I have a love-hate relationship with the holidays. Especially Christmas. I love the music, the movies, and the decorations. I love the sense of spirit, the coming together of friends and family. I love buying and wrapping gifts. What I hate is the stress and the greed and the rushing.
This year, I also particularly hate my older sister sitting on her fiancé’s lap next to the fireplace with her big-ass beacon of an engagement ring on her finger and a pile of presents next to her that’s taller than I am. All presents from him, wrapped up in telltale paper clearly from upscale stores like Tiffany and Nordstrom.
Yes, I’m a jealous, immature bitch for feeling this way, but that’s just where I am in my life right now—hating people who have what I want. And I don’t mean material things. I mean having that special person involved in every part of your life.
I finger the beaded bracelet Blue gave me a few weeks ago, which I haven’t taken off once and which has more value to me than any diamond tennis bracelet ever could. But he’s not here, and I wish he was.
As I sip my crystal glass of eggnog, I try to picture Blue here with me, sitting on the loveseat beside me and opening presents. I can easily imagine him laughing and joking with my family, even playing holiday songs on his guitar. Once upon a time, my grandfather played the banjo, and I can imagine him and Blue talking in great depth about music. My grandmother would touch his hair and tell him how unfair it is for a man to have such beautiful, wavy hair.
That illusion quickly fades, and in its place, I can see my father drilling Blue with questions about what he does for work, what his five-year plan is, and why he’s wasting time playing music when that’s a dead-end dream for hippies. I can hear my sisters giggling about how good-looking he would be if he would cut his hair. I can understand why Blue wouldn’t want to deal with any of that.
My mother approaches me where I sit in the dining room. “Honey, why are you hiding way over here? Come sit with the rest of us. Grandma can’t even see you sitting this far away.”
“I’m not hiding, Mom. There wasn’t any place to sit.”
“There’s always room. Don’t be so shy, sweetie. I thought your boyfriend was going to join us. Your father and I were looking forward to meeting him. You’ve practically moved in with him, and we haven’t even met him yet.”
My fingers tighten around my glass. “I haven’t moved in with him.”
“Piper, you’re hardly ever home anymore. That poor cat cries all night for you.”
My head snaps to face her. I’m sure she must be exaggerating. “What? He does not.”
“Yes, he does. We can hear him from up here. I’ve gone down to check on him, and he’s just sitting at the door, meowing. The poor thing misses you.”
God, now I feel terrible. I had no idea Archie missed me when I wasn’t home. He usually ignores me or only comes near me when he wants food or to have his head petted for five minutes exactly. Not a moment less or longer or he’ll bite or scratch me.
“My boyfriend couldn’t make it. I’m going to go see him later, after we open the presents.”
“I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere tonight. It’s snowing, and I don’t want to be worrying about you driving around on Christmas Eve in ice and snow. Your grandmother will be worried sick, too.”
“Mom—”
“I know you’re an adult, Piper, but that’s no reason to be unsafe or cause your family to worry about you on a holiday. And what kind of man lets a woman drive around at all hours of the night anyway? Especially in the snow.”
I am not at all in the mood to go down this road with her tonight. I’ve heard it all many times in the past few weeks. “Mom, can we not do this tonight?”
Her bright red lips part, then close to a thin smile. “You’re right. It’s Christmas. But promise me you won’t go out tonight. The roads are so bad that your grandparents are staying here. Haven’t you looked outside?”
I’ve been too busy daydreaming to think about the weather. When I told Blue yesterday that I’d be coming to see him tonight, I had no idea it was supposed to snow today. Dammit. My sucky driving sucks even worse in bad weather. Even if my mother wasn’t trying to ground me like a teenager, I wouldn’t be keen on driving across town tonight.
“Okay.” I give in. “I’ll stay home. But tomorrow I’m going to see him.”
“If that’s what you want to do. I’d much prefer he come here for dinner, but I’m not going to argue with you. Now come sit in the living room with the rest of the family.”
I try to enjoy the rest of the night and be happily joyous, but I’m just not feeling it this year. I miss Blue and Acorn, and my heart aches to be with them. I’m worried about Blue being alone, especially if it’s snowing and he can’t walk anywhere to get what he needs or clear his mind.
Ever since the night at the diner, his dark mood has clung to him like a shroud. There have been a few fleeting moments when he’s laughed and smiled, but it seemed forced. He’s been dark and cloudy, much like the storms he both loves and hates, and I wonder when the rainbow of light and color will return.
