The instant revelation leaves me desperate for closure. I’m ready to run out the door screaming her name until she magically appears. Then I look back at the table and see the little boy who shares my name.
I should’ve known there would be obstacles.
“Want to take a ride with me?”
He tilts his head, sort of the way a dog would when they are amused. “Right now?”
“Yeah, right now. I think we should go see where I grew up.”
“You showed me the farm before, Daddy. Mommy says you used to have horses. I think horses are cool. Maybe one day I can ride one.”
“There’s horses in Kentucky, buddy.”
“Where’s Kentucky?”
I think at five years old I knew the whole drive there. “Where the rest of my family lives. You’ve been there before haven’t you?”
He shrugs. “We went to Disney World one year. I really liked the fireworks.”
I don’t waste another minute discussing it. I need to see the farm. I have to figure out how things got so messed up. I’m no sooner buttoning up his coat when Van walks back in the house. At first she’s paying no attention to us. She’s at the desk in the den sorting through paperwork. “Ty, I left the Tully account file. Have you seen it?”
“No.”
“I thought you may have gone over it today.”
“Why would I do that?”
Her hand goes right to her hip. “Don’t be a jackass. You know why. We didn’t open up our own firm so we could lose clients. Where could it be?”
Oh hell no! I am not an accountant. No way! I hate math. This isn’t my life without Heather. This is Hell’s inferno.
“I’m really getting sick of cleaning up your messes all the time. Why can’t you be like a normal husband and contribute once in a while? Sometimes I think Ty Jr. has more sense than you.”
“Van, this just isn’t worth it.” I don’t even want to continue this with her. It’s not worth it. I’ve seen enough of this reality. Without hesitation, I pull the little kid into my arms and walk him right out the door. I only sit him down to unlock the car door that’s in the driveway.
Van is coming for me, yelling again, though I’m not listening. I’ve already jumped in the driver’s seat and started backing out of the yard. There’s no way to know where I am or how to get out of this, but I’m going to drive until we figure it out. I’m not spending another second in that marriage. Neither will my fake son.
The town has grown, similar to what it is today with small differences. Once we’ve made it to a familiar area I head toward the farm where my parents raised me. I know things aren’t what they seem, but for some reason I need to see it for myself. I just want to feel a connection.
Where my parents’ house once stood is a pile of burned rubble. A large corporate sign sits in the field to the left, stating that a huge subdivision will be coming soon. My stomach curls with agony. This can’t be happening, but it is. It all feels more real than I want to admit. My eyes are burning as the vehicle comes to stop at the only existing structure left on the property. When I get out I almost forget about the small child in the booster seat waiting for assistance. Luckily, he’s smart enough to hop out and join me without assistance. “This is where you used to live, right?”
“Yeah.” I can’t tell him it’s where I still live. It’s where my family has always resided. Just down the road my twins have both built homes. The farm house remains are where my daughter and her husband raise their children. There’s an animal hospital near the road that they run together. The hair salon. The cattle. Everything is missing. I feel as if I could vomit at any time. Keeling over, wishing it would all just end, I hear the sound of another vehicle pulling down the dirt road. It comes to a stop behind mine and out steps a blonde female wearing the worst Ugly Christmas sweater my twisted head could conjure up. Santa is sitting in a recliner with a beer in his hand, and a naked woman is dancing on a pole with his hat on her head. “Eyes up here,” Heather motions when she notices me staring. “Some things never change.”
“You can stop right there. Nice shirt.”
“You like it? You picked it out.” She cackles with a snarl at the end. I still feel the same way about Heather as I did before, but now there’s an intentional need to seek retribution for what she’s obviously putting me through. But wait…is this my own doing, my guilty conscience not being able to admit that I needed Heather in my past in order for my life to turn out the way it has?
“Please make it stop. This whole butterfly effect, or your rendition of a Christmas Carol needs to end. I get it. Wishing you never existed screws up my life. I have nothing without you in it.” It’s hard to say that out loud, but I make it happen, because I want nothing more than to be home, the real one, where I’m asleep next to my beautiful wife where I belong. “You’ve managed to twist my life to shit.”
A tug at my pants reminds me that we aren’t alone. “Daddy, who is this lady?”
She crouches to his level. “Ty, your daddy and I go way back.” She touches his little chin. “I could have been your mother, you cute little thing. It’s too bad your father doesn’t want you.”
I shove my body between them. “Leave him alone!” This is the only part I’ve been trying to avoid, this attachment to a child that I know doesn’t really exist. It breaks me to think about never seeing him again. He’s never going to know Christmas with the Mitchell family.
“Fine,” she says while brushing off her knees and standing straight again. “You want this to end?”
“You made me an accountant. My family is broken. We don’t even talk to each other. Miranda has been casted out as some home-wrecking whore. Van and I can barely look at one another. Colt is alone raising Noah. Nothing is right. There is nothing good about this alternate reality. I want my life back. I need to wake up. Just tell me what to do. I can’t let this happen to everyone I care about. Please, if you’re holding all the cards, make it stop.” Before she can speak I reiterate. “Don’t you dare mention anything sexual. Been there, done that. Not happening again. Keep your claws away from my meat.”
