Now Is Everything

by Amy Giles

“Sure,” she says. I bring her the box with her favorite perfume. It’s our running gag; I’ve kept her in stock every year since I was seven. She laughs as she unwraps it, and immediately takes it out of the box for a quick squirt to her neck. Lila wrinkles her nose and waves her hand in the air.

  Then I give Grandma the box with the peach cashmere scarf I saw hanging on a mannequin. It was something Grandma would never buy for herself, but when I felt how soft it was, I knew I had to get it for her.

  She unwraps it and stares at the contents for a moment before touching it gently. Twisting the fabric around for the tag, she reads the care instructions, then clucks her tongue in disapproval.

  “Cashmere, Hadley? I’m going to have to wash it by hand.”

  “But it will feel so soft around your neck,” I say, wrapping it around her so she can feel it. Her eyes close in contentment.

  “It is soft.” She sighs. “And I do like the color.” Her arms reach up for me, and she squeezes. “It was very thoughtful. Thank you. I hope you didn’t spend a lot.”

  “Of course not,” I lie, because Grandma would be mad at me if I did.

  Lila passes her present across the table. “I bought this at the Holiday Boutique at school,” she boasts.

  Grandma opens it carefully and pulls it out. It’s a ceramic teddy bear holding a plaque that reads “World’s Best Grandma.” Grandma’s eyes get that pink tinge around the edges, and she reaches over and squeezes Lila until she screams, “Grandma! You’re killing me!”

  Then Grandma hands us the presents she bought for us. They’re always a little off. Lila opens hers first, a CD of some band I’ve never heard of before. I don’t have the heart to tell Grandma no one listens to CDs anymore.

  “Who are they?” Lila asks me.

  “They’re handsome, don’t you think?” Grandma points to the four cute guys on the cover. “I like the hat on this one. Men used to always wear hats back in my day.” I shoot Lila a “shut up and say thank you” look.

  I open my present next. There’s a bottle of perfume, the same one I bought her.

  “Since you like mine so much, you should have your own.” She takes the bottle from me, squirting my neck, then gives me a big kiss on the cheek. Lila just about falls out of her seat laughing.

  Lila wipes her eyes. “Now I have to pee!”

  Grandma waves Lila off. “Don’t announce it, dear.” Lila runs down the hallway to the bathroom, laughing the whole way.

  The kettle whistles that it’s ready. Grandma gets up to turn the stove off. When she turns around with the kettle in hand, she freezes. Whatever expression is on my face clearly scares her.

  “Hadley? What’s wrong?”

  What’s the point in telling Grandma about CPS coming to the house to interview my parents? It’ll just upset her. We’ve already done enough to ruin her Christmas. I don’t want to eviscerate it completely.

  “All good, Grandma. I’m just thinking how I’m going to miss you.” I take a bite of a cookie. “Tomorrow.”

  After Grandma’s, I take Lila to the mall with me. It’s a madhouse. Only completely disorganized people do their Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve.

  Disorganized people and Charlie.

  “Hadley!” he calls from across Starbucks. Then he stops to make sure I’m alone.

  I smile and wave him over, watching as he dodges the human traffic that keeps coming in between us.

  “What the heck is that?” Lila points to my face.

  “A smile. Haven’t you ever seen me happy before?”

  “Nobody’s ever seen you that happy before.”

  Charlie comes over and glances at both of us, smiling warily.

  “His smile is almost as weird as yours!” She throws her hands up in the air.

  He grins down at her, and I watch her melt. Charlie just has that effect on the McCauley women, I guess.

  “You must be Lila.”

  “I must be.” She giggles. I’m tempted to embarrass her by saying I’ve never heard that giggle before, but I decide to let her off the hook.

  “What brings you to the mall on Christmas Eve?” I ask.

  He runs his hand through his hair. “Kind of waited till the last minute. As always.”

  I grin. “Well, for the first time ever, I find myself in the same boat as the rest of you slackers.” My hand waves around the throngs of human traffic.

  “Want to shop together?” he asks, again carefully, glancing down at Lila.

  “I would,” I hesitate, “but I have to pick something up for you.”

