Ellipsis

by Kristy McGinnis

  Peter glanced down at his feet, uncomfortably. I added sweetly, “Why don’t you go talk some more with Lulu. She might want to go out for a bite with you!” I turned my back on him.

  After a moment, I shrugged at Morris’s sardonic look, and mouthed, “Is he gone?”

  He nodded. “New friend?”

  “Mm, something like that. I hope you don’t mind that I used you as an excuse.”

  He smiled and said, “Not really, but I’m a big believer in telling the truth. We’re going to have to actually leave and do some work now, you know.”

  I was a little confused, “What work would that be?”

  “I don’t know, maybe the work of getting a cup of coffee?”

  “Oh, well, I don’t know…” I suddenly felt a little nervous.

  “Hey, I’m a police officer. It’s my job to keep people honest,” he explained, again with his wry smile.

  I looked him over again; he was the kind of guy some women would call “nice looking.” He’d never grace the cover of a magazine, but there was an appealing side to his strength and those blue eyes that seemed to miss nothing. I’d only really dated a few men in my life, and they had all been the sort who might be described as “devastatingly handsome.” They’d also, coincidentally enough, all been foreign. I was drawn to people who were different, who changed the boring landscape of my daily life. I’d particularly always liked the quiet, brooding, artsy types. Narek had been my great love, but he was really an archetype for every guy I’d ever been interested in. Dan Morris was the complete opposite of my “type.” But so far, my type hadn’t worked out very well for me.

  “Mmhm. If you say so. I suppose I don’t really have a choice; I’d hate to be arrested for lying after all,” I quipped back.

  30

  “It’s the right thing to do,” Morris reminded me. I leaned back, focusing on the light flurries kissing the windshield softly. It was too late to change my mind; everyone back home was eager to see me and if I cancelled at this late moment, my mother would probably buy her own ticket and show up on my doorstep. Whether I was in Michigan or Virginia, I’d be facing my first Christmas without Charlie. It wasn’t as if I could completely escape that reality. Still, it would have been easier to hide from here. I knew my parents’ home would be dripping with holiday decor and expectations.

  I finally looked at Morris and gave a tight smile. He raised his eyebrows and nodded, “Yes, you can do this.”

  “Mm, if you say so,” I said doubtfully.

  Finally, I opened the car door and stepped onto the sidewalk. Morris walked around to the back of the car and opened the trunk to retrieve my bag and then joined me in front of the door marked departures. He pulled me into his arms, and his body helped counter the nearly freezing air temperature. I pulled my head back and locked gazes with his blue eyes and asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

  “Not this time, Nell. This time is about you and your family, they need you too, you know. I’ll be here when you get back. I’m a patient man.”

  I smiled at that. He was a very patient man. My mood swings had improved in the two months we’d been dating, but occasionally he still got a version of me I wasn’t proud of. It didn’t deter him. He’d also been incredibly patient in a physical way. I’d decided to take things slowly, far slower than I ever had before with a man. I knew he was ready for that next step, and I hoped I would be too soon, but in the meantime, he respected my boundaries. I had no doubts he would indeed be here when I got back. That did not worry me. I was more afraid I wouldn’t be me when that day came. I was afraid Michigan without Charlie might break me again.

  I didn’t give voice to my fears, instead, I smiled and lifted my face for a kiss. Afterward, I grabbed my rolling bag and walked into the airport purposely, refusing to look back. I knew instinctively though he had waited until I was safely inside before driving away.

  The airport was decked out in holiday flare and Christmas music played cheerfully throughout the terminals. After picking up a latte in a bright holiday cup I hadn’t wanted, I found a seat near my gate and awaited boarding. I couldn’t help, but people watch. Families with young children walked by in droves, some decked out in Disney apparel and others almost buried under heavy parkas and winter gear. I tried not to resent their holiday trips, but it was difficult. Every time I saw a parent snap at a small child or ignore their crying infant, I wanted to jump up and tell them to stop being so ungrateful for the blessings they had.

  As I scanned the people at my own gate, my gaze was drawn to an older teenage girl wearing earpods and a VCU hoodie. Her long red hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she was deeply engrossed in her phone screen. I felt a pang of nostalgia, once upon a time, I had been that girl. Weary from finals, exhausted with the city, eager to sleep in my own bed. I knew my parents would spoil me, loading me down with too many gifts to fly back when I returned to campus. Mom would tsk tsk over my thin frame and insist on fattening me up with huge, elaborate meals. There was also the excitement of seeing my old high school friends, most of who had stayed in the state or in neighboring states, but it was a homecoming for each of us and we were eager to show off with stories from our newly discovered independence.

  I wished I could summon up those same feelings of excitement and anticipation I knew were in this girl's heart no matter how cool an exterior she portrayed to the strangers in this airport terminal. I wished this visit could be that uncomplicated. My thoughts were interrupted by the boarding announcement, and I inhaled deeply for fortitude, then stood to board the plane.

  A short five hours later, I landed on my second plane in Traverse City. I’d specifically told my parents to do a curbside pickup, but I should have known better than to expect they’d comply. As I walked out of the secure area, there was my father holding a Welcome Home mylar balloon. My mother stood beside him and burst into tears at my appearance before running toward me and pulled me into her arms. Whatever awkwardness I’d prepared myself for, my parents greeting me as they had back in my college days hadn’t made the list.

  “Oh my god, I told you guys I’d call and then meet you at the curb,” I said, softening the words with a smile.

  “We know, but we’re so excited to have you here. We didn’t want to miss a minute of your time on the ground!” Mom said cheerily. She had never been easily dissuaded by me.

  “All right, let’s just get to the car now. I’m sick of airports,” I said as I walked toward the door.