“I’ve never understood how Van, Amy and I could make amends for the sake of Callie and Jacob, but you’ve never even considered that I’m a changed woman. I’ve been a good person for a very long time. I’ve battled my demons and paid dearly for the mistakes I made when we were kids. I’ve raised my son in the best home possible, and proven that I’m an upstanding person in the church and community we live in. There has always been that animosity when it comes to you and Miranda. Neither of you have given me another chance. It’s really taken a toll on me. It’s the one thing I’ll always wish I had. Your forgiveness.”
I wave my arms around. “You want forgiveness while you have me trapped in some dream?”
“You have yourself trapped. I’m merely a figment of your own imagination, Ty. You can’t blame any of this on me. Your conscience isn’t settled. That’s your problem. This has never been about me. It’s about you learning to let go of the things we can’t change, and accepting that every choice we made in the past gave us what we have now in the present.”
I hate that I’m agreeing with her, or even having a conversation where I’m the bad guy. “My mind is playing tricks on me. That’s what you’re saying?”
“Well, how many glasses of eggnog did you have?”
I shrug. There wasn’t any counting involved.
“You want this to end, but you’re in control. You have been from the beginning. You set this into motion. You imagined everyone’s lives without me having a roll. You fabricated this story. Only you can make it stop.”
“I’ve tried. Every time I try to wake up a new setting appears that’s worse than the one before it.”
“Maybe what you need is resolve. Maybe you need to forgive, Ty. The real Heather is a girl who was trouble when you were kids. You weren’t perfect either. It takes two to tango. She may have manipulated people and inadvertently caused harm to
others, but she only did it because she thought it would make her happy. It’s Christmas, and you know you’re going to have to see her since she’s come to visit her son Jacob and your niece Callie. Aren’t you too old to hold onto these resentments. Don’t you teach your own children and grandchildren the value of forgiveness and lying your struggles with the Lord instead?”
“I hate myself right now. There. I said it. If this is all my doing, I hate myself.”
“Let go of the hate. Forgive yourself, Ty. That’s what this is about. It’s not me or what I’ve done, it’s your part in your past. Your decisions. This guilt comes from deep within yourself. Maybe if you let it go, you’ll be able to free yourself from the regrets you still hold inside.”
I hate that fake Heather is right. I hate it so much.
There’s a hard smack to my face, one which is well-deserved, but as my eyes blink to refocus I find I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Jake stands with his face only inches from mine. He gives my face another light slap. “I think he’s coming around, Mom.”
“Don’t worry about Dad. We need to get these presents out to the barn and near the tree before everyone else wakes up. The kids aren’t going to want to wait to sneak in there. With your father three sheets to the wind we’re down an elf.”
Sitting up, I realize the room is full of my adult children. Jake and Jax are closest to me, while Izzy stands beside her mother as they gather up gifts to be taken to the barn. Rusty, Amber and Reese are walking out the door with their hands full. Amber has a gift bag between her teeth where she ran out of hands to carry. We’ve never done things so unorganized. It is understandable how they want to ensure the children believe Santa visited last night and that Christmas isn’t a sham, at least until they’re old enough to understand.
Once I’m on my feet, it takes me a second to get over the dizziness I’m experiencing. “Just hold up. This old man isn’t going to let you take the credit for my hard work.”
I snicker, because just moments ago I was stuck in a nightmare I feared I’d never get out of. Now I’m back amidst the pandemonium as if time never stopped. “Can we just take a moment and thank your mother for staying up and offering to do this? I don’t think either of us have ever wrapped so many gifts in our lives. You’re lucky I didn’t put your shit in brown lunch bags and call it a day. Mom saves everything so I’m sure there’s enough grocery bags in the closet to carry three Christmases worth of presents.” As they turn their attention to my exhausted wife, I clear my throat and keep speaking. “And also me especially. Don’t forget to thank me. I’ve worked with my hands my whole life and never suffered these types of injuries to my hands. Just look at them. I’m going to require a full spa day, so whoever gets one in their stocking can re-gift it to me.”
“Ty, are you going to help or not?” Miranda isn’t messing around. If only she knew what I’ve been through.
Just as I’m about to answer Jax’s English Bulldog struts over to the tree, lifts his leg and pisses. We all just stare, as if he doesn’t do it anytime there’s a living plant in the house. “And we thought the cat was an asshole,” I say while pointing at the little jerk.
“I’ll clean it up in a minute.” Jax has his hands full of boxes. I don’t know why he insists on bringing the dog everywhere he goes. He’s just as bad at their house. One time he ate a whole Barbie doll. We had to wait three days before he started shitting out the parts.
“May as well get rid of the whole tree and cancel Christmas,” I say.
“Dad’s just pissed he can’t jerk off in the Santa suit this year,” Jake accuses, probably to distract me from the tree full of piss.
Jax appreciates his brother’s humor and joins in. “Don’t worry, there’s probably rubber gloves in your stocking, just add some Vaseline and you’re good to go.”
“You guys are sick. Have some respect, it’s Christmas,” Izzy interjects.
