by Bonnie Dee
Anna sat cross-legged on the garage floor, holding Baby’s front paws and looking into her face. “Poor girl. You have to go in your crate for a while, but we aren’t going to leave you here. We’ll be right inside.” Anna looked up at me. “I feel so bad. She’s not going to know we’re not leaving her forever.”
“It would be the same if she was boarded at Happytails. She’ll be okay.”
I leaned against the wall, because the thought of sitting cross-legged was impossible right then. The garage was quiet. From inside the house came muffled voices and the soft strains of Christmas music. The holiday was starting to smother me in syrupy sweetness.
Anna got up and put Baby in her crate. Immediately, the dog began to whine.
“Those kids better not come out here and mess with her,” she said. “They asked me about ten times already if they could play with the dog. I told them she has to rest first, but they seem like spoiled brats who are used to having their way.”
“I can see you like children,” I said dryly.
“Some are okay. This pair seem like assholes.”
“A merry Christmas to you too.”
I laughed and held out my hand. Anna took it, and we went inside, leaving Baby to wail over our abandonment.
Anna
By the time dinner was ready, I was too filled up on the hors d’oeuvres Mom had set out and bleary-eyed with exhaustion from the long drive, not to mention the martinis my dad had fixed for me.
My mother had organized the meal ahead of time and insisted there was nothing for me or Chloe to do, so I sat on the sofa beside Jason in front of a crackling fire and listened while Chloe filled us in on her family. I learned more about her boys’ schools and soccer teams than I cared to. The various illnesses or accomplishments of this aunt or that cousin were explained in great detail. I nodded periodically, happy to give the floor to Chloe since I was so wiped.
But there was still a meal to get through. I dragged myself reluctantly from the couch to the dining room. Crystal stemware and the best china seemed a pretty bad call on Mom’s part, considering the little boys’ destructive ways. Since I’d arrived, they’d broken their spaceship toy and one of Mom’s vases. Then I noticed she’d set two places with plastic Toy Story plates from my childhood. The sight of those cartoon faces, well marked by the scrapes of forks and spoons, made me smile.
I took my place between Jason and my dad while everyone complimented Mom on the meal, which smelled heavenly.
“Retirement’s been a little dull, so I’ve been taking cooking classes among other things.”
I’d never considered how a workaholic like my mother might cope with retirement. Shame filled me that I’d rarely talked to her about what was new in her life. “What else are you doing?”
“Pottery and painting, a creative writing class I didn’t care much for, and tennis. Zumba on Wednesdays and, of course, sometimes I golf with your father.”
“I had no idea you had so many interests.”
“Well…”
For a moment, I was sure she would add, You never asked.
“When you’ve worked as many hours a week as I have and suddenly find yourself at loose ends, you need to find something to fill the time.”
“Since my mom and dad moved to Florida, they’re busier than ever,” Chloe said. “With all their clubs and boards and recreational activities, they hardly have time to come visit their grandchildren. Tomorrow will be the first time we’ve seen them in three months!”
The conversation moved on, and I zoned out a little. That second martini really had me blurring around the edges. I ate a few bites of the delicious beef bordelaise and wondered, if I ever had children, how often my parents would come to Columbus to visit them.
“What about you, Jason?” My mom’s voice snapped me back to the present. “I believe Anna mentioned you’re working at a kennel now?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jason didn’t elaborate. I noted the way his hand clenched his fork and the unfocused look in his eyes. He was really tired, too tired to have to work at dinner conversation.
“Do you have any plans for the future?” My mom cocked her head, a subtle gesture I recognized all too well. She used to assume that posture before grilling me about a topic. One time, I’d watched her in court, and she’d done the same thing to a witness.
“Jason’s taking a business class,” I answered quickly. “He’d like to open his own boarding kennel someday.”
“Do you have a time frame for that?” She stared at Jason.
