Analog to Digital

by Posy Roberts

  Everyone stared at me. I didn’t lose my cool often, but when I did, it was usually just like that: loud, short, and to the point.

  “Should we dish up?” Toby asked, clearly reading that I didn’t want all eyes on me right then.

  “Yes,” Mom said, urging Toby to start. I spooned fried rice and General Tso’s chicken on my plate in silence as Mom chattered on about more wedding plans than I ever cared to hear about, even if they would’ve been for my own wedding.

  I sat and ate, trying to join in the conversation, but the five of them had been working on putting together candleholders and whatever else while I’d been at home either working or making lefse that never needed to be made. So I didn’t find my in. They clearly had issues to work through, so I allowed the conversation to wash over me.

  But the dogs kept coming back into the room, clicking about and going out of their way to be noticed. I tried to make nice with Blue, Bailey, and Beck, talking to each of them, but I ended up messing up their names, which brought with it chiding from my sister, just like old times. “They’re all different colors. It’s not that hard.”

  That put me on edge just like old times too.

  In the end, I inadvertently called Blake by the name of each of his dogs at least once, and Gigi insisted I was doing it to be mean. Right. How about naming your dogs something that doesn’t sound like your husband’s name instead? Oh and maybe using another letter besides a B? So to say I was having a bad night… yeah. I was.

  And to make matters worse, Toby laughed with my family as if he was the son, not the boyfriend, all while I sat in the background and watched. It was nice to see he was fully accepted into the ranks, but it was weird. My sister and parents hadn’t ever been that warm with any of my past boyfriends or with Toby, for that matter. So why now? What changed all of a sudden?

  After we retreated to our bedroom, I yelled at Toby as best I could in whisper-shouts. “Where have you been? Where do you go during the day? You just disappear without a trace.”

  “We were lots of places. I don’t know the city well enough to know where except for when we were downtown. I was just helping your sister and Blake get ready for the ceremony, going where I was asked and doing the grunt work since heavy lifting is in my DNA. And we’ve all been trying to give you peace and quiet so you can finish up your final projects before Christmas Eve, if possible. I thought I was doing you a favor by getting out of your hair.”

  “I want you in my hair, never out of it.”

  He tangled his fingers through my curls and tugged me into a kiss. When I pulled him down on the bed with me, he only stayed for a minute.

  “I promised I’d help deliver that beam tonight so it’s there for tomorrow,” he said, looking apologetic as he found his feet again.

  “I want you here. With me.”

  “I’ll hold you all night, but I have to do this first.”

  I allowed my arms to flop to the bedspread and let him go. After all, I’d lost an entire afternoon making lefse rather than finishing up my last-minute work.

  I THOUGHT for sure I’d wake up Christmas Eve morning with Toby’s lips wrapped around my dick. I was so in the mood to suck him down and lick him open, turn him into an unhinged mess of desire so he took everything he needed from me without holding back. It was one of our traditions, after all.

  But no.

  Instead I woke up to utter quietude. Again.

  I didn’t bother showering, only tugged on a warm hoodie before I made my way downstairs to the coffeemaker. It was filled to the brim and piping hot, just like every other morning, but I’d never felt colder than I did right then. I knew there was no point checking each of the rooms in the house because they were obviously empty.

  Now I stood looking out the wall of windows in the sunroom. The sunlight sparkled on the snow, making it look like blue glass decorated with rainbow prisms. I sipped my coffee and wondered why Toby had been so insistent on this trip when we weren’t spending any of it together. The entire time he talked about this trip, from breaking the news of the tickets to the conversations we had on the plane, everything had been phrased in “we” statements. Not “I” statements. Yet I was the only one here.

  I sighed and my breath fogged up the window, so I breathed on it again until all the small panes of glass near me obscured my view outside. I wondered if the moisture would freeze, or would the dry warmth of the room burn it away first?

  Staring down into my coffee mug, I could see my lower lip sticking out. I was pouting again, acting like a kid.

