to be home with me, bored off her ass, and I’m going to be working twelve-hour days to get this deck finished.
And for what, really?
I make decent money, but my job doesn’t come with high stakes. It’s not like I’m saving lives. So why am I being pushed so hard? More importantly, why am I allowing myself to be pushed?
My boss refused to approve an assistant position to help lighten my load, and I know my counterpart, who manages marketing for restaurants on the western half of the state––one of the Jakes who loves to interrupt me in meetings––not only has an assistant of his own, but he took his family to Aruba for the holidays. Why in the festive fuck is he sitting on a beach sipping Mai-Tai’s while I’m over here considering racing home on Christmas Eve to work on a presentation?
I shoot up from my chair, as caught off guard by the action as everyone else at the table, and say, “I’m sorry, but Jules and I will be leaving early.”
My daughter looks up at me with a confused pout. “How come?”
“We’re heading up to Mapletown for a few days.”
Jules throws up her hands, victorious, and takes one last bite of her cheesecake before we give hugs and wish everyone a Merry Christmas.
Quinn is thrilled to see us again when we check into the B&B, and gives us the same room as last time. She offers us hot chocolate and frosted cookies shaped like Christmas trees. We drop our bags in the room and take our treats to go before driving to Fast Glass. The parking lot is way more packed than I was expecting, but Dominic did tell me that his neutral, anti-Christmas tradition is quite popular among the locals.
I was skeptical at first, assuming more people would be annoyed by the lack of holiday spirit, but as Jules and I enter the bar, it’s clear I was sorely mistaken. People are laughing, playing board games, and enjoying the bar’s new food offerings without a strand of tinsel in sight.
“Hi, guys,” I say as we grab two seats at the bar.
We’re immediately surrounded by the staff, who shower us with hugs and cheers for our surprise pop in.
Nic spins Jules around, her feet flying in a wide circle as her delighted giggle fills the room. I’m rewarded with a kiss on my cheek, my neck, and just below my ear as he whispers, “Best Not Christmas ever.”
Camilla stops by with Rocío after a busy day of Christmas shopping, and the girls jump around in a circle at the sight of each other. They grab an available two-top next to the bar, and Vyla brings them tall glasses of cranberry juice.
I end up in a conversation with Natalie, Camilla, and Mayor Crane about my current work woes and Jules’s suspension, and the mayor knocks me off my ass with two questions.
“Have you considered moving here? I know the schools don’t normally accept transfers this late in the quarter, but I can speak to the school board if you’re interested. Do you think Jules would be happier in Mapletown?”
My mouth hangs open as my mind races. Should I move here? I know that I’d be allowed to buy a place and settle here due to my ancestral witch blood. ButshouldI? I can’t deny that my trips to Mapletown have been the best part of my year. When I haven’t had an upcoming trip on the calendar, the days have seemed endless, and I’ve wondered how I’ll get through another in this bitter, dark time of year.
Then there’s the whole job thing. They’d likely let me work remotely if I requested it, but since I make so many site visits to our clients’ locations, there’d be a lot more driving, and not around here.