“I’ve only just started the class. I don’t have much money saved, and I’m not ready to take out a big loan, even if I could get one. It’s just a dream right now.” Jason shot a glance at me. Annoyance showed in his tightly pressed lips. He wasn’t happy I’d outed his personal fantasy.
“Dreams don’t come to fruition without some solid preparation. It’s never too early to make a plan,” Mom pointed out. “If you’re going to get ahead, you need to organize yourself.”
Irritation swelled from a mild itch to a poison ivy rash inside me. “You see, Jason, the only proper way to get through life is to map out every move, every detail of every day. Goals and planning make the world go round,” I explained.
A slight frown perched between my mother’s perfectly manicured eyebrows. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with having some organization in your life. If more people in our society bothered to plan ahead, the country wouldn’t be in the mess it is today.”
“That includes the government,” my dad chimed in helpfully. “Nobody in either party has a clue where they’re going from one minute to the next.”
I didn’t really disagree, but I also didn’t like the way a discussion about Jason’s vague future plans had evolved into some sort of statement. As if my parents believed he was infected with a slacker mentality inherent in my generation.
“Jason is happy in his job. If he chooses to keep on working at Happytails and never becomes an entrepreneur, it’s his choice.” I heard myself speaking too loudly, a little drunkenly, but it was too late to tone it down.
“Besides, somebody has to shovel the shit.” Jason smiled, clearly trying to ease the tension, but he didn’t realize my mom wasn’t laid-back like his parents. She absolutely detested coarse language.
Her face froze, and abrupt silence filled the room.
Until now, Gulliver and Haynes had been in their own little world at one end of the table, talking nonsense to each other and occasionally being shushed by their dad. But now Haynes erupted. “Aw, he said a bad word!”
“He said shit,” Gulliver announced in case we’d missed it. “Mrs. Labadie says that’s cursing. Brenda got in trouble when she said it at school.”
“It’s not a polite word, but Jason wasn’t cursing,” Chloe said. “Eat some of your vegetables and stop worrying about what grown-ups say.”
She changed the subject, launching into a long ramble about a Costco that was opening up near her neighborhood. In that moment, I loved my cousin just a little.
We got through the rest of the meal with stilted politeness. Afterward, Jason took Baby for a walk while I helped clean up the kitchen. With Chloe there, my mom and I kept our talk all surface.
It was weird how little Mom had said on the subject of Jason moving in since I’d first told her about it. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Considering the things she’d said to me after first meeting Jason, there was no way she’d continue to let our relationship exist without comment, but for now, she kept her opinions to herself.
Another couple of hours coasted by on talk of relatives and past Christmases. By that point, even Chloe had run out of things to say, and we all retired early.
As soon as Jason and I entered the bedroom, he collapsed facedown across the bed. I followed his example, sprawling beside him and looking around the room I’d lived in for more than half of my life. A new paint job, carpet, curtains, and bedding had erased all traces of my teenage years. But the bed itself
was the same. I curved a hand around one post, feeling the familiar smoothness and bumps of the carved wood.
Jason turned his head to face me. “You don’t have to speak for me when we’re with your parents. If they ask me a question, I can answer for myself.”
“I’m sorry.” I didn’t point out that his comment about shoveling shit hadn’t really gone down that well with my mom. “It’s hard for me to bite my tongue around them. Around her. ”
“Maybe you need to stop feeling like you have to prove something to them.”
“I know.”
We lay facing each other with our cheeks pressed against the bumpy quilt. Snow pelted the windowpane, leaving a skim of white on the glass. It was good to rest there in silence.
After a while, we chatted about inconsequential things—amusing Baby incidents, the office Christmas party, our families’ Christmas traditions. What we didn’t mention was Jason’s proposal. I had a right to ask for time to consider, but once an offer like that is made, it whispers underneath every other conversation.
“Guess we should go to bed,” Jason said after a while.
I was too comfortable to move, every limb boneless and my head still slushy from the martinis. I reached out to brush back a lock of his dark hair from his eyes. “Thanks for coming here with me.”