  Rather than fight it, I allowed myself to wallow. I was a mature adult in every other instance of my life, leading a design team that created multimillion-dollar projects. I owned a car, a house, had checking and saving accounts, a diversified stock portfolio, a decent start on a 401(k) compared to other twenty-six-year-olds I knew, and I paid my bills on time. Every month. Not to mention my credit rating, which some banker had told me was “unbelievable” for someone so young.

  But I’d give it all up to have him. To somehow tie myself to him, to devote the rest of my life making him happy and creating the kind of life we wanted to share. To build joy together. Bliss.

  It seemed too late for that now.

  I FINISHED every last bit of work I had and contemplated all the “you work too hard” conversations Toby and I’d had over the years. He worked just as hard but could also leave his work behind. He couldn’t exactly pack his shop in a laptop bag, sling it over his shoulder, and go. Not like I could. And when he left work at the shop, he left it, unlike me. I carried it everywhere. In my phone, my computer, my tension, and my mind.

  So maybe I’d brought this on myself, by essentially pushing Toby away with my overly dedicated work ethic.

  Now that all my projects were completed and handed off to Stella, the next person in line, I had nothing to distract myself from my desire to be with Toby.

  Toby’s words “I thought I was doing you a favor by getting out of your hair” felt like an excuse in the harsh midday light. I saw in his always-honest eyes that he was lying to me last night. That’s not at all why he was spending time away. But I didn’t know what I’d done to push him so far that he was pulling the disappearing act on me. And lying about it.

  I wanted to pack my bags, call a cab to take me to the airport, and fly home, where I knew I’d be alone, where I knew what to expect. Not like this limbo I was in. I’d happily deal with the crowds of Christmas Eve travelers if it didn’t mean I had to feel so displaced in my own childhood home, by the man that I loved, and from the family I’d come home to spend time with.

  But tonight was the vow renewal, which still seemed selfish to me, no matter how many ways Toby or I had justified it. Christmas Eve was the night the Heims traditionally opened gifts here at home. The ritual of having two Christmases had been so precious to me, I’d carried it on with Toby back in California, even if he thought I was crazy.

  Now I didn’t want gifts. I didn’t want to celebrate Christmas or my sister’s marriage or anything.

  All I wanted was to go back to bed.

  So I was the Grinch. And yes, I wanted to steal Christmas, but my damn sister and Blake had already done that.

  I STOOD at my sister’s side while she and Blake renewed their vows. Beside Blake stood Toby, whose suit looked too big on him. He looked drawn, as if he’d lost weight. How had I missed that? And why? He’d been eating more than usual.

  Gigi and Blake said their vows under a sky of gauzy draped fabric filled with fairy lights, planned this time, not off the cuff. I preferred their original ones where they vowed to have sex with each other even if they hadn’t showered or brushed their teeth and always have a few sips of coffee together each morning.

  I missed coffee time with Toby the most.

  My attention wandered from the words and around the yesteryear atrium, over the exposed brick and the fountains cascading over glass, to the hundred-year-old streetlamps and the painted logo that read Lumber Exchan
ge 1885.

  This was never going to happen for me if I stayed with Toby.

  The painted letters and numbers on the brick smeared before my eyes.

  I’d been pretending since before Toby and I moved in together that this wasn’t something for me. Years ago, I’d overheard him telling his just-married best friend that he’d never marry, no matter how much he loved someone. To not risk the greatness we already had together, I’d kept up the charade that I didn’t want that either, but now that it was staring me in the face, I knew it was the worst lie I’d ever told myself. I wanted the… security of knowing I couldn’t walk home one day to find Toby had moved out… or wake up to an empty bed, wondering where he’d gone as I had every morning so far on this trip.

  Gigi nudged me, and I realized the officiant had asked for the rings. She handed me her tissue, but I rebuffed her. Instead, I fumbled in my pocket a few times before finally getting a good grip on the cool metal bands. Again.