  The light in his eyes dims for a moment, remembering what happened to his last gift. “You don’t—”

  “Shut up, I do.” I glance down at Lila, who’s watching us like a tennis match. “But you can help me pick out something for Noah and Meaghan. Then we’ll split up.”

  Charlie walks next to us as we follow the flow of people. “Doubt I can help you with Meaghan. Maybe Noah,” he says, glancing at Lila. “So . . . did you mail your list to Santa?”

  Lila and I both laugh at that.

  “Is he for real?” She thumbs over at Charlie.

  We walk into Abercrombie, where I pick the first thing that screams Meaghan’s name at me. She’s a habitual returner anyway; I’ll just have to make sure to get a gift receipt. I find a shirt for Noah, holding it up for Charlie’s approval.

  “I don’t know,” Charlie says, tugging at the front of his hoodie. “In case you can’t tell, I’m really not up on the latest trends.”

  “Hoodies are in,” Lila says earnestly.

  “Yeah?”

  “Totally. You’re good.”

  We walk out of the store, back into the fray.

  “Okay, this is where we go our separate ways,” I say. We both hover, leaning toward each other, then glance over at Lila.

  Lila rolls her eyes at us then shoves her hand out. “Give me a couple of bucks,” she says. “I’m going to get a cookie.” She gives me a knowing look. Charlie fishes in his pocket and hands a few bills to her.

  “My treat. Merry Christmas,” he says, and she grins at him.

  “He’s a keeper,” she says to me, and runs across the floor to the kiosk.

  “And that’s Lila,” Charlie says, laughing as she runs away.

  “That’s Lila.”

  He puts his hands on my waist and turns me toward him.

  “So he got you out of the house for it, huh?” I texted him this morning so he’d know what was going on.

  “Yeah. We haven’t been home yet. My stomach is in knots.” Visions of my father waiting to pounce on me the minute I walk through the door have haunted me all day. If it wasn’t Christmas Eve, I would drop Lila off at a friend’s house.

  “How’s your hip?” He glances down then back up to my face with a worried look.

  “It’s . . . fine,” I say, even though the gauze chafing against my raw hip with every step is a constant reminder of Thursday night.

  He pulls me closer, and then stops and sniffs, his nose wrinkling. “Is that you?”

  “What?” I ask, leaning away in alarm. Does my breath smell? Did I forget to put deodorant on?

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you smell like an old lady.” He grimaces.

  “Oh yeah. Grandma bought me her favorite perfume and nailed me with a squirt.” I laugh. “How do you know what old ladies smell like, anyway?”

  He grins and reels me back in. “Sunday morning at the diner, they take over the place. I can’t even smell the bacon grease over their thick cloud of perfume.”

  He kisses me softly. “So, do you think you’ll be able to come out tonight?”

  “I’m going to try,” I say. “At least to Meaghan’s. I’ll text you when I know.”

  He nods, then rests his forehead against mine.

  “It’ll get better, I promise.” He kisses me again.

  Santa’s loud ho-ho-ho echoes in the mall behind us.

  Like Lila, I stopped believing in Santa years ago, but I g
uess Charlie still believes in Christmas miracles. I wish I could too.

  “We’re back,” Lila announces loudly from the mudroom.

  The house is eerily quiet. Mom sits in the den, her glass of wine in one hand, a magazine in the other.

  “Hi,” I say, glancing around, waiting to hear the rolling thunder of Dad’s footsteps approaching. My stomach clenches with nerves.

  Mom smiles up at us, lopsided. Drunk. “Hi.”

  “Grandma says hi and to give you a kiss.” Lila hops over and kisses Mom on the cheek.

  I don’t smell food cooking.

  “What’s for dinner?” Lila asks.

  She shrugs. “Your father’s out tonight. And I don’t feel like cooking.” A huge wave of relief washes over me. I don’t have to face him tonight.

  “Want to order in pizza?” Lila asks me. If Dad’s out, no one is going to police our carb intake.

  “Whatever you want,” Mom chimes between tightly clenched teeth. She turns the magazine page roughly, tearing the paper.

  I order a pizza, then go upstairs and wrap my presents. By the time I’m done, the doorbell rings. Mom is too far into her wine to care about food, so it’s just Lila and me, eating our illicit carbs quietly at the kitchen table.

