by Sutton, Jacy
“On the contrary,” Nancy said, setting her empty mug down on the slate side table, evidently having decided to hold at three. “I wrote, ‘Put the coffee on,’ followed by a slew of exclamation points.”
The word “no” escaped Marti’s lips.
But Olivia had more faith. “Then?” she asked simply.
“An hour later, he texted, ‘Where are you? What are you doing?’ and I wrote, ‘Dumping you.’”
Marti looked a bit sheepish and walked over to where Nancy sat. “Honey,” she said, putting her arm around Nancy’s thin shoulders, “that was the worst sex story I’ve ever heard.”
“Marti,” Olivia said, feeling she should come to Nancy’s defense. “Not everyone’s sex life is Hugh Hefner and Playboy Bunnies all the time.”
“I know that, Olivia.” Marti looked at her unflinchingly. “My life is not a soft-core porno, you know.”
“Please. You and Gary have the hottest sex of anyone I’ve ever heard of.”
“Yes, it’s hot.” Marti stepped closer to Olivia, her presence physically demanding attention. “When we’re in Vegas or Cabo. The problem is a midwinter, Thursday night roll in the sack.” Marti turned her gaze toward the picture window. It was dark out now, and the light in the living room was so low, Olivia couldn’t make out Marti’s expression.
“Do you ever use the toys you bought at the party?” Nancy asked neither of them in particular. “I was thinking that night with Evan, maybe if I’d had it…” she trailed off.
“I haven’t even shown it to Mike,” Olivia said. “It’s still in the package.”
“What are you waiting for?” Marti asked.
“I guess the moment to share a vibrating pink penis with a butterfly attached hasn’t presented itself. Does Gary like using it?”
Marti shrugged as though Gary’s viewpoint on her sex toy had never come under consideration.
“Does he ever ask you to bring it out?” Olivia asked.
“The toy?” Marti said.
“Yes,” Olivia said, as though the work of this conversation may not have been worth its meager return.
“The toy’s not for us,” Marti answered. She turned back to look out the picture window again. “It’s for quiet, midwinter Thursday nights before Gary comes to bed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
OLIVIA AWOKE ON CHRISTMAS MORNING to a quiet calm. The only sound was Mike clacking a ceramic mug in the kitchen as he puttered with the coffeemaker that even now, three years to the day after they’d got it, still vexed him. Daniel, having outgrown the feverish holiday mornings of childhood, slept soundly, confident a bounty of gifts awaited him whether he woke at five in the morning or noon.
Olivia grabbed her robe and wandered into the kitchen to find Mike halfway through wrapping a box of Isotoner gloves, the kind Olivia’s mother had kept in her purse from October through March during her entire childhood.
He peeked over at her. “Darn it. Almost done.”
“No need to bother now,” Olivia said, forcing her mouth into an unattractive smile.
“Shall I finish wrapping it and put it under the tree?”
Olivia shrugged and stepped past him to grab a cup.
“I’m sorry,” he said, setting the tape down. Without his finger, or the tape, the paper wrap unfurled and lay lifeless on the countertop.
Silently, Olivia poured her coffee and brushed past him into the living room. She sat on the couch, closed her eyes, counted to ten, then opened them and looked at the majestic tree, trying to recapture the serene mood she’d woke with ten minutes before.
The tree itself stood eight feet, nearly touching the ceiling in the living room. The colorful decorations featured an eclectic mix of every single ornament Daniel had ever created, from handprints on paper plates to pipe-cleaner angels, along with shiny holiday balls in red, green, and gold. Daniel, as he did every year, remained in charge of tinsel. Olivia looked at the evenly spread silver strands, reaching the entire way up the tree, and blinked away a tear, remembering Daniel’s preschool years, when huge clumps of the silvery stuff lay solely on the lowest branches.
The number of packages under the tree had always been modest with just the three of them, but now even the package sizes had changed. Instead of oversized boxes with Tonka trucks and thousand-piece LEGO sets, Daniel’s haul featured the tiniest boxes of all. Olivia had wrapped an Xbox NHL hockey game, plus a wallet stuffed with a $200-dollar gift card to Dick’s Sporting Goods, which would allow Daniel to choose a pair of cross-training Nikes or field boots, or whatever else caught his eye on the post-Christmas shopping trip.
