The Holiday

by Jane Green

  My dad wheeled in, grinning, but his smile froze when he saw me. I didn’t have to ask who he’d been expecting. ‘Holly! For some reason, I thought your mother said Maddie was here.’

  I gave him a brief hug, feeling the usual sting of being second best. (Okay, third best.) ‘Disappointed?’

  He laughed a little too jovially. ‘No, no –’

  ‘Laird, this is Jason,’ Mom said, steering him away from me.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ Dad said.

  ‘Holly tells me you teach history,’ Jason said.

  Mom and I both jumped on that statement, which most of the time my father mistook as an invitation to deliver an impromptu lecture. ‘Now, no work talk!’ Mom singsonged, no doubt still thinking about Oliver Cromwell and the unfortunate Finleys he’d buttonholed at the party. She opened the fridge but didn’t comment on the fact that elves had restocked her dwindling supplies. ‘Oh, look! Eggnog!’ She pulled out the carton we had bought and poured herself a glass. ‘I love this stuff. Ted used to make it fresh, remember?’

  She acted as if this were decades ago.

  ‘Speaking of Ted …’

  ‘Have you seen him?’ she asked.

  ‘He answered the door.’ I couldn’t help adding, ‘Since no one else was here …’

  ‘Oh, good! So he’s okay.’

  Okay? My brother looked like suicide hotline material. ‘I’m worried. He’s locked himself in his room.’

  Mom’s brows knit together. ‘There’s nothing too dangerous in there, except maybe his old chemistry set … and I imagine all the chemicals in that are expired. We gave away his BB gun when Amanda came along.’

  It was all I could do not to clutch my head and let out a primal howl. ‘Mom, your son is doing a reenactment of The Lost Weekend.’

  She shook her head at me. ‘Just try to have a little understanding, Holly. Ted’s having a rough time.’

  ‘I know, but …’ I didn’t know what more to say, or whether I should say more while Jason was standing there. ‘When’s Maddie coming home?’ Since everyone else had completely flaked out, I suddenly craved seeing my sister. I wondered what she would make of what was going on with Ted, and my parents. And what was up with the artificial tree, and the absence of Christmas collectibles? This was my mom’s first ever half-baked holiday.

  And naturally, it would have to be the year I brought home Jason.

  Jason, whom Mom didn’t even seem to be appreciating. She had barely looked at him! Hadn’t she noticed how good-looking he was? How perfect in every way?

  Mom lifted her shoulders in answer to my question about Maddie. ‘I’m not sure …’

  ‘You’re sure she is coming, right?’

  Mom laughed. ‘Well, of course.’ Upon reconsidering, the smile was erased from her face as quickly and thoroughly as an Etch A Sketch screen after a good firm shake. ‘I think so. I talked to her before she left.’

  ‘When did she leave?’

  ‘Oh, days ago.’

  I frowned. ‘She’s not taking a plane?’

  ‘No, she wanted to drive down on that new motorbike of hers.’

  ‘Her bike?’ Maddie had been talking about her bike all autumn long, every time I spoke to her. But her bike wasn’t a real motorcycle. It was one of those little European scooters. ‘She’s driving from Boston to Virginia on a Vespa? Those things were invented for Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn to putter around Rome on, not for cross-country traveling with a Canadian cold front moving in!’

  My father, standing in front of the open fridge, shook his head in admiration. ‘You know your sister! It’s always something new with her. And she never does anything halfway.’

  ‘But it’s dangerous,’ I said. ‘She could have an accident, or break down, or meet some nut on the road.’

  Mom seemed unfazed. ‘She said she was going to take little side roads – really get to see the country.’

  Dad, having rustled up a plateful of food, sidled up to Jason. ‘Do you think mentioning Oliver Cromwell in a friendly conversation is a federal offense?’

  Not about to allow him to put that question to the test, I hopped between them, hooking my arm through Jason’s. ‘No time for that now, Dad – Jason and I are going to the Smithsonian.’

  ‘What a good idea!’ Mom exclaimed.

  ‘But they just got here,’ Dad complained.

  ‘No, Laird, we just got here,’ Mom shot back. ‘They’ve already done the grocery shopping.’

