by Magan Vernon
I finally made it to the bathroom, and before I could put my hand on the door it opened.
“Oh! Sorry!” The sheepish voice said.
I tried not to gasp while I took in the girl before me. She looked like my evil twin. My very skin twin. Dark circles decorated her eyes, and her cheek bones were sunken in. It was obvious she was trying to somehow make something appear fuller with her blonde wavy hair that looked like it was curled at one time, but now fell limply at her side.
She was almost as tall as me in her stilettos, and her skin-tight black dress left little to the imagination, including her bluish tinted pale skin and sunken chest. Was this what I looked like when I got sick?
I swallowed hard. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in there.”
“Oh, no, you’re fine,” she said in a week voice, running her hands through her hair while her dark eyes darted everywhere but mine.
“Ana! Babe! There you are!”
I cringed, hearing a voice I definitely recognized.
I turned toward the sound, and there stood my ex-boyfriend, Beau, looking every bit the stereotypical douchebag in a tuxedo t-shirt and ripped jeans that looked like they were torn by a machine and not from actual wear. He carried a drink in each hand and swayed a bit with his walk.
He shook his head as he got closer, and I was pretty sure a pound of gel flew out of his spiky black hair. “Hey, Libby! Haven’t seen you around!”
I crossed my arms over my chest. The last time I’d seen the guy was after Blaine punched him, because he pushed me and called me a bitch. Of course Beau might have been too drunk to remember that entire night.
“Yep. Been awhile,” I muttered, trying to make as much space between as possible while he shoved his way in between me and Ana.
“Guess you met my girlfriend. Sorry if this is awkward. She’s a Kappa newbie like you were. Guess I’ve got a thing for blonde Kappas.” He snorted as if he said the funniest thing ever, then downed one of his drinks.
Ana looked from me to her feet and back to her feet. Obviously, this was awkward for all of us, and suddenly I didn’t need the bathroom anymore.
Looking at this girl, I saw the old me. The girl that hid behind a false sense of joy. The girl that needed a guy like Beau to keep up whatever attempt at happiness she had even though she was miserable.
But, I wasn’t that girl anymore.
“Um, I’m sorry. I thought my boyfriend went this way, but I guess he didn’t, so I’m going to go find him,” I blurted, trying to escape as quickly as possible.
“Ah! Billy Bob is here! Does he have you churning butter and pregnant yet?” Beau threw his arm around Ana, laughing at his own lame attempt at a joke.
I shook my head, thinking that didn’t even deserved a response. “I’ll see you all later. Have a good night.”
Before they could get another word in, I turned around and darted the other way as fast as I could.
I bolted into the living room, quickly stopping and smoothing out my dress, so I didn’t look like a crazy person. But no one was looking at me anyway. Everyone was in their own world, talking to the person next to them. Or more like groping the person next to them.
This wasn’t where I belonged.
Once upon a time I thought it was. I thought this was the be all, end all.
But as my eyes scanned the room, and I saw Blaine by one of the windows, I knew that with him was where I was supposed to be. Not with all this attempt at glamour, but wherever he was, being myself. No judgment. No fancy dressing. Just us.
I crossed the room, smiling so hard I thought my face might break.
“Hey you,” I said.
Blaine turned around slowly, a hint of a smile on his lips as he swirled some kind of brown liquid around in his cup. “Hey. I wasn’t sure I’d find you again.”
“I was just talking to Kristi, then headed to the bathroom.”
He let out a single laugh. “Yeah, I saw her over at the bar. She made Gabe give me some kind of liquor I’d never heard of, and it tastes like tire air, so I’m kind of just swirling it around and trying to figure out where I can set this glass down.”
I took the glass and put it down on the ground next to us. “There. Now that that’s taken care of, how about we go find a place to get some hot chocolate and head back to my parents?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You don’t want to stay and spend some more time with your friends?”
I shook my head and looped my arm through his. “If you would have asked me a year ago, I may have said you were crazy, and that I wanted to stay here all night. But not now. Now, I just want to spend the night, sipping hot cocoa with you.”
He leaned in and lightly kissed my lips. “That may be the sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”
I tugged on his hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Chapter 21
Christmas Eve was always a big family event for us. It was one of the few times I actually saw both sides of my families.
My dad didn’t have much family in Illinois, and my mom’s family basically ran their own lawyer dynasty in Chicago.
That didn’t stop everyone from meeting at the Catholic church in the suburbs for a Christmas Eve service.
I think everyone who was anyone went to that same mass, and it was always packed and smelled of leather and cigar smoke from all the old men.
Blaine was unusually quiet the entire day, only really speaking when he was spoken to and mainly one word answers. When I tried to hold his hand in the car, he only briefly held it before squeezing it and letting go. I was hoping it was just nerves about meeting my family, and the fact that he’d been in a suit instead of his usual jeans and t-shirt.
The church parking lot was already packed, even though it was still half an hour until mass started. We had to park way out at the end of the parking lot. Even though it was freezing, and I didn’t want to do the long walk in dress shoes, it was still nice to be back at the church and see all of it lit up for Christmas.