Under the tree for Mike, Olivia had some new work clothes, a couple shirts, and a pair of khakis, along with a game warden’s memoir from the early 1900s and a voucher for the resort in Ely that Mike had mentioned at the Halloween party.
Mike walked into the living room with his hands full. In his right hand were two small envelopes, presumably containing gift cards, and in his left, a plastic Target shopping bag with something heavy inside. He set the envelopes below the tree, near his own wrapped gifts, and handed the bag to Olivia.
“I didn’t get a chance to finish wrapping this, either,” he said sheepishly.
Olivia looked inside the bag. There was an unattractive gray box containing a set of ankle weights, five pounds each.
“I threw those other ones out,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “So.…”
Olivia looked up at him. She wondered, if she swung the weights and hit him on the head, if it would form one of those oversized lumps that characters like Yosemite Sam got in the cartoons, or if the impact would simply kill him.
“Merry Christmas, Mom and Dad,” Daniel mumbled, walking in at just the right moment to save his father’s life. “I’m ready to open presents.” His eyes managed to be both half shut and shiny with anticipation.
Soon the gifts had been reduced to opened boxes, discarded wrapping paper and bows, and the plastic Target bag, which had come in handy as a trash receptacle. Olivia gathered up the gift cards Mike had bought her. There was one for Bed Bath & Beyond and one for Amazon, and Daniel’s gift to her, which was much better: a complete Blu-ray set of Jane Austen films.
Olivia took her stash of gifts in one hand, the now-trash bag from Target in the other, and went to the kitchen to prepare their traditional holiday breakfast of Belgian waffles, piled with fresh raspberries, powdered sugar, and maple syrup.
Olivia was quiet during breakfast, which must have led Mike to believe things were okay and his gifts had been well received.
“I’ll have to get a date on the calendar for Ely,” he said, picking up Daniel’s plate from the table after they’d finished eating. Daniel had already wandered back to his room to store his new things.
“Yep.” Olivia somehow managed to make the short word sound even more clipped.
“You know, the great thing about that resort gift certificate is you’ll enjoy it as much as I will. It’s really for both of us,” Mike said, looking at her like an expectant puppy.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’ll be a vacation for all of us.”
“I’m not going. I have no interest in a weekend at a fishing resort.”
“You could read in the boat,” he said.
“Do you think if I go along on the vacation I planned for you that it’s okay you barely acknowledged Christmas for me?”
Mike looked down as though the floor suddenly fascinated him. Olivia watched him for a long moment and then went back to loading the dishwasher.
“It was insulting, you know?” She didn’t look at him as she spoke.
“What was?”
“Waking up Christmas morning to you wrapping my gifts. Well, the one you partially wrapped as opposed to the one that came in the plastic bag.”
Mike sighed heavily. He stared at the broom in his hand as though he couldn’t remember how it had ended up there. “It just snuck up on me. I’m sorry.”
Olivia
wasn’t sure if he was referring to the broom or Christmas. “Understandable, what with it being on the twenty-fifth this year and all.”
“I am sorry, Olivia. I’ve been busy at work. I know it’s no excuse. And then trying to mentor Jo.”
“Are you saying spending too much time with a twenty-one-year-old who likes to dress in the tightest possible outfits makes it okay you didn’t buy me a decent gift or take five minutes to wrap it?”
He looked up at her, and his lips opened to say something, then snapped shut like a goldfish searching for food. “I am sorry,” he repeated. He came toward her with his hands and arms out.
She sidestepped out of his reach and removed the plastic dishwashing gloves, even though the sink was still half full with dirty dishes, and the dishwasher still half empty. She stared at him, watching him shift uncomfortably. Finally she spoke, but slowly, coldly, angrily. “It was insulting.” And she walked out of the room.
An hour later, she, Daniel, and Mike reassembled for the two-hour drive to Eau Claire. Daniel took possession of the driver’s wheel and Mike rode shotgun. Olivia snuggled in the back reading, curled in a fleece blanket with a thermos of coffee.