  For the second time, I was witnessing these two formally declaring what would never be mine: love and commitment and devotion and security until the end of days.

  The rest of the ceremony sped by, the reception got under way, and before the first course was served, I’d already downed three glasses of wine. Considering I hadn’t eaten anything all day… suffice it to say, I was drunk.

  Toby got me back to my parents’ home and upstairs to our bedroom, somehow, and got me undressed and in bed. I don’t remember much. I only hoped I didn’t make too much of a fool of myself or ruin my sister’s day.

  Her second day.

  I woke the next morning very hungover… because, red wine! I didn’t even bother to see if Toby was beside me and instead rolled over and went back to sleep.

  When I woke again, it was well past noon, and only then did I realize I’d missed Christmas Morning. Guess I really did steal Christmas with my shitty mood.

  Toby eyed me warily when I finally emerged from the cocoon of sheets and blankets and joined the land of the living downstairs. He looked beautiful standing in the kitchen by the coffeemaker, pouring me a mug, just the way I liked it. Without a word he slid it across the countertop, along with two ibuprofen, and I noticed his dark hair was windswept. A few snowflakes were just melting in it.

  “Did you shovel?” I asked.

  “No. I was… out with your mom. She needed help hauling something.”

  “Oh.” More secret missions. I took a steadying breath and gave him what I knew was nothing more than a pathetic smile. “I need to get back home. I have more work that came in.” It was a lie, but I didn’t bother crossing anything to negate it. I also didn’t want to get into how I was truly feeling at my parents’ house. We could break up back in our own house, where Mom and Dad didn’t have to be witness to me acting hurt and rejected. That way they also couldn’t tell me I was throwing away the best thing that had ever happened to me and that I should be happy with what I’ve got. But no, I wanted more and from a man who refused anything more. “I’m going to call the airline and see if I can change my return flight for today.”

  “You can’t. What about Christmas? We were waiting for you to get up so we could open presents. And you promised you’d take me to the Mall of America.”

  “I did no such thing. You couldn’t pay me enough money to take you anywhere near that mall during the holidays, so you must be thinking of someone else’s words.”

  “No. Last night in bed you said we’d go the day after Christmas.”

  “Bullshit. I was drunk. You can’t hold me to promises I make when I’m drunk.”

  Toby grinned and stepped in close, lifting my chin and leaning in for a kiss. I kept it tame, refusing to open to him, despite how insistent he was with licking the seam of my lips.

  I took a step back. “Let’s get Christmas done.”

  He studied me the way he does when he’s trying to figure out what I’m not saying, so I walked into the sunroom, no longer willing to look into his too-honest eyes.

  Cheesy Christmas music was playing on my parents’ inherited stereo system that had been around since I was a toddler, and I knew it was a record because of the hisses and pops coming out of the speakers.

  My parents greeted me with a smile, as did Gigi and Blake. Thankfully, the house was triple B’s free.

  “Quiche Florentine,” Mom said as she passed me a plate, fork, and cloth napkin.

  “Thank you.” I knew I was subdued. The way everyone looked at me, as if waiting for the snarky comment or joke to come, told me to lighten up. “Hungover,” I said as my excuse. I palmed my head to dramatize the symptoms.

  “Yeah,” Gigi said through a snort. “You were wasted, but it was fun seeing your bizarre dance moves.”

  I groaned and everyone laughed, making my head feel like Animal was playing a drum solo in there.

  Toby sat beside me on the love seat and pressed a kiss to my temple. “Your dancing wasn’t that bad.”

  “None of my moves are nearly as bad or as bizarre as your dancing,” I said back, clearly not in top form, as that was the best I could give.

  In a stupor I watched my family exchange gifts. There were socks, books, and sampler bags of gourmet popcorn. Nothing huge, since we were flying home and had to bring gifts in our one suitcase.