I never went to mass much with my parents back home. They never really went either. We were more of the Christmas and Easter Catholics. But, like clockwork, every Sunday, I would go with Aunt Dee and Britt to the small Baptist church in Elsbury, where basically the whole town went.
Blaine finally gave in and wore one of my dad’s coats, and he even let me loop my arm through his as we made our way into the large brick building.
A man in a black suit opened the door for us. I had no idea who he was. I didn’t know if he worked for the church, was a volunteer, or what, but he smiled and ushered my family inside.
Every bit of the church was decorated in Christmas decor, even though the church was already picturesque with its tall pillars and walls covered in beautiful stained glass that depicted different religious scenes.
All the pews were already filled with people, leading up to where the priest would stand amongst all of the garland, and the live nativity that would be set up just below the altar.
“Mom! Dad!” Beth’s voice called through the crowd before she pushed through some people. She was in a dark maroon sweater dress and definitely didn’t look like someone that was six months pregnant with her flowing hair and sky high heels.
“Beth!” Mom said and gave her a hug.
“Come on, guys, Grandpa, Leslie, and Brian are already in their seats. We saved you spots.”
We followed Beth through the throngs of people, until we got to the pew in the middle where the rest of the family was. Grandpa was at the end of the row, dressed sharply as always in his three-piece suit with his full head of white hair combed to the side. He’d also obviously had Botox recently, because his tanned face did not move at all.
“So, this is the young southern man that stole our Libby’s heart?” Grandpa asked, giving Blaine the once over.
Blaine shook his hand, but I could see his eyes grazing over to Leslie, Grandpa’s much younger wife.
Grandpa was my Dad’s dad, the one who was married t
o my grandma who is Aunt Dee’s sister. Grandma passed away around 14 years ago, and Grandpa got remarried to his dental assistant, Leslie, who was also half his age.
Don’t get me wrong, Leslie was as nice as could be, but the girl was younger than my Dad and had a pixie cut and visible tattoos. She also had boobs that I wasn’t sure if they were real or just looked really buoyant, especially in her low-cut black dress which definitely wasn’t church appropriate.
“Yes, sir, I guess I’m that guy,” Blaine said, laughing nervously at the end of his sentence.
Mom put her hand on Blaine’s back and smiled tightly as if she was trying to assure him that we all found it weird that Grandpa had a younger wife. “Blaine, this is Grandpa’s wife, Leslie, and to her side is Brian, Beth’s husband, who I believe you met last time you were here.”
“Nice to meet you ma’am. Good to see you again, Brian,” Blaine said and shook both of their hands.
“Look at that. The southern charmer is back.” Brian chortled. The guy may have been in a brown English cut suit that had to be custom-made, but that still didn’t hide his gooberness. Luckily, he was good to my sister, or I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about the bald chiropractor.
Blaine just smiled, flashing his dimples and took the seat next to Grandpa.
I wanted to hold his hand, or do something to reassure him that it was okay, and he didn’t need to be so nervous, but I didn’t think anything would have helped at that point and the music started for mass to begin.
As the priest walked down the aisle and the music played, I felt something brush against my hand. I thought maybe it was an accident, until Blaine grabbed my hand and squeezed it lightly. I raised an eyebrow, looking at him through my lashes.
He just smiled in return and didn’t let go of my hand for the rest of the service. I guess it did take a miracle for him to finally relax. A divine one.
***
After mass, we headed to Grandpa’s place in the suburbs. We used to meet at our house after mass, but since Grandpa and Leslie didn’t want to drive home from the city late at night, we decided to meet at their townhouse.
“This is weird,” Blaine said as we pulled into their community.
“What, the fact that my step-mother is younger than me? Trust me, we all think that,” Dad said from the front seat.
Blaine shook his head. “No, sir, though that is a little funny. I was talking about how all of the houses in this neighborhood look the same.”
Dad looked in the rearview mirror. “It’s a townhouse community. All the townhouses usually do look the same. Have you never been in one before?”
Blaine laughed. “No, sir. We don’t have too many of these around where I’m from.”
Dad cracked up for the first time all day. “Blaine you break up the tension in the best way possible sometimes.”
Blaine didn’t say anything in return. I’m not sure if there was anything he could have said. I don’t know if Dad realized it was kind of a dig at Blaine, or if he was noticing much of anything.
Not that my dad wasn’t a great guy, he just wasn’t always the most perceptive person in the world. At least about certain things. He would never notice if Mom got her haircut, or if he was offending someone by laughing, but the guy could spot someone in a Bears jersey from a mile away.
Dad pulled the large SUV into Grandpa’s small driveway. I swear it was the smallest driveway in the world, and his car almost took up the whole thing.
Grandpa’s townhouse was also one of the only ones with Christmas lights. Grandpa loved decorating, and always had the house lit up like the Vegas strip. In fact, he even had a crosswalk in front of the candy cane lined path where a bunch of dancing elves strolled through the front yard, past the real working train, and Nativity set.
My parents didn’t even put up their flocked artificial tree with mom’s specially picked out bulbs until Blaine and I got there. I guess the happy medium would have been Aunt Dee’s house with the small artificial tree, stockings hung by the chimney, and the small strand of lights that went along the roofline that Blaine insisted on putting up. It wasn’t much, but it still said Christmas.