  The swoosh of frigid air hit me like a freight train. I’d forgotten just how bitter cold northern Michigan was in December. I glanced at my parents; how did they live with this year after year? We walked briskly toward the parking lot, and I tried not to think about the fact the inside of my nostrils seemed to actually be frozen. Why hadn’t I suggested they all come down to Richmond for the holiday instead? The entire time, I focused on the weather, on my parents’ recently aged faces, on the people walking around us. What I did not focus on were memories of the last time I’d landed here under the golden umbrella of summer with Charlie in hand.

  As soon as we entered the relative warmth of the car, my mother talked. She talked for the entire twenty-five-minute drive home. That my father only occasionally grunted an acknowledgement and my own contributions were limited to the rare, “really?” “oh,” “huh,” to whatever tale she was telling, didn’t slow her down. The Hoebarton’s son had dropped out of college and didn’t have a plan, the skinny one, not the fat one. The fat one was doing great. Dear Miss Candace was in remission again. The whole church had been praying daily, so it wasn’t a huge shock, but what was a little shocking was Miss Candace’s decision to move down south to live with her daughter. All that prayer had been worthy, but wasn’t it just a little strange she’d pack up and leave that fast? Pinners, the local bowling alley, now had its own brewery. The townspeople were excited about it, but Mom thought maybe it was a little unfair to all the brewers that had loyally shipped thei
r stuff in from other parts of the region for decades. Sarah was still dating that electrician; he was nice enough even if he was originally from Detroit. They’d be joining us the following day for dinner.

  On and on, she spoke, at a fevered pace, as if she were desperate to say anything to avoid a moment of silence. It struck me that might actually be her motivation. Perhaps she knew the tougher conversations might be forced to surface in awkward silence. Although I preferred quiet to constant noise, I was thankful neither of my parents had asked me the dreaded question. How was I doing?

  As we neared the house and rounded that old familiar curb, I suddenly sat more upright and blinked rapidly. My father had always taken time to decorate for the holidays, but the sight before me was a manic display I’d never seen before. Lights seemed to cover every inch of the house; huge deflated blow-up exhibits littered the yard. A large plastic sleigh led by eight reindeer seemingly ran down along the long drive-way.

  My mother turned and smiled at me. “Like it? We hoped to surprise you!”

  “Uh, yeah, I’m surprised,” I stammered.

  “We just thought maybe we’d work extra hard this year to get everyone into the season,” she said brightly.

  Unable to resist, I asked, “Did you consult with Clark Griswold, Dad?”

  He sighed and shook his head, then said, “Come on, let’s make a run for the house. You’re not dressed for this weather.”

  I burst into the house, eager to escape both the polar vortex that swirled outside and the slightly disconcerting sight of a half dozen deflated figurines littering the snow-covered lawn like carcasses that had been picked clean by buzzards. The smell inside made me stop in my tracks. It was as if an entire pine forest had been vomited within the walls. I turned to my mother who was peeling her boots off, and asked, “Mom, what exactly did you do?”

  “Tis the season!” she said cheerily, although I thought I caught a waver of doubt in her words. As I started forward, I saw a small tree bedecked in red, white, and blue patriotic trim. It was odd. We’d never kept a tree in the hallway before. Shrugging, I turned the corner into the living room. There, a huge tree stood, covered with our normal hodgepodge of ornaments, and multi-colored twinkling lights.

  “Keep going!” Mom called out from behind me.

  Curious, I walked through the living room to the adjoining dining room. Another full-sized tree. This one was a seashore theme, all white and teal and gold. It was rather pretty, the sort of special tree you might see in a gift shop. Still, three trees were very much overboard.

  “Nice. Okay, I’m going to go…”

  “Oh no, keep going!” she said again.

  Bracing myself, I rounded the next corner into the kitchen. Yep. Tree. This one was smaller, sitting on the small curio table in the corner. It was decorated in Red Wings themed ornaments. Since when did my parents like hockey? I turned around and faced my mother, who was still smiling and said, “Let me guess, keep going?”

  She motioned ahead and I walked through the kitchen to the stairway leading down to the basement turned family room. At the bottom of the steps, I saw the white lights of another large tree. I walked toward it and my jaw dropped. This tree was decorated entirely in VCU and UM garb, clearly celebrating Sarah and my alma maters. That we had graduated 12 and 11 years ago, respectively, apparently hadn’t dampened my mother’s efforts.

  “Okay, now you can go to your room.”

  I breathed in the scent of pine for another few seconds and then smiled at her and said, “Really, it’s all lovely, Mom,” before heading up to my room. Lugging my bag from the first floor up to the second, I skillfully avoided looking at the photos that lined the wall. I already knew what hung there, various shots of Sarah and I at different ages, a few of my parents, and a bunch of Charlie from infancy onward. It wasn’t that his picture upset me, I kept him proudly displayed in my own home after all, but it was the context of this wall. The age progress it demonstrated, that had suddenly and forever ended.

  As I entered my room and threw the light on, I froze. There was another damned tree, and it was in my bedroom. That alone was a little perturbing, but it was my closer inspection of it that twisted my gut. It was a small tabletop tree placed on my desk. There were two types of ornaments on it. Flat, disc-shaped ceramic plates were each imprinted with a photo of Charlie. Some were of Charlie alone; some had me in them with him. I even found one of Narek holding him as a toddler. The other type of ornament was a clear glass angel with a gold halo. A dozen of them were spaced between the ceramic discs.

  I sank onto my bed and put my face in my hands. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t fake a wellness I didn’t feel, I couldn’t continue this holiday ruse, and I definitely couldn’t sleep in a room with this…. Angel tree, lit up in the corner. I considered picking it up and putting it in the hallway, but I’d just