“Did you bring along an extra cup, by any chance?” Mike asked.
Olivia sighed, more to herself than aloud. It was Daniel’s Christmas, too, and she wouldn’t ruin it. So instead of hitting Mike over the head with the thermos, she refilled her cup with lukewarm coffee and handed it to him in the front seat.
They arrived at Terri’s house to find their niece, her husband, and their young daughter making a paltry snowman in the front yard with the thin ground cover of snow. Laura, the young mother, greeted them. She picked up the snow-suited toddler and waved the little girl’s hand for her.
“Emma, look! It’s your great uncle and great auntie! And cousin Daniel!”
Olivia paused at the title, great aunt. She imagined grandma would not be far behind. She hugged her niece and peeked at the young girl’s face, nearly hidden by her pistachio-green knit hat.
“Look at that adorable girl,” Olivia said. “But you all look cold.”
“We are, but we need to tire Emma out if she’s going to sleep this afternoon.”
“Good luck!” Olivia called over her shoulder, shepherding her group into the warm house, thankful her toddler-tiring-out days were behind her.
The small house was overheated, overrun with people, overloud, and wonderfully inviting. Mike’s sister, Terri, pulled them inside with energetic, extended hugs. When she finally released each one, she stepped back to admire Daniel and commented on how tall and handsome he’d become. Olivia rubbed Terri’s arm appreciatively.
“You look so festive today,” Olivia said, taking in her sister-in-law’s holly-red turtleneck, white velour pants and Mardi Gras beads in red and green.
“Oh,” she said, proudly patting the dime-store beads. “Emma saw these at the store and insisted on buying them for Grammie.”
“I still can hardly believe you’re anyone’s Grammie. You look just like you did the day Mike first brought me home.”
“No, I don’t,” Terri protested sweetly. “I look just like I should. Wrinkles, gray hair, and a little belly. And I’m proud of it all.”
Terri’s husband Greg joined them, giving Mike a bear hug and Daniel a firm handshake with one hand grasping his forearm warmly. As Greg greeted the men, Olivia took in the scene: people in the family room, dining room, and kitchen. There was colorful wrap on the floor that had been ripped from gifts but not yet thrown away, a few empty coffee mugs, presents in protective piles, tucked away on couches or table ends. The dining room overflowed with the main table, two small card tables, and chairs filling the rest of the available space.
Greg grabbed Olivia and hugged her tightly. “You are still such a little thing,” he said, picking her up several inches off the ground. “Can you cook any better than you used to?”
“Greg.” Terri shook her head admonishingly. “Take Mike and Daniel into the family room, and Olivia can come with me into the kitchen to help.” Then she winked at Greg and said in a stage-pantomime whisper, “Maybe I’ll let her arrange carrots on a tray or something.” Olivia shook her head dismissively, but she didn’t mind the ribbing. It made her feel part of the clan.
When they all settled in to eat, Olivia could proudly claim having made the apricot-glazed sweet potatoes. She sat lodged between Terri’s youngest daughter, Debbie, who had just graduated college the past spring, and Mike’s aunt, who had turned ninety the month before. Olivia had been awarded the prize of cuddling Emma’s tiny sister Alice, just seven-weeks-old. The baby slept soundly in her arms, blocking out the chaos of the holiday. It felt like a Lifetime Channel holiday special. Olivia answered questions about Daniel’s school and asked Debbie about her job prospects. She smiled a lot at Mike’s aunt, who looked happy to be there, although she wasn’t quite sure exactly where there was.
After dinner, most of the group drove the couple mile stint to Olivia and Mike’s hotel, which had an indoor pool and hot tub. Olivia stayed to help Terri clean. Mike’s aunt stayed because she’d fallen asleep sitting upright on the couch, a thick afghan wrapped around her bony shoulders. Terri and Olivia sipped Franzia Zinfandel from a box, and Olivia thought, certainly by the second glass, it tasted quite good.
“I bet Emma’s loving splashing around in that pool,” Terri said, digging into the big pile of pans to wash.
