We called it the Orphans’ Potluck because none of us had parents to spend Christmas Eve with. Jesse’s and Zane’s were dead, Brody hated his, and my dad lived out of town. My mom lived in the city but she always spent her Christmas Eve at church, so I’d see her on Christmas Day. Back then, Jesse and Zane would spend Christmas Day with Zane’s grandma, Dolly, Brody would spend it with his parents—when they managed to force him to—or at Dolly’s, or he’d come with me to mymom’s.
Couple of years after that, Brody’s dad died anyway and his mom fucked off to wherever with her newhusband.
So, Orphans’Potluck.
We still did it every year on Christmas Eve. Each year, one of the four of us guys took our turn hosting. We kept the invite list pretty tight, just the inner circle, but everyone brought food to contribute and it was always one hell of afeast.
As for Christmas Day nowadays, we all had family we loved, to celebrate with. I still had my mom and my brother. Zane still had Dolly. But Jesse now had Katie and her family, and Brody had Jessa andNick.
Actually, it definitely felt like this year, with Jessa back and a new baby in the mix, we all had a little more tocelebrate.
And now… I hadRoni.
When I stepped out of the shower, I wrapped a towel on, loosely, and wandered out into the hall, just in case she felt like celebrating the holiday season again. But she dashed right by me and into the bathroom. “Thanks,” she said, “I won’t be long.” Then she shut the door in my face and turned on theshower.
Guess that meant I wasn’t joining her inthere.
As I dried off and got dressed, it was sinking in that she was definitely acting a little off. It wasn’t like I knew what she was like in the morning, exactly. Some people were groggy in the morning, or short with their words or just plain out of it until they had a coffee. But this wasn’tthat.
Maybe she was put off by the fact that I’d asked her to meet me at Brody and Jessa’s place—instead of asking her to gowithme?
If so, I really wasn’t sure how to make up for it, other than pull out her Christmas gift a littleearly.
When she got out of the shower, I had it sitting on the kitchen table. I was dressed, but she’d taken it to the next level. Clothes on, purse on her shoulder and jacket in hand, like she was ready to leave a trail of dust. When she saw the gift box, though, shestopped.
She looked at me, then looked at itagain.
“Another gift from Janice?” she asked me, completelydeadpan.
Jesus, the girl hadsass.
“Read the damncard.”
She set her jacket and purse down and carefully nudged open the little folded tag that I’d barely been able to write on, it was so damntiny.
“Veronica,” she read aloud. “Merry Christmas.” She turned it over. “Hmm. It’s not signed byanyone.”
“Must be from damn SantaClaus.”
“Guess he cameearly?”
“Don’t be abrat.”
A smile spread, tentatively, across her face. Her cheeks were kinda flushed from her shower, her black hair a little damp, but she still didn’t have any makeup on, and I had this weird thought that she was gonna look really beautiful when she got old. One of those women who just got better with age. Her black hair turning gracefully to silver and then white, and her pale skin just suiting her and all the old guys hound-dogging all overher.
Jesus.
The fuck was wrong withme?
The holidays were making me sentimental as fuck, orsomething.
I watched as she very carefully, almost timidly, slipped her fingers under the tape and gradually peeled open the silver wrapping paper with the little bells all over it. The woman at the store chose it, and by the way Roni was treating it like it was fine-spun gold, I figured it was a good choice. She finally unwrapped the white box inside, then started the process all over again with the tape that was holding the boxtogether.
“While we’re young, sweetheart. Christmas is gonna come andgo.”
She threw me a quick glare and resumed peeling. When she’d worked the lid open, she pulled it back, exposing the silvery-gray tissue paper inside. She plucked at it gently, loosening it from the gift in thebox.
“You’re killin’me.”
