Trina elbows me in the ribs, and I sputter the first thing that comes to mind.
“Hey, neighbor, we’re having a party. Care to join us?”
I cringe, sure the words didn’t come out as casual as they sounded in my head. He watches me guardedly.
“What are you up to now?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I smile, secretly patting myself on the back. Play it cool, Olivia.
He looks around the street, and I see the reflection of each house, blinking and flickering, as he takes each one in. This has got to be a Christmas nightmare for him. Only he doesn’t seem that perturbed by it.
“Your house is looking pretty sad, Travis,” Trina pokes at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to join in the holiday fun? I’ve got those lights sitting in a box with your name on it.”
“I’ll pass,” he replies, his voice washing over me like velvet, warming my insides. I reach up and loosen the scarf around my neck, feeling a little too warm. “This is how you’re going to do this?” he asks, his eyes once again settling on me.
“Wait,” I say, breaking free of the trance he’s had on me since approaching us. “Do you think this party has something to do with you?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” he retorts, but not before crossing his arms. I lick my lips, ignoring the way his arms bulge and stretch against the material of his shirt.
“Someone’s ego needs checking,” Lisa singsongs, bringing her drink to her lips. I snort, unable to hold back my laughter.
“Look, I don’t care what everyone’s doing out here, or about this light show that’s sprung up overnight. But I’m gonna tell you all, no more cookie deliveries.” He doesn’t wait for a response but turns around and heads back into his dark home, nestled cozily amongst the array of Christmas lights and joy.
Everyone around bursts out laughing, regaling their cookie delivery trips to his house. I wonder what he’s done with all the cookies. There was a mountain of them this afternoon when I arrived home with Hannah. It doesn’t matter what he says, though; the cookie deliveries will continue. I’m not the only one who’s enjoying messing with him, and even if I could get them all to stop, I wouldn’t.
But for a moment, I can’t help but feel a little bit sorry for him. How someone can hate the happiest time of the year isn’t something I’m able to understand.
Travis
As the song Santa Baby echoes through my room for the thousandth time tonight, I throw my pillow across the room. I’ve reached my limit of this new little game.
Between the blinking lights and the Christmas music, I feel like I’m trapped in Santa’s fucking village of hell.
And it’s all her fault.
My hot-as-fuck neighbor thinks herself clever, torturing me this way, all for reasons I haven’t been able to figure out. Whatever they are, I don’t care because I’m ready to fly the white flag and admit defeat. Anything to keep from hearing that fucking song again. There are only so many times a man can hear Santa Baby before wanting to stab himself in the ears to keep from hearing it again.
I throw off the blankets, shove my legs into a pair of sweat pants and boots, stomp down the stairs, and grab my jacket off the hook before walking out into the cold night. It’s freezing out, but I don’t notice it because my blood is boiling.
After the little party she hosted for the block, I expected the music to cease. After all, there is a town noise ordinance. But it didn’t. And when I went to bed, it only seemed to get louder.
As I reach the door, I knock softly, but the opening notes of that damn song queuing up quickly change my mind.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I bellow, and my fist meets the door, refusing to stop until she opens it. I don’t care if I wake the entire neighborhood at this point. The music must stop.
The door opens, and she peeks out at me wearing a knowing smirk on her face.
“Travis,” she exclaims with a sickly sweet voice. “What brings you to my doorstep this late?”
“Turn it off,” I demand between gritted teeth and do my best to stare her down. Only she doesn’t flinch.
“Turn what off?” she asks, trying to look innocent.
“I swear to God, woman, if you don’t turn that shit off, I will find those damn speakers and make sure they never work again,” I growl, throwing a hand into my hair and tugging on it. She reaches into the pocket of her robe, pulling out a small remote.
“If you want me to turn the music off, all you need do is ask.” She smiles, her finger hovering over the power button. If I weren’t so pissed right now, I’d put her over my knee and spank her for putting me through this nightmare. But I am pissed, and if I get anywhere near her ass, I’ll probably flip her over and bury my face in between her legs. Punishing her an entirely different way.
I swallow hard, watching her with wild eyes. “I thought I did.”
“Nicely,” she adds.
“Me standing here is as nice as I’m going to get. Don’t push your luck, sweetheart.”
“Are you threatening me?” she asks, moving her finger away from the power button to another. This one makes the music louder, and it takes everything inside of me to keep from ripping the remote from her hand and smashing the damn thing.
“Please,” I grunt, cupping my ears with my hands, glaring at her.
“Good enough.” She shrugs and turns the entire show off before placing the remote back in her robe. I let my hands fall to my sides and listen to the sound of my own breathing for the first time since six o’clock last night. “Have a nice night, Travis.” Liv giggles and closes the door on my face.
I take a deep breath and slowly release it before turning and walking back to my house. The dark neighborhood is a welcome sight, as I listen to the sound of my boots crunching against the snow.
Peace at last.
Once inside, I make my way up the stairs and into my bedroom, stripping down as I go. Just as I’m about to crawl in between the blankets of the king-size bed, it happens.