“I’m sure she is. I should have sent you over there with them.”
“And left you alone with this mess?”
“I could have made a dent in it. Maybe.” Olivia surveyed the wreckage in the kitchen.
“I don’t care about swimming, of course, but I always love to hold Alice. I saw you clutching her at dinner.”
“I know. What’s cuddlier than a baby?”
“I’ll get my chance next week. I get the kids on New Year’s Eve.”
“What are Laura and Andy doing?” Olivia began to load the dishwasher with dinner plates.
“They’re going to a party. Some friends from college or high school, I think.”
“That sounds fun.”
“Oh, I’ll pass. I’m way too old for parties,” Terri said.
“You’ll be taking care of a toddler and a newborn. That’s exhausting, don’t you think?”
“No,” Terri said, absolutely. “Sitting in my cozy house, playing dolls with Emma and cuddling Alice? It’s lovely. Dressing up for a party and shouting small talk over loud music, that seems like an effort to me.”
Olivia looked closely at Terri. Her deep copper hair was cut short, some silver strands framing her face. It had thinned a bit from the days when Olivia and Terri had first met. Terri’s eyes were still bright green, but crow’s feet set them off now. And yet, she looked lovely. There was a warmth in her expression Olivia wasn’t sure she’d possessed at twenty.
“Terri, you sound like you’re ready for a retirement community in Sunnyville, Arizona. Remember in college? You’d take me out to happy hour and I’d be ready to go home, and you and your friends would drag me along for hours?”
Terri gave a full-bodied laugh, pulling Olivia back instantly to those days. “I remember. But barely.”
“It wasn’t so long ago,” Olivia said, but she wasn’t sure she actually believed that. “I wish you and Greg were free on New Year’s. We always used to get together with Nancy and Dave. But last year, without him, it just felt too sad.”
“What will Nancy do this year?” Terri asked.
“She’s taking the girls to see Dave’s folks in Green Bay. I guess Mike and I had better make other plans fast. I hate staying in.”
“Why? You don’t have to deal with drunks then. Or wine that costs twelve dollars a glass.” She lifted her glass of boxed Zinfandel.
“I always feel left out if we end up sitting home watching Dick Clark.”
“I think there’s someone else now. That boy from American Idol.”
“I d
on’t want to ring in New Year’s with either of them.”
“Come back here and spend the night with us and the girls,” Terri offered.
Olivia smiled warmly at her sister-in-law, but didn’t find the idea appealing in the least. “Terri, are there ever times when you want to just stop time and shout, I’m way too young for this!”
“I loved being young,” Terri said as she stopped washing the encrusted silver cake pan. “But now I love this.” She held up her arms to indicate all the chaos surrounding them. “Just wait till Daniel brings home some nice girl from college. Then you’ll feel differently.”
And it suddenly struck Olivia how long ago her college days were and how quickly Daniel’s approached.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
NEW YEAR’S EVE had been an enjoyable, if somewhat ordinary evening. Olivia and Mike went to dinner with Beth and Max at a hip little uptown café where the food was delicious, what little there was of it, and the waiters were funky, friendly, and pretentious all at once.
“Have you had the vitello tonnato?” the tattooed young man with skinny jeans and olive green converse sneakers asked. “It’s thinly sliced veal with a creamy tuna caper sauce infused with a juniper vodka for an eclectic flavor.”
At midnight, the four had promptly rung in the New Year with $15 a glass champagne. By 12:35, Olivia and Mike were home.
Even more surprising, Daniel had beat them there. His down jacket lay in a damp heap in front of the hall closet. Beside it was a pair of blaze-orange overalls, also wet, and also carelessly discarded.
Olivia reached to pick them up.
“I can bring those to the laundry room,” Mike said.
She handed him the clothes, shaking her head. “I wonder why Daniel had those out. I thought he was going to a movie with Matt.”
“Ask him,” Mike said matter-of-factly.
But when Olivia went up to Daniel’s room, she saw beneath the door the light had already been turned off.
“I guess he didn’t so much ring in the New Year as sleep it in,” Olivia told Mike when she came back down stairs.