  ‘Okay,’ I interrupted. ‘We’ll be going now.’

  During the car ride, I let vent all my worries. ‘Riding cross-country on a motor scooter? In December? How could someone who’s been to med school be so idiotic?’

  ‘It sounds adventurous … if a little harebrained.’

  ‘A little!’ I drove a few blocks (Jason had let me at the wheel, since this was an impromptu trip and I knew the territory), then pulled out my cell phone. I tried dialing Maddie’s cell phone number. Of course there was no answer. She probably wouldn’t have been able to hear the ring through the icy wind in her hair.

  From Maddie, I moved on to other fears – like whatever might be happening at home. Seeing Ted in his current condition still gave me a shock. He was always such a brick! The ultimate big brother. And what was going on with my parents?

  How was I supposed to seduce my boyfriend with family holiday magic when everything had turned so sour?

  ‘Not one single snow village scene has been put out,’ I said. ‘That’s got to mean something.’

  ‘What would it mean?’

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have the slightest idea. ‘She always puts the villages out. They’re her pride and joy. Especially the Alpine village. She’s spent years trolling eBay to get all the right pieces for it. And you’d think she would have tried to make the place cheery for Ted’s sake, at least.’

  ‘Ted looked like he was beyond the reach of miniature housing displays.’

  I heard the cheery ‘Deck the Halls’ ring of my cell phone and picked it up again. Maybe this would be Maddie.

  ‘How’s it going?’

  It was Isaac. I bit my lip with disappointment, yet there was something comforting about the sound of his voice. My lifeline. ‘Disaster. Melinda left Ted and now he’s rattling around the house like Foster Brooks, and my sister is riding a Vespa home from Massachusetts, and my parents are bickering and seem to have forgotten that there’s a holiday going on at all. The house is bare. Bare.’

  Isaac seemed really disturbed by that last bit. ‘The house isn’t treed?’

  ‘It’s treed,’ I allowed, ‘but only artificially.’

  He clucked in a way that was very reassuring to me. I wasn’t going crazy. This was weird. ‘Is your Mom okay?’

  ‘As far as I know. She and my dad are just being really cranky.’

  ‘I’ve never seen them cranky at all.’

  ‘That’s because you’re company.’

  ‘Exactly. And you’ve got company now.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Jason.’

  Oh, right. It wasn’t that I had forgotten him, but it was hard to think of someone as company after they had bought your parents groceries. You tended to start thinking of people like that as members of the family. Or social workers.

  ‘Are you coming over tonight?’ I asked Isaac.

  ‘Are you having dinner?’

  I thought for a moment. ‘I wouldn’t count on it.’

  I took the ensuing silence for a no.

  Then, out of the blue, he asked, ‘Holly, what do know about this Jason guy?’

  I cut a glance at Jason, who was studiously not paying attention to my conversation. ‘Why?’ I asked nonchalantly. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘A month?’ he asked. ‘And no sex?’

  ‘That’s not that weird.’ Were we such a degenerate, sex-crazed society that waiting a month seemed odd now?

  Though, of course it had been driving me crazy.

  ‘Not that I mind,’
he said. ‘In fact I’m glad.’

  ‘Why should you be glad?’ Celibacy loves company?

  He sighed. ‘Think of it. Is this person for you? What kind of guy can’t think of one thing he ever wanted and didn’t get?’

  Now I started to get mad, even though the very same thought had crossed my mind. Or maybe because of that. I felt disloyal even having this conversation, especially with Jason right there. ‘What’s your point?’

  ‘I think this guy has some kind of saint complex. He’s just too perfect.’

  ‘That’s a terrible thing to say!’ I said.

  ‘Don’t have a cow,’ he said, chuckling. ‘I just thought I should mention it. As a friend.’

  As a demon. He was obviously trying to rattle me, though I had no idea why. ‘I’ve got to go.’ Otherwise we would have a wreck.

  ‘Okay. Say “hi” to Mr Perfect for me.’ He signed off with a laugh.

  ‘Pest,’ I muttered, gunning through a yellow light.

  We drove in silence for a moment.