She turns the lights and the music back on.
“Fuck me,” I holler to the empty room, contemplating going back over and following through with my threat to smash the system. Only I hesitate.
Hannah is home, sleeping in her bed. After the other night, the last thing I need to do is invade her space and threaten her mother.
Instead, I head back downstairs, putting my clothing back on as I go, and pick up my key off the table beside the door. I open the door and climb reluctantly into my truck.
If Liv wants to play dirty, I can do that, from the quiet of my aunt’s couch.
It’s time to turn the tables.
My cute little neighbor thinks she’s clever, but now I want to see how long she’ll last. She can play the music as loud as she wants, and for however long she wants. I won’t be there to hear it.
Liv
Five days later
I’m walking out of Hannah’s room for the night when I hear a soft knock on my door.
Oh, thank goodness. I slouch against the wall, ready for this fight with Travis to be over. I don’t know what I was thinking when I came up with the idea of the music and light show. It’s driving me insane, even with my noise-cancelling headphones. I’m at my breaking point with it all. How he’s been able to deal with it every night for the last week, I wish I could find out.
I approach the door but grab the remote off the side table and tuck it into my pocket. Even though the music is driving me crazy, I’ll be damned if I let him see it. I refuse to show any weakness. I unlock the door without using the peephole, again, knowing he’s going to say something about it, and pull it open.
“This shit has got to stop,” a voice says, but instead of coming face-to-face with Travis, it’s Betty’s small frame glaring at me, covering her ears.
“Betty,” I exclaim and open my door further, welcoming her inside. She quickly crosses the threshold and closes the door with a sigh. The music coming from outside is
muffled, but you can make out every word clearly. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s time for an intervention,” she grumbles, moving about my house and making her way into the kitchen. Which shouldn’t surprise me, since she used to own the house.
“An intervention?” I ask, following behind her. She opens the refrigerator and peeks her head inside.
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” She looks back at me. “You got any beer?”
“Bottom shelf,” I respond and frown. “What are you talking about, Betty?”
“That damn circus show you have going on out there.”
“What about it?”
“Don’t got anything against you, girly. In fact, I admire your tenacity. The way you’re going at it with my nephew, damn, girly, I can’t wait to see you two finally give in to the shit brewing between ya.” She takes two beers out of the fridge, pops open both bottles, and hands me one.
“Betty—”
“But I need my couch back,” she interrupts, her eyes laser focused on me.
“I’m not sure where you’re going with this? What do I have to do with your couch?”
“I take it you haven’t figured out Travis isn’t home and hasn’t been all week.” She brings the longneck bottle to her lips and tips it back, takes a long pull from it, all the while watching me with the same-colored eyes I’ve been hoping to see at my doorstep every night for the past week.
“He hasn’t?” I ask, trying my hardest to sound uninterested, but I’m all over it. Mimicking her movements, I take a pull of the cold beer, attempting to swallow the lump that has formed in my throat. She smirks knowingly. Aw, fuck it. I groan and bite. “His truck is parked in the driveway.”
“You silly, naïve girl,” she chuckles and shakes her head. “He leaves his truck in the drive because he knows that’s the first thing you’ll look for. He’s been riding his motorcycle over to my place, across town, every night since Monday.”
“In this weather?”
“That’s what I said, but when a man’s desperate for some peace and quiet, he’ll freeze his balls off for it.” Betty leans against the counter, like she is waiting for me react. But I’ve given her enough for now. “So, like I said, I want my couch back. I love my nephew, but he’s turned into a six-foot-two, two-hundred-pound cockblocker. And Mama needs to get herself some.”
Sometime between her knocking on my door and now, the song ended, but I know we are seconds away from it starting again, so I pull the remote out of my pocket and turn it all off.
Motherfucker!
Travis hasn’t been home since Monday, and it’s Friday now. I’ve been torturing myself every night for no damn reason.
“How have you not lost your mind? He said you were playing that damn song and light show all night long.” Her eyes widen, and I see a flash of amusement in them.
“Noise-canceling headphones. I also have the speakers placed strategically so his bedroom windows get most of the sound.”
“Your other neighbors haven’t complained?”
“I bought the block the same headphones.”
“You thought of everything, then.”
“Except this,” I admit with a deep sigh. “I’ve been torturing myself the last few nights. My bedroom windows are across from his, and there is only so long I can wear those damn headphones before they start to hurt.”
Betty laughs.
“It’s time to end the madness, girly.”
“Why is he such a grinch?”
“Is that what this is about?”
“He made Hannah cry.”
“And this is your revenge?” I say nothing because I don’t need to. She’s already figured everything out. She watches me a moment longer before shaking her head. “Travis hates Christmas. A lot of bad shit has happened to our family around the holidays.”
“What do you mean?”
“When Travis was seven, his grandfather, my father, died two days after Christmas. He’d been battling prostate cancer for almost six months. It rocked the foundation of our family, but it affected Travis in a deep way. His grandfather was the only real father he’d ever known.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I whisper, feeling a wave of sadness fall over the room. She nods, brushing off my condolences.