  When Toby started to tear the paper on his gift from me, my stomach tightened. I didn’t know if I was going to be sick or if it was nerves. Probably nerves because the gift was… significant, which was why it had been hidden away in my coat pocket this entire time. So I took deep breaths I tried to disguise behind my fist.

  He cracked the hinged lid of the box and froze. “My God.” He nearly fingered the delicate filigree around the outside of the silver pocket watch but stopped himself just before he made contact. “Seventeenth century?”

  “Late eighteenth. And it works.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Toby was in awe as he took in all the details of the tiny watch as best he could without touching it. He was always so aware of mishandling old things and possibly damaging them, so I’d tucked a thin pair of jeweler’s gloves into the top of the hinged box so he could get his hands on it. I passed them to him now, and he put them on.

  “I bought it for you to use, not to put it on a shelf or in a drawer somewhere.” And because I want more time with you than I’ll ever be granted.

  “It’s exquisite,” he said as he held it up and allowed the light in the room to catch on the engraving. Everyone else gathered around. Suddenly I wanted to escape.

  This gift was my way of telling him how precious he was to me, how invaluable, how I cherished every second with him. But he wouldn’t ever know what that felt like in his bare hands because he was always so cautious.

  I blinked back tears and pushed away those overly sentimental thoughts that had somehow surfaced during this trip. This was stupid. I loved Toby. He loved me. We had made a good life together that I was happy with until the last few days.

  Enough. Get over yourself.

  “I don’t think my gift comes close,” Toby said as he handed over a large, flat box.

  I tore off the wrapping and lifted the lid. After folding tissue paper away, the stupid tears were back. Inside were my favorite art supplies: the type of journal I first used when I discovered my love of drawing, colored pencils, markers, pens, and a few sketching pencils. It was perfect for me. Most of my current work was done digitally, and I missed “getting my fingers dirty” with my old tools.

  “Thank you.” I managed to keep my emotions from bleeding through my voice. “And for bringing me home.”

  He nodded. “I figured you should have something here since you didn’t bring anything along besides your computer.”

  I tried to smile and focused my attention on my sister, who was opening a gift from Blake.

  I burped, sour from last night’s wine and this morning’s coffee, and Toby asked, “Are you feeling okay?”

  “No,” I admitted with a shake of my head.

  �
��Go upstairs and lie down. I think Gigi and Blake are about to start opening wedding presents anyway.”

  I glanced over and saw silver-and-white-wrapped gifts piled behind them and knew I’d never make it through that, so I made my excuses and took the steps up slower than I ever had in my life.

  “THIS IS the last place I want to be,” I said between gritted teeth as I drove around the parking ramp, hoping I’d find a spot without having to trek all the way up and back down again. I’d told him I’d do anything he wanted while in Minneapolis. I was expecting to pick cobwebs out of my hair and possibly rush to the emergency room for a tetanus shot after a rusty nail pierced my foot, but I never expected this.

  “They’re pulling out.” Toby pointed and wiggled his finger, as if I hadn’t noticed the Hummer’s reverse lights.

  “You realize this place is going to be a zoo. And I mean Comic-Con packed.”

  “You keep saying that, but I doubt it’ll be that bad. I just wanna go once to say I’ve been here, and then we never have to come back ever again. Besides, I’m surprised you’re so antimall, considering how much you love to shop.”

  Despite my internal smile at his excitement, I rolled my eyes and parked before saying, “I’m not antimall. I’m anti-Mall of America, just like I’m antiamusement park. You do realize there’s an amusement park inside the middle of this place, right?”

  “Yes, I do, and we don’t have to go to that part.”

  “Well, what are we here for, then? What are the must-dos?”

  “The LEGO Store for you, American Girl for me because of miniature things,” he singsonged. “The aquarium, A.C.E.S. because, hello, flight simulator, and maybe the zip line.”

  “The zip line is in the amusement park.”

  “You can watch from the second or third floor, then. I promise, if you don’t want to go down in that part, you won’t have to. I know you well enough to avoid that.”