  ‘Maybe we should have invited him along,’ Jason said.

  I practically howled. ‘Over my dead body! Honestly, he acts as if my life is the staging ground for all his moods and antics. And I’ve about had it with his incessant needling.’

  After a few moments I flicked my gaze over and noticed Jason staring at me as if I were some kind of monster.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘I was talking about Ted.’

  ‘Oh!’ No wonder he was regarding me as if I had just grown a second head. ‘I thought you meant Isaac. That was Isaac on the phone.’

  He nodded. ‘Maybe it would have done Ted some good to get out of the house and be with people.’

  Wasn’t that sweet of him? Always thinking about other people. Even people who locked themselves in their rooms when he came for a visit.

  We went to the National Gallery, but we didn’t really look at many paintings. It was early evening, but because of the holidays there was a rushed, closing-time atmosphere in the place. All the employees looked ready to abandon their framed charges and hit the malls to finish their shopping.

  Jason and I just wandered around a few rooms, then headed for a coffee shop.

  I was still in a bit of a funk. After lingering over two cups, Jason gave me a nudge. ‘Why is it I get the feeling that you don’t want to go home? Are you trying to hide me from your family?’

  ‘Try the other way around. I can’t believe you would want to go back there!’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ He shrugged. ‘Your brother is having problems, so it’s understandable he’s upset. It’s an awful time of year to go through the kind of trouble he’s having.’

  I frowned. ‘I know … but even my mom and dad …’

  ‘They’re great!’ Jason said.

  ‘They weren’t at their best, believe me.’

  ‘But I liked it that they weren’t hovering when we arrived.’

  They not only weren’t hovering; they had forgotten we were coming.

  ‘And the house looks great. I like old houses. So the tree is artificial. And smallish. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.’ His Kenneth Coles gave me a gentle kick beneath the table. ‘You’re spoiled, you know that?’

  Maybe I was. He seemed so glad to be in the bosom of my messed-up family, it made me a little ashamed. All I could see was that the one year I was really primed for holiday cheer, no one else was cooperating. ‘Maybe when we get home, things will have improved.’

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ Jason said, coaxing me along. ‘Why don’t we take your folks out to dinner? Your mom will probably be so busy these next few days, it would be great to give her a treat.’

  That was Jason all over. Looking at his handsome face, feeling all that optimism radiating from him, I felt humbled, as if someone had poured the soul of all the good men of the world into Brad Pitt’s body and handed the result to undeserving me for Christmas. He was perfect.

  Recalling what Isaac had said, I was perturbed. Then defiant. What was wrong with perfect?

  We went home, and while Jason went up to the spare room to change for dinner, I found my mom sitting in the living room with her feet propped up on an ottoman. She had Walkman headphones clapped on her ears and hadn’t heard us come in.

  ‘Mom?’

  She jumped as if I had jolted her out of a deep sleep. ‘Oh, hi!’

  ‘What are you doing?’ What I really meant was, Don’t you have some walnut people to attend to?

  ‘I’m listening to Crime and Punishment. They had an unabridged copy at the library.’

  That would explain the plastic box the size of a small suitcase sitting on the floor next to her. It even came equipped with a handle.

  ‘Mom, what’s going on? It seems really weird to be in the house and not see any of the old decorations. What happened to your snow villages, and all the other stuff?’

  ‘Those villages are such a lot of work to arrange! I just didn’t have the stamina this year.’

  ‘Well, but …’ She obviously had some stamina, or she wouldn’t be listening to a reading of Dostoevsky.

  ‘Is this really the time to be sitting around listening to depressing Russian novels?’

  ‘Well, you weren’t here and Ted’s still in his room …’ She shook her head. ‘And it’s not really depressing at all! I’m surprised. It’s sort of like a suspense story, really. I don’t know why they gave it that dreary name – they should have called it … well, I don’t know …’ She tilted her head and thought for a moment. ‘It’s got that great murder scene. Maybe something with fear in the title. Sudden Fear. Or how about Landlady Beware?’

  ‘You haven’t mentioned Jason,’ I said, changing the subject.

  She blinked at me. ‘What should I say about him?’