“The man was a pain in the ass, but he was good to Travis.” She pauses briefly but doesn’t stop there. “When he was eleven, he fell off his brand-new bike on Christmas morning and broke his arm in three places. He was in a cast for almost six months. They had to re-break the bones twice.”
“Shit, but I don’t understand why that would make him hate Christmas.”
“This pattern went on for years. Until four years ago, when he experienced the final straw and swore off the holiday altogether.”
“There’s more?”
“I wish I could say there wasn’t, but his story isn’t mine to tell. He doesn’t want to celebrate a holiday that has been anything but merry for him. Travis isn’t the only one in our family who has chosen to ignore the holiday.”
“But you celebrate Christmas,” I point out, taking another pull at my beer.
“I’m not them,” she explains, setting her finished beer on the counter. “The shit that’s happened to Travis, you’d hate the holiday, too.”
I hang my head, taking in what she’s told me, and I feel like the world’s biggest asshole. I never truly considered the reasons behind his aversion to the holiday. If I had, I wouldn’t have turned into the neighbor from hell.
“Tell him I’ll turn off the music, but not the lights. The lights are for Hannah,” I tell her and lift my hand to my hair, tucking it behind my ear. “And I’ll cancel the live animals for the nativity scene I had planned for Christmas Eve.”
Travis
It’s been quiet since Betty’s visit with Liv and the truce she managed to negotiate between us. At first, I was pissed at Betty when she butted in, but when she came home that night and kicked my ass to the curb, I was also grateful. After a little brooding and the cold drive home, I was happy to sleep in my bed without the overbearing music.
The lights I can deal with.
In the last day or two, the visits from my neighbors have stopped. The random plates of Christmas cookies have disappeared. Even Liv has gone out of her way to ignore me completely.
Everything is how it should be.
I should be happy about it, right?
But I’m not.
I step outside my front door. The silence of the empty house is too much to bear tonight. A trip to The Drunken Tankard and a round of pool usually cure my blues, but when I hear Hannah squeal from a few feet away, I can’t help the way my heart picks up and a moment of warmth begins to bloom inside my chest.
It takes one second or two to realize her excitement isn’t for me. Why would it be? I haven’t spoken to her since the night I found her on the front porch with a plate of cookies.
I haven’t done anything to deserve even a friendly hello from the young girl.
“Daddy!” she yells excitedly before running across the yard to the black BMW parked in front to their house. A tall blond man leans against the hood of the car and turns to catch the young girl as she throws herself into his arms.
“Hannah-Banana!” he exclaims before lifting her and burying his face in her neck. Pulling away a moment later to look down at her smiling face. “How’s my girl doing?”
She answers him, but I don’t hear the response. Something else has caught my eye. Liv standing on the front porch, leaning against the railing. Instead of watching her daughter and the blond man, she’s watching me.
I see the curiosity in her eyes and look away.
She caught me watching her daughter fawn all over her father. Big deal.
It’s not like Liv can see my thoughts about the moment. The secret wish for someone to be that excited when I come home. The yearning to shed this protective asshole shell and be a part of something bigger. Something important.
&nbs
p; No, she couldn’t see any of that. My mask is too thick. My shell too hardened. She saw nothing.
Liv
I saw everything, and for the first time, Betty’s words hit home, and they hit hard.
Travis doesn’t want to be an asshole. At least not on purpose. It took seeing the look on his face when Hannah ran into Parker’s arms to finally understand it all.
My grinchy neighbor wants to join the Whoville jubilee after all.
“Hey, Liv.” Parker approaches with Hannah still in his arms. His honey-colored eyes twinkle at me with joy. He’s happy to see us both.
“Hi, Parker,” I say warmly, walking down the steps and embracing him, as Travis pulls out of his driveway. I try not to look, but I can see his eyes on us, watching every move. When Parker bends down to kiss my cheek, I have no doubt Travis sees it. “Come inside. Hannah made you some delicious chocolate chip cookies.”
“You did?” he asks our daughter with wide eyes. “With extra chocolate chips?”
“Yes,” she responds and nods excitedly.
“My favorite,” he laughs and follows me inside the house. I glance over my shoulder, hoping to catch one last look at Travis’ truck, but he’s long gone.
***
Parker pours me another glass of wine, and I snuggle into my blanket beside him. We chose to sit on the back patio, with the space heater on, like we’ve done a hundred times before in our old house. Except it was never this cold. He places the wine bottle back onto the table and leans back, draping his arm around my shoulders.
“What’s going on, Olive?” his deep voice rumbles in his chest against me. I sigh and breathe in his familiar scent, finding comfort in how normal the moment feels.
Parker and I have always had this easy friendship between us, and after the last few weeks I’ve had, I can use a comforting moment or two.
“I have the neighbor from hell,” I laugh, feeling some of the tension fall away. “He hates Christmas. He hates the holidays surrounding it. He’s a grinch. No, that’s not quite right. He’s Ebenezer fucking Scrooge.”
Travis - A Scrooged Christmas Page 4