“No place I’d rather be for the holidays.” He gave me one of those quirky lopsided smiles I’d come to love so much.
Emotion rushed through me, shaking me like the wind rattling the bare branches outside the window. “I love you,” I whispered.
“Love you too.” He slid closer and kissed me, a soft brush of the lips that unfurled a deep, burning heat. I curled a hand around the back of his neck and kissed him harder, deeper. I pressed my body full length against his, suddenly so full of desire I wanted to have him right then.
But Jason gently disengaged from my fierce embrace. “Not here. It feels weird in your parents’ house. And your cousins are right next door.”
The hum of Chloe’s and Worthy’s voices came through the wall. Of course he was right. I wasn’t used to Jason being the sensible one.
I got up to change out of my clothes, then slid into bed and Jason’s arms for a good snuggle. I was so warm and happy and filled with the joyful spirit of Christmas that I nearly wanted to accept his proposal, tell him I would love him forever, and commit to the future.
Instead, I drifted into sleep, and the possible moment of spontaneity passed.
Chapter Five
Jason
Shouting voices and running feet pounded through my sleep, dragging me into a new morning filled with harsh white light. I was alone in bed. Anna’s side was cold beneath my palm. She’d been up for a while.
I got up to look out the window. Overnight the yard had been transformed. The sun reflected off diamond-studded snow, making me squint. I felt the low-grade buzz of excitement that comes with a fresh snowfall, probably a throwback to the childhood hope for a day off from school. I wanted to run outside and roll in it, find a sled and whoosh down a hill.
Below, Anna and Baby came into view. Anna threw a ball, and the terrier bounded through the snow after it, burrowing through a drift and coming up with a white muzzle and the ball clenched in her teeth. Anna reached to take the ball, but Baby sped away. Anna laughed. I could almost hear the sound from this distance, not through the pane of glass but in my mind.
Her cheeks were pink with cold. She wore a bright red parka with a hood that framed her face in fur. The puffy coat made her look small, childlike. The simple pleasure of playing with Baby had put a smile on her face. No more tension or worry. I loved to see her happy like that.
She glanced up at the window and waved at me, then beckoned me to come down. I hurried to get cleaned up and dressed. It was so far past breakfast, there was no way I was going to ask for anything, even though I was starving. Dressed in my boots and coat, I went outside into the crunchy snow.
The little boys with the weird names were throwing the ball for Baby. When they saw me, they stopped to scoop up snowballs. The little one with the name that sounded like underwear planted one square in the center of my chest.
I pretended to stagger backward as if shot, and called, “Good aim!”
I packed a snowball lightly and tossed it without much force at the nearest kid. Soon wads of snow flew back and forth. Anna joined in, backing me up. The boys shrieked and laughed and dodged around trees and behind bushes. Baby was crazy with excitement, barking and racing after them.
But, as they say, it’s all fun and games until somebody pokes an eye out. Our battle lasted maybe two minutes before the older boy hurled a snowball as hard as he could, Anna ducked, and it nailed the little one in the face. Haynes wailed as if he’d been hit by a two-by-four and collapsed on the ground. Baby ran over to sniff at him.
I fished the kid out of a drift and peeled away mittened hands in order to check out the damage. His face was bright red, but nothing was bleeding. “You’ll be okay. Fighters get hit sometimes, and they have to shake it off. You ever watch wrestling?”
He nodded, scrubbing the tears from his eyes.
“Who’s your favorite?”
“The Tower of Terror.” His little voice was wobbly, but he’d stopped crying.
Anna joined us and squatted beside me. “Everything okay?”
“Sure. Haynes is a real trouper.” I helped him to his feet.
The older boy was skulking nearby, breaking the ice in a bird bath and pretending he hadn’t had anything to do with the incident.
“Hey, Gully,” Anna called, “why don’t you come over and tell your brother you’re sorry.”