  I plunked myself down on the ottoman. ‘Well, what do you think? Were you surprised?’

  ‘Yes, I was.’ She thought for a moment. ‘He doesn’t seem your type.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ I said. ‘Of course he’s better looking than anyone I’ve gone out with.’ To me he seemed better looking than anyone, period.

  Mom smiled wistfully. ‘I always liked Isaac.’

  ‘Isaac?’ I bit my lip. I was still miffed with him.

  ‘Did he drive down with you, too?’

  ‘Well, yeah, but …’

  ‘That’s good. Don’t forget to invite him to dinner tomorrow. He’s always such a lot of fun!’

  I wanted to tear my hair out. I had brought home Jason – Adonis – and all she could talk about was Isaac?

  ‘Speaking of dinner,’ I said, ‘Jason wanted to take you and Dad out tonight.’

  ‘Your father and I already had dinner.’

  ‘Already? It’s only –’ I looked at my watch. It was 7:00 P.M. I should have remembered that my parents usually ate at six on the dot.

  Mom shrugged. ‘You were gone, and there was all that food …’

  ‘We can put something together here,’ Jason piped up behind me.

  I jumped up. How long had he been standing there? I hope not long enough to hear my mother stating her preference for Isaac!

  My dad came in. ‘Do they want to go out again? They just got here!’

  ‘We were thinking of taking you out to dinner,’ I said.

  ‘Oh!’ My dad brightened. ‘That sounds great.’

  ‘Laird, you just ate,’ Mom reminded him.

  ‘I don’t mind going along for company,’ my dad said. ‘Maybe have some coffee …’

  ‘Terrific,’ Jason answered.

  Dad gave me a fatherly nudge but directed his next comment to Jason. ‘Maybe you can help me convince Holly here to look beyond teaching English to seventh graders. She could go to graduate school and at least teach in a college, or go to law school.’

  ‘Dad …’ Just because I didn’t want to get a Ph.D., he acted as if I were a beach bum. I could never convince him that I liked teaching English to seventh grad
ers. I was even good at it.

  ‘ ‘‘It’s never too late to become what you might have been,” ’ he lectured.

  By the time he brought out that old saw, we were usually reduced to scolding on his part and eye rolling on mine. It had been the same since I was a teenager. I wasn’t trying hard enough. I didn’t apply myself to the subjects that matter, or have the right kind of ambition. Look at Maddie, he’d say.

  ‘You all have fun,’ my mother chirped. ‘I think I’ll stay and get a little farther along in my book.’

  I could see why. Crime and Punishment was looking like a nice alternative to family togetherness to me now, too.

  At that point, Jason was practically dragging me along. We passed underneath the archway where the mistletoe usually hung. I turned. ‘Mom, what happened to the mistletoe?’

  ‘Mistletoe?’ She looked confused for a moment. As if she had never even heard of the stuff. ‘Oh! I couldn’t find any. There’s a shortage this year – a fungus killed it all.’

  I groaned as I was tugged away. Wouldn’t you know it? For twenty-seven years there had been mistletoe dangling in that spot, as useless to me in my coupleless state as a screen door on a submarine. But the one year I really needed it? Mistletoe blight!

  Chapter Four

  During dinner I started to get the jitters. All the time I was sawing through a chicken breast and picking at my mashed potatoes, I kept thinking, This could be the night. I could barely keep my mind on the conversation – something about the New York draft riots during the Civil War – for wondering what would happen when Jason and I got back home. Should I find some way to entice him to my room, or should I change into something slinky and tiptoe over to his?

  At one point, Jason had reached over to squeeze my knee under the table, causing me to sploop coffee all over my crème brûlée.

  When we got home, Dad announced he was trundling off to bed right away. In the living room, Ted was sitting cross-legged on the couch with our old crocheted granny-square afghan around his shoulders. He was staring at the Quality Value Channel. I was relieved to see him out of his room, even if he did appear to have tear marks on his cheeks.

  ‘It’s Melinda’s favorite channel.’ His voice rasped with an odd blend of nostalgia and bitterness. ‘She always watches it before bed. She’s probably watching it now.’