  The house feels weird. Nothing looks broken, the furniture doesn’t seem like it was tossed around in a fit of rage. Or if it was, my parents righted it before we came home. But something is still off. It feels like there was a brawl, like something bad happened while Lila and I were gone today.

  My skin crawls like an army of ants is marching across my body. I shake my hands out by my sides trying to rid them of their nervous prickling.

  Anyone could have called CPS. Anyone with eyes. If he asks, I’ll tell him it was probably Couch Kimmel. Or Mr. Murray. I would have to be nuts to call CPS on him myself, right?

  Hopefully, he’ll ask first.

  After we eat, I beckon Lila upstairs so we can talk in peace. “Listen, I’m going out tonight.”

  “To see Charlie?” she asks with a sparkle in her eyes.

  I sit on her bed next to her. “Lila, if I don’t tell you things, it’s not because I don’t want to. I just don’t want you to know in case Dad ever gets in your face about me or where I am. Does that make sense?”

  She bites her lip. “Okay. But if I guess, can you just, like, blink twice so I know if I’m right?”

  I laugh. “No! Now, just stay out of Mom and Dad’s way. Hopefully he’ll be home really late.”

  She grabs a pillow and squeezes it.

  “I can’t believe it’s almost Christmas!” she squeals. “How early can I wake you?” And this is when I remember that Lila is still, in fact, only ten.

  “Not before seven,” I warn her. Even that is way earlier than I want to be up on a day off. But I remember being her age and wanting to tear through everything under that tree as soon as I could.

  On my way out, I walk past my mother, who is now half-asleep on the couch in front of the television, watching a Lifetime movie about a woman scorned. I shake my head. We are a Lifetime movie.

  Charlie’s car is parked on the street in front of Meaghan’s house. On the front lawn, a huge inflatable snow globe with electrically charged swirling snowflakes bobs in the wind, the kind of Christmas decoration that my mom says is garish. I guess everyone in our neighborhood agrees, since I have to drive across town to find one. I can hear Christmas music blasting as I stand on Meaghan’s stoop.

  “About time, bitch!” Meaghan opens the door and drags me into a hug. She teeters on her heels.

  “Been hitting the eggnog already?” I grin, taking off my coat.

  “Hitting it hard!” She laughs, taking my coat and throwing it over the banister. “Come on! The boys are in the den—I’ll get you something to drink.” She darts off to the kitchen, and I head to the den, my bag of gifts in hand.

  Meaghan has a fire going. Charlie’s in short sleeves probably dying of heat stroke. He and Noah are both holding playing cards.

  He looks up at me with a smile, cheeks flushed from the fire. “Apparently for me to be initiated into your club, I have to learn how to play rummy.”

  “Our hazing is really hard-core.” I sit next to him on the couch. Charlie wraps an arm around my shoulder and whispers in my ear. “Any news?”

  I shrug as he leans in for a kiss.

  “Stop that, now.” Noah huffs in mock outrage. “God! There’s no more depressing time of year when you’re single.”

  “Uh . . . what now? Valentine’s Day?” Meaghan reminds him, walking carefully back into the den with two full cups of eggnog in each hand.

  Noah’s eyelashes flutter humbly as he shrugs it off. “Valentine’s Day is so manufactured, it doesn’t bother me nearly as much.”

  I call his bluff with a laugh. “Yeah. And the fact that you get the most roses in the entire school doesn’t hurt.”

  “Don’t be a hater,” he tosses back with a smug, crooked smile. “The people love me.”

  “Well, anyway, you’re single by choice ever since you and Matt broke up. You’re too picky,” I say, taking a cup of eggnog from Meaghan.

  Noah shuffles the cards in his hands. “I’m not picky. She’s picky.” Meaghan curtsies on cue. “I just have a smaller pool to choose from.” Noah puts down three cards, then discards. “And you broke the cardinal rule: never mention his name in front of me again.”

  Meaghan sits on the carpet in her short skirt, with her legs folded demurely to her side.

  I wince. “Sorry.”

  Noah shrugs a shoulder. “Anyway, I guess I have you two to thank for finally coming to my senses.” He glances between Charlie and me. “I want what you guys have.”

  I lift my cup and toast Noah. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he says. “Now give me my goddamn presents.”

