Fed up
I groan, and make sure they see me rolling my eyes. “You two are ridiculous. It’s a sweater. Can we stop with the grand inquisition?”
“That’s not a no,” she says.
“It’s time to open presents,” I say, gritting my teeth. “Let’s get everyone into the living room.”
I have met someone, and that’s great. But it’s frustrating to no end that they think I wasn’t happy before. I was happy. I was fine. I don’t need to be married to feel completed. The boys have transformed the living room so everyone has room to sit. The couch has been pushed back against my bedroom doors, chairs from the dining room brought in so that there’s a giant circle.
I take the armchair that’s been pressed up against the window, and I notice that Trevor takes the space across from me in the circle. It’s the first time he’s seen me dressed today, and I watch his gaze slide slowly down my body and return. He gives me a slow nod and a smile, and a warm glow takes up residence in my stomach, all my annoyance at my sisters disappearing.
I love family Christmas. I always have. We have enough people that the pile of presents under the tree is large, and it’s fun to see them passed out. I love seeing joy brought to people’s faces by something I thought to buy them. We don’t tear into the presents either, we take turns. June always acts as ‘Santa,’ trying to make sure the gifts we’re opening are evenly distributed so no one opens all their presents at once. It takes longer, and I make sure that the snacks keep flowing, but I think it’s way more fun than everyone pouncing on their gifts and being done ten minutes later.
The twins love their headphones, and June enjoys the gift card I got her to her favorite make-up store. My own haul is good. I get some expensive tea that smells delicious, and a DVD of an obscure TV show I liked when I was younger, along with some clothes and a few gift cards. All in all, everyone seems to be very pleased by the gifts.
Even Trevor received gifts in the form of gift cards to use at coffee shops around BU. I liked watching him be surprised-I knew he thought he wasn’t getting anything at all. He’ll have a gift from me on the real Christmas day, but he doesn’t know that either.
When all the gifts are open, it’s early afternoon and we’re all starving. The house is beginning to smell like turkey. We attack the kitchen to prepare for the rest of the food, and we all fall into our familiar roles of what to do and where to be. Luckily, Richard doesn’t have to run to the store for anything. In the middle of everyone getting ready, I manage to pull Trevor aside.
“No under the table things this time.”
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“Trevor, please. I’m serious.”
He leans down and gives me a quick kiss on the mouth. “All right. I’ll behave. I don’t want to go back to sleeping on the couch.”
I punch him lightly in the arm, and he catches me to press another kiss against my lips. “You’ll get my present on Christmas.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I whisper.
“But I did. So there’s nothing you can do about it,” he says, grinning and pushing me back into the kitchen before anyone even realizes that I’m gone. Sure enough, when we gather around the table, Trevor has claimed the seat next to mine again. Although this time I’m not anxious. I enjoy the feeling of our legs pressed together, the secret contact grounding me.
The food is good. The best sign of a good meal is silence, and we’re preoccupied with eating for a long time before anyone speaks. And when we finally do, it’s a slow start to the conversation. It’s only when our bellies are stuffed full of turkey, trying to debate how long we need to wait for dessert, that we really start the talking.
“So,” Anna asks Bradley. “When are you guys leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning,” he says. “We’re going to spend some time with June’s grandparents. They live down near us and are still kicking.”
June laughs. “They’re going to outlive everyone.”
“Maria,” I say, “what are your plans for Christmas?”
She shrugs. “I don’t have any solid plans. I figured I’d just drift.”
“You want to come over for dinner? It’ll be just me and these two.” I nod towards Brad and Trevor.
“Sure,” she says, and I think I hear a bit of relief in her voice. “That sounds like fun.”
“I just want to say-in case I forget because of pregnancy brain-thank you everyone for the gifts.”
“Yes,” I say, “thank you.”
There are murmurs of additional thank-yous around the table, and Bradley laughs. “You got almost everything you needed, Stella.”
“Almost?”
“Well, you got everything you asked for except a man.”
My stomach drops, and I feel Trevor go stiff beside me as people laugh. “Ha-ha. Very funny,” I say, trying to brush it off.
“But maybe he’s just not here yet,” Anna chimes in. “Who knows, maybe Santa will drop him down the chimney on Christmas day.”
“Can we not do this today?” I ask.
Bradley doesn’t listen, his words overlapping on top of mine. “You might like that. Right, Stella? Someone dressed in nothing but a Christmas stocking?”
“Seriously?” I say. It’s loud, and everyone falls silent. I don’t care, they deserve it, and I deserve to be loud. “I’ve asked you to stop. It’s our family Christmas, can’t you give it a rest? Even just for today?”
I grab my plate and take it to the kitchen. I resist the urge to throw it in the sink. Instead, I just stand there. I wonder if I should leave, take a walk, and cool my head. It might be less awkward than the deathly silence that I hear behind me. I hear the screech of a chair being pushed back, but I don’t look to see who it is, who they silently elected to come talk to me.
The doorbell rings, and I jump. I make a mental calculation, just to satisfy myself that everyone is here. They are. So who could that be? I’m closest to the door anyway. When I pull it open, I find the last person I was expecting standing on my front steps-it’s Brad’s ex, Leigh.