“I don’t know if you celebrate the holidays, Mr. Matthews, but I do,” Professor Johns starts. “With my family. So, as much as I appreciate the time you’re taking to work on your project, this isn't something I’ll work on today. Three texts in two hours tells me you might need to take a break as well.”
“I’d rather not.” I shouldn’t be curt with him when he has every right to call me out.
He sighs. “Seems you’re not going to give up, so would you like to join my family for dinner? It’s not elaborate, but we have plenty to set another plate, and we can discuss your paper afterward.”
I realize what I’ve just done. Dragging this man away from his family to deal with my incessant questions makes me a real asshole. “No, I can’t, but I appreciate it.”
There’s a pause, and then he asks, “Do you have family to spend the holiday with, Keats?”
Now I’m the one hesitating. Not wanting to make a big deal out of it, I reply, “Yeah, I’m supposed to see my mom tonight.”
“Good. I need to get back, but cite your studies, and as long as the information is supported in the attached papers, you’re good. Enjoy your holiday, Mr. Matthews.”
“Thanks. You, too.” I’m not sure whether I was lying or being honest about spending time with my family, but I can turn that lie into the truth by deciding to visit my mom. With other issues more pressing, I glance at Sosie’s phone on the bookcase, then at the tree she decorated with a part of herself. This is stupid. She’s a girl. Why the fuck am I pining like I fell in love? This paper matters more than a good time that obviously won’t turn into anything more. My full attention should be on my capstone project. I’m just surprised I allowed my brain to detour so badly. Last night was fun, great even, but why am I risking my goals on a one-night stand?
I haven’t eaten more than a few cheese cubes and some salami from the board she left behind, which means I’m not thinking clearly. Since my assumption of waiting until her return for us to eat together was way off base, I need to get food in my stomach and Sosie off my mind, or I’ll never get this section of the paper done as I planned today.
Grabbing my winter boots from the closet, I stick my feet in and wrap up for trekking outside.
I tuck my phone in one pocket. Sosie probably needs her phone like I need mine. I’m not convinced that she would leave it on purpose, especially since she texted me. I should return it, even if she intends to come over later.Wishful thinking again . . .
Crossing the room to retrieve her phone, I swipe it up, noticing the empty space under the tree where presents should be. I should have bought my own damn self a present. But bills are more important than unwrapping something I’d be buying to convince myself that someone cared.
When there’s no one left, it falls on my shoulders like it always has. I can be bitter about life or accept that this is how it is. No matter what happened in my childhood, I’m only who I am because of the life I’ve lived. So, be better than what’s expected. Focus on the person I want to be. That’s why I’m doing this—the jobs, the school, the life I’m struggling through. The outcome will outweigh the pain along the way.
And yeah, I need to see my mom. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Pop by to say hi and do a quick check-in. It will mean a lot to her, but it seems my soul is empty and needs filling. Maybe she can help with that.
Looking around the room, I don’t find anything I can take from here that would fill in for a gift. Is a visit enough if I show up empty-handed? It will have to do unless I can find a shop open on the way to her place.
I hit the streets, surprised to see anyone out today, though there aren’t many. I like the solace of the darkness and winter. The holiday keeps the hordes off the streets, giving me plenty of room in my mind to wander without bumping into reality.
Dipping into a corner shop, I pull a small bouquet of pink flowers, my mom’s favorite color, from a bucket at the entry. I then wander down the two aisles to see if there’s anything else I can take her. I don’t see anything until I approach the counter where a box of holiday chocolates is waiting to be purchased as a last-minute gift. They found their sucker to buy it.
“The flowers and the candy?” the man behind the counter asks.
I glance behind him at the acrylic boxes on display, and reply, “Two tickets, and . . .” I didn’t crave nicotine when I was with Sosie last night. Trading one bad habit for another? Probably. I chuckle under my breath as I reach for my wallet, knowing I came out ahead in that deal. Maybe not today since waiting around was a bunch of bullshit, but last night was fucking fantastic. I’d do it again if I had the opportunity. “A pack of the smokes on sale and this lighter.”
Lighting up as soon as I step onto the sidewalk, I stop to appreciate the instant calm the first inhale brings. I exhale slowly with a dip of my lids closing to extend the pleasure before heading toward the nearest station and catching the subway.
There are plenty of seats tonight, so I lean up against the corner of the train. Nobody makes eye contact, but after a sweep of my surroundings, I stare at the flowers. I don’t know what I’m going to say to my mom and don’t want to rehearse anything. It’s my mom. Even if she didn’t always know how to tell me or show me, I know she loves me. This doesn’t need to be a big deal. I’ll go, give her a hug, and then head on out to Sosie’s.
But is visiting my mom killing time before going to Sosie’s, or is it genuine? I want to see my mom again, and an inkling of hope that this time will be different still exists deep inside me.
And since trepidation has been squeezing my chest, volleying me between fear that last night is all I’ll get and the agitation that I want more and that might not happen, this will give me time to work through it. So yeah, I give myself a break as I walk into the unknown of two different situations, relying on hope in both cases.
A few blocks from where I exit, I pull on the door that opens because the maintenance man still hasn’t fixed it since my last visit six months ago on my mom’s birthday. The entrance is dark, and when standing here, I can hear fighting on the other side of apartment one’s front door. I walk down the hall to theback of the building and stand just behind the stairs to take a breath before knocking on the door that’s hidden there.
I hear a man’s voice before the door opens. A boyfriend that I didn’t even know would still be around peers through the crack over the rusted chain. The door closes before muffled words are exchanged. I hear my name, and then the chain is released. When the door opens again, it swings open like no one was ever on the other side. The invitation rings hollow as I’m left to decide whether to go inside or stay where I’m at.
Stepping forward, a football game is on loudly in the small living room off to the left, but John’s hearing wasn’t good, from what I remember. The scent of something cooking hits my nostrils, stirring my hunger, and has me wondering why I wasn’t invited over. Does my mom not realize that I’m sitting alone on the holidays because I didn’t feel I had a home outside the one I had to create on my own?
Do I give her the benefit of the doubt that she isn’t aware that I’m working sixty hours plus on school breaks to make ends meet? Christmas dinner was the last thing I had time to plan, much less go shopping for, with the schedule I’ve been working. Hoping for scraps left over from rich people’s parties was a fucking highlight of a shift. So to stand outside my mom’s apartment knowing she’s cooking dinner for a guy she’s dating over her own fucking son leaves me feeling as empty as Sosie has all day.
I set the flowers and the candy on the pilling red rug in front of her door and walk away. I was stupid for coming here in the first place. If she really wanted to see me, she would have made the effort or invited me to dinner. Instead, she sent me a guilt text earlier in the week saying she never gets to see me and a lame Merry Christmas today.
That’s fucking it.
I push through the main door, landing back with my boots in the slush that’s gathered at the stoop. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I start walking. I knew this was a mistake. My gut told me not to come. Not alone anyway.
