“Yes, Mrs. Levenston,” I said dully.
“Now, I was at Ida’s Christmas party last week. You should have seen the strippers. In my opinion,” she continued, as I ate my weight in deep-fried cheese, “you need to take a few strip teasing classes and show up at Matt’s office and really show him what he’s missing.”
“Sounds like a good way to get arrested.”
She patted my arm. “My cousin’s daughter works in the police station. You can have her call me, and we’ll have something sorted out.”
I grabbed more snacks. Somehow the party was even less full of Christmas cheer than I had originally anticipated. Now instead of giving me a hard time about my Christmas-hating episode, all anyone wanted to talk about was that Matt had broken up with me.
“I was just telling your mother you know you’ve always been a weird girl, just like my granddaughter,” Mrs. Roberts, another elderly woman remarked. “You never had a boyfriend in high school. You read all those books. Your first relationship always goes poorly,” she continued, “and that’s why you need to get those awkward ones out of the way so that when you land the big fish you don’t screw up.”
She sipped her punch. “And let me tell you, dear…losing a handsome billionaire? You really screwed up.”
“Yep,” I said, “thanks for that.”
The vintage record player that had been playing upbeat Christmas music switched to a slow, sad rendition of “Auld Lang Syne.”
Guess we’re starting next year on worse off than this one.
I desperately wished Matt were there. He would probably have something slightly off-color to say about my lack of relationships in high school. He definitely would have liked the pigs in a blanket.
I dumped a handful of pigs in a blanket and an éclair on a plate and took it outside to the back porch. It was freezing outside. Though it had been snowing off and on since Thanksgiving, it was the day before Christmas Eve, and we were officially in winter. Outside on the porch was a large kettle filled with Christmas grog. I poured myself a cupful and nursed it while I looked out over the snowy backyard, the sorrowful saxophone ushering in the most terrible fucking Christmas I had ever had.
Even if Matt were to show up, what would I even say to him?
“Sorry, I’m an idiot. I severely misunderstood what was going on with Hensley, and I probably should have acted like an adult and talked to you about it?”
Mrs. Roberts was right.
I had zero relationship experience. Actually, less than zero because I spent way too much time as a teenager and (cough) college student reading fan fiction and watching teen gossip dramas, which had given me, in hindsight, a deeply unrealistic view of how relationships worked.
But I hadn’t thought it would be a problem with Matt. Being with him had felt so easy.
Probably because you were just mooching off of him and he was too nice to tell you to get a life.
I ate my last pig in a blanket and contemplated whether I wanted to brave the small-town gossip mill and go back inside for more or stay outside and slowly turn into a popsicle.
The screen door creaked open.
“There you are, Jingleball. Everyone’s looking for our guest of honor.”
I sighed. “Right.”
“Cheer up, Jingleball,” my mom said, wrapping an arm around me. “It’s Christmas. It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”
“Maybe it’s the most depressing time of the year.”
My mom squeezed me to her.
“You know Santa’s up there right now,” she said, pointing at the starry night sky. “He’s got a new reindeer on the team, and they’re practicing. See if you can see the sleigh.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mom, I’m too old for that.”
“You can’t be too old to believe in Santa,” she urged. “I think I saw him.”
I sighed and tipped my head back, gazing up at the sky, humoring her.
“Look! There he goes!” she yelled in excitement as a shooting star streaked across the sky. “Make a wish, and Santa will bring it for you on Christmas Eve.”