“Damn, those are some lights,” Blaine said, staring up at the large wooden Santa with eight plastic reindeer pulling his wooden sleigh. Grandpa had the thing forever, and I wasn’t sure how the old guy still got on the roof every year to put it there.
“Grandpa likes decorating,” I said with a laugh.
“I’ll say.”
We followed my parents down the lit path to the front door with the big “Santa’s Workshop” sign framed between layers of tulle that made the front entry look like a big gift.
Leslie opened the front door with her little Yorkie, Minion, in her arms. Minion was in a red sweater and had matching red bows in her long hair. She happily wagged in Leslie’s arms as we walked into the house.
Leslie never had kids of her own, and since Dad was all grown up, Minion was like Grandpa and Leslie’s only child. They got her five years ago and had an oil painting done of the three of them to commemorate her adoption. The picture still hung above the fireplace and was definitely something that I should have explained to Blaine before we got there.
“Sorry! Minion was playing before we got here, and her toys are everywhere!” Leslie laughed and picked up the whole two tiny chew bones on their dark wooden floor.
Beth and Brian were sitting on the couch and stood up, hugging all of us as soon as we came in like they hadn’t just seen us a few minutes before at church. We would have probably been there before them, if my parents didn’t argue about the right way to get from the church to Grandpa’s. Leslie and Grandpa left right after communion, so they could be home to have everything ready, and Beth and Brian had a way better parking spot, so they didn’t wait in line for what seemed like hours to leave the church.
Grandpa came down the staircase. He had changed out of his suit and into a dark gray sweater and jeans. He moved pretty quickly for an older guy, but that’s one of the things I liked about him. “I hope you guys are hungry. Henrietta made a feast fit for a king!”
Grandpa smiled and walked toward the kitchen where their reclaimed wood dining table was set with white dinnerware, coordinating with their red serve-ware.
“Who is Henrietta?” Blaine whispered.
“Their cook,” I replied.
“You mean they didn’t cook this themselves?”
I sighed. “No. No one in my family cooks. Not even my dad who had a southern mother.”
Blaine put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, I’m not judging y’all for it. I was just asking. Relax, baby.”
I let out a deep breath. I didn’t think I’d be this tense or feel like he was judging me so much. After weeks of therapy, I still had a hard time believing in myself or anything else. It was especially hard when it was the first time that I had Blaine meeting my whole family.
“Blaine, you’re in for a treat!” Leslie chirped and pulled the lids off the serving bowls. “I told our cook you were from the south, so she made some Low Country cuisine to make you feel at home.”
Shit. I tried to make my family sound like they were sort of bright, but Leslie wasn’t even getting the right state.
Blaine just smiled. “Thanks, ma’am. I’m sure it’s great.”
“You do know that Low Country isn’t Louisiana, right Leslie?” Dad asked, taking the seat at the head of the table, opposite Grandpa.
“No, it’s low and swampy in that area,” Leslie said.
Dad shook his head. “No. Low Country is the specific name for South Carolina’s coast.”
Leslie stomped her foot like a child and pouted, swatting Grandpa. “Frank, why didn’t you tell me that?”
Grandpa laughed. “I just wanted to see the look on Blaine’s face when you told him you made him a meal like back home.”
Blaine waved his hands in front of him. “It’s fine. Really. I just appreciate y’all trying to make m
e comfortable.”
Leslie giggled. “You said ‘y’all’! I love it!”
“Leslie, leave the poor boy alone. You’re going to give him some sort of southern complex,” Grandpa said.
“Oh, he knows I’m just teasing! Don’t you Blainey!” Leslie pinched his cheek like an old woman would do.
I felt my own face heating up. This was not how I wanted Blaine to meet my grandparents. Well, Grandpa and his young wife.
“How about we just say grace so the poor boy can eat?” Grandpa asked.
“Sounds good to me,” Dad replied.
“Blaine, why don’t you do the honors of leading us?” Grandpa asked.
“Um, Blaine isn’t catholic,” I blurted.
“Oh.” Grandpa’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’.
“You know what? I’ll do the prayer,” I said, trying to break the tension.
“That sounds wonderful, Libby,” Mom said.
Everyone bowed their heads.
“Bless us, Oh Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. Amen.”
“Amen,” everyone repeated.
Dinner was great, as usual when Henrietta cooked. Usually she cooked all-organic, vegan diets for Leslie and Grandpa, but I guess Christmas and trying to make something southern, was an exception.
There were shrimp and grits, crab cakes, Charleston red rice, mac and cheese, and even upside-down berry cobbler for dessert. It was way better than the white bean pate and garlic mushrooms we had the year before. It wasn’t hard for me to go and purge that dinner.
But this time was different. This time I tried to actually enjoy the food and portion it. I didn’t need to stuff my face to throw it up later, or push it around my plate and hope no one would notice. I still didn’t touch or try to eat every piece. There was still a part of me that couldn’t try the corn dripping with butter, because I knew I would think about it sticking to my thighs, but it was one hell of an improvement from the year before.
After dinner, the girls helped clean up, then we gathered in the living room.