“Grandfathers still need to yank it from time to time, right Dad? Ain’t that how you keep it working? It’s like a well greased machine.” Jake counters.
I don’t know why it happens, okay maybe I have some inkling why, call it nostalgia or the fact that I have a new kind of appreciation for the people in this room with me, but my eyes fill with warm fluid. Looking at each of them, grown with their own families, each child successful and blessed beyond words, it’s all so much to be thankful for. I’m not one to break into an emotional fit, but being surrounded by my children and wife in this moment causes me to lose it right in front of them.
“Babe, are you crying?” Miranda notices first. She’s always looking out for me, even when I’m being hardheaded and annoying or both at the same time. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
The boys don’t know what to say. It’s obvious Iz seems concerned. It’s been a long while since she’s seen me upset or in this case happy beyond words. “Dad?”
While wiping the tears from my eyes, I manage a half smile. Then, just out of curiosity, I pull the elastic to my pants and look inside. Yep, everything is in place. For a second I thought it might be another dream where I woke up with a vagina. I had to make sure.
“I’m great actually. Just so damn proud of what we have here. It’s more than I ever could have asked for in this life. All jokes aside, I want you all to know it. I wouldn’t change a damn thing we’ve been through because look at what we’ve got in return. Blessings. So many damn blessings.”
I pat my leg for Miranda to sit on my lap. She doesn’t hesitate from putting down the things she’s holding and coming over to be in my arms. I hold her there, kissing her on the cheek in appreciation. “I love us, baby. Merry Christmas.”
She feels my forehead, checking my temperature while the boys mumble that I’m losing my mind in the background.
I know what’s come over me has left them worried. It’s hard to explain what I’ve been through, simply because none of it was probably real. The figment of my imagination changed my perspective regardless how it came to be. I have a new sense of adoration for my loved ones and I need them all to know it.
“I’m okay, I promise. I think sometimes I take everything we have for granted. You were right earlier about regrets. I wouldn’t want any other outcome for us, so I’m not sorry for the mistakes I made in the past because they gave us everything we have today. Everything happens for a reason.”
She tickles my nose. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into you, but I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I’m more than okay.”
“Let’s get out of here. He’s lost his ever-loving mind this time,” Izzy announces before walking out of the house.
Still shaken up from the weird grouping of self manipulating dreams, my eyes light up when I catch my first glance of Colt and Van. I’m like a kid in a candy store, seeing the vast variety of sugary goodness for the first time in my life.
No. I don’t want to eat them. I’m speaking of the excitement I feel to see Colt’s old ass step into the room while holding the hand of his wife as if they only just began dating. Their love lights up the holiday room as if we made no effort at all. They have something about their chemistry that makes it happen all the time. I used to be envious, but love isn’t something I’m lacking. I have my own romance novel ten-fold. Maybe Miranda and I have that same happy glow when people come around us. I suppose it’s not for me to worry about. We have everything we want and need. Besides, Colt loves shiny new things, and decorating, and yoga apparently. There’s nothing more hysterical to me than picturing that tall ass man in a downward dog position to appease his way more flexible wife.
Just thinking of her flexibility takes me back to the dream from Hell where she was my wife. I shake away the thought. It’s too much to relive.
Noticing the silver streaks in Colt’s hair, the crow’s feet on either side of his green eyes, and how his smirk sags a little more than when he was younger, a wide smile fills my face. “You don’t know how good it is to see the both of you. Merry freaking C
hristmas, family. Come here and let me hug you.”
Colt barrels into me, and we embrace like it’s the first time we’ve seen each other in years. There’s even an itch of sentiment in the way he reciprocates, as if to assure me everything is finally okay.
Then we break apart, as if there’s a time limit on male to male hugging. To break the ice, and regain my wit and charming ways, I say the first thing to come to mind. “I have it on good authority that I win everything Christmas this year for putting myself out there and getting shit done.”
“Yeah we figured you’d take all the credit and never let us live this down. Good thing we brought a bunch of residual germs and bowel stories with us to share.”
Van adds, “Because sharing is caring.”
“Because sharing is caring,” I mock her. “Mom used to say you’d give me cooties. She didn’t say when, but I guess she was right.” Right before I’m able to wrap my arms around her I’m shoved away. “Typical, Van. I didn’t want a hug anyway. I’ll save mine for all the other family members who adore me.”
My bottom lip pouts, but only until I realize she’s already walking away paying me no mind at all. Van does this to get to me. I can read that woman like a memorized book and she knows it. It makes me chuckle to myself.
The common area of the barn has been decorated to the fullest. Garland and lights surround the room. The giant family table, made from a large portion of barn wood that we removed on the property years ago, with seating for forty adults, extends almost the full length of the room. A vast amount of holiday decor scatters across the table. In the far corner sits the giant thirty foot Christmas tree, lit up and decorated with ornaments from every year since before I was born. A large sectional lines the adjacent wall and a television is mounted opposite with speakers cast throughout the space.
It Came Upon a Mitchell Clear: A Mitchell Holiday Novella (Mitchell Healy Series Book 16) Page 6