He crunched another shard of ice. “It was an accident. I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Nobody said you did, but it’s polite to say you’re sorry.” When he continued to sullenly scowl, she said warningly, “Gulliver…”
“Sorry,” he muttered.
The front door opened, and Cousin Chloe stepped outside. “What happened?” she called. “Is everything okay?”
Anna rose and yelled back, “It’s all right. Haynes got hit in the face with a snowball, but he’s okay.”
Chloe nodded. “Thanks for playing with them, getting some of their energy out. But, boys, you need to come in now. We’re going to meet Grandma and Grandpa for lunch.”
“I don’t wanna. We’re having fun,” Gulliver whined.
“Yeah.” Haynes backed him up.
“We’re going to Holiday Wonderland and see Santa,” their mom coaxed.
Both boys evaporated like smoke, racing away and kicking up a powder of snow in their wake. I grabbed Baby’s trailing leash before she could run into the house along with them. She reached the end and jerked to a stop.
I nudged Anna with an elbow. “Santa. You want to go sit on the big man’s lap too?”
She punched me in the arm. “Don’t make dirty jokes. Santa’s sacred.”
“I didn’t say anything. It’s just your filthy mind.” I scooped up some snow and threw it at her.
She retaliated, and we were off again, running and playing like kids.
Anna tackled me to the ground and scrubbed a handful of snow into my face.
I flipped her onto her back and pinned her. “Say uncle. No. Say ‘Santa’s my daddy.’”
She squirmed and fought and laughed until she was breathless, but finally gasped out a weak, “Uncle! You perv.”
Satisfied, I grinned and let her up. Her hood had fallen back, and her hair was matted with snow. She brushed it with her fingers while I lay beside her, making a snow angel.
“Your angel looks like a devil,” Anna said.
I sat up and looked, and sure enough, there were two lumpy spots like horns on my angel’s head.
“So, what’s on for today?” I asked.
“The cousins are spending the day with Aunt Patty and Uncle Jack, who just got into town. Then they’ll all come here for Christmas Eve dinner. This afternoon, it’s just y
ou and me and my parents. Maybe we can watch a movie to fill the time.”
“Sounds good. Hey, you were good with the kid,” I said. “Got him to man up and apologize without making a big thing of it.”
I thought how like a mother she’d sounded when she’d made Gulliver’s name a warning. Did Anna even want to have kids? Did I? Would I make a good dad?
Anna clapped her gloves together to break up the clots of snow. “And you got Haynes calmed down right away, distracting him like that. You seem to like kids.”
“Sure. Why not? They’re fun.”
I figured both of us were thinking of our possible future. If we stayed together… If we got married… If we had kids… What would that be like?
But neither of us was ready to dive into any of those heavy topics right then, and besides, Baby was about to escape. I’d let go of her leash while we were goofing around. Now she was exploring at the far edge of the yard, sniffing some interesting scent underneath a bush.
I climbed to my feet and winced. My body ached from too much running and rolling in snowdrifts. I called Baby, and she came, for a change. She was getting better at obeying.
In the garage, we took off our snowy things and put the sad dog in her crate. She whimpered pitifully.
“Only a couple more days,” Anna promised Baby, and maybe me too, because she squeezed my hand when she said it.
Or maybe she was reminding herself. She seemed to be having more trouble with this visit than I was. So far, her parents and cousins had been polite enough and the food was good. There were worse things than spending the holidays with relatives.
Anna
After we came in from playing in the snow, we went up to our room to change. While Jason was taking a shower, I finally had the opportunity to look at the engagement ring. A silver band with a tiny diamond in the center, flanked by two sapphire chips, it was exactly the sort of unpretentious, delicate, rather old-fashioned design I would’ve chosen.
Jason might not have consciously picked something that so exactly suited me. Perhaps it was the only ring he could afford, given his minimum-wage job. But as I slipped the ring on my finger, I felt as if he had a real sense of my taste, my personality, who I was as a person. Of course, I already knew this about him. He got me in a way no one else did.