  We scatter around and gather our shopping bags and then come back. Charlie sits on the couch, not moving, and I panic. I know Noah and Meaghan got him presents because they told me. But I thought Charlie figured it out when Meaghan invited him to exchange presents. I know he doesn’t have the extra money to buy us stuff, and no one expects anything. I just don’t want him to be embarrassed.

  “Okay, first rule,” Noah says, pulling out his presents. “You two cannot exchange sappy gifts in front of us. I forbid it.” He points between Charlie and me.

  Charlie holds my hand and squeezes it. “Deal.”

  “Good,” Noah says, then hands us all presents. “Charlie, open yours first,” he says, with an excited gleam in his eyes.

  “Okay.” Charlie glances up at Noah. “It’s heavy.” He pulls back the gift wrapping. “Oh . . . wow. Thank you.” He lifts it to show us The Art of Pixar.

  Noah smiles, pleased with himself. “I figure you’re always doodling.”

  Noah hands Meaghan an envelope next. She opens it and waves it around with a scowl. “Really? A gift card? You put more thought into Charlie’s gift.”

  Noah narrows his eyes at her and shakes his head. “You know you were just going to return anything I bought you. I just saved you a step.”

  She tilts her head and concedes. “Guess you’re right.”

  Noah ceremoniously presents me with a thin gift-wrapped square. “Bust out the Kleenex.”

  I pull back the wrapping paper. It’s a Shutterfly photo album.

  “Oh,” I say. Then I see. Really see. I flip through the pages, filled chronologically with pictures of Meaghan, Noah, and me over the years. At field day, birthday parties, school plays, dances, decorating the homecoming float, at Relay for Life. Noah was merciless, capturing all our dorky moments, his gangly praying mantis phase in sixth grade, Meaghan’s pink-and-mint-green-braces fiasco, my huge forehead cyst that had Claudia calling me Cyclops all of seventh grade. The last page has a picture of all four of us, a selfie Noah made us take in the hallway at school a couple of weeks ago.

  “I had to get one of Charlie in there too.” He leans over Charlie to
point to it. “He’s new to the group, but I don’t see him going anywhere anytime soon.”

  My throat tightens. “I love it,” I croak, trying not to cry.

  Noah leans back in his seat and takes a sip of his eggnog. He peers at me from over the rim, a “pay attention to what I have to say” look. “I want you to know we always have your back.”

  Our eyes lock, and in that moment, I feel—I know—that Noah knows more about my life than he’s ever let on.

  “Well, now, everything I got you guys is totally going to suck in comparison,” Meaghan complains, standing up.

  We open the rest of our presents. Meaghan, as predicted, opens mine and gives me her tight, wide-eyed smile. “Wow!” She tries, and fails, to muster enthusiasm for the shirt she holds up for everyone to see.

  I groan. “The gift receipt is in the box.”

  She sighs in relief. “I love you.”

  Charlie holds his loot in his lap, the book from Noah and the plaid wool scarf from Meaghan that he’ll never wear because he’s never cold. When everyone else is done, he stands up and pulls an envelope from his back pocket.

  “So, it’s kind of a long way off, but I thought it would be fun for all of us to go to the Taconic Music Festival this summer. I got us tickets.” He places the envelope on the coffee table.

  Noah and Meaghan lunge for the tickets at the same time.

  “It’s general admission, rain or shine . . . so we’ll be in a field, and it could get muddy, but still,” he adds, as if to manage their expectations.

  I turn to Charlie and squeeze his hand. “Nice.”

  Probably what makes me the happiest about his gift is that he plans on sticking around for a while.

  “Don’t goooo!” Meaghan says, completely tanked, looping her arms around my neck and dangling like a monkey off a tree.

  Noah peels her away. “I got this,” he says, waving me out the door.

  “Make sure she doesn’t fall asleep on her back,” I remind him, walking backward. “Maybe I should stay?”

  Noah rolls his eyes. “I am perfectly capable of putting a child-size drunk to bed.” He laughs at that. “Yep, I heard it as soon as it came out of my mouth. So wrong. Just go be horny teenagers. It’ll warm my heart.” He places a hand over his chest then slams the door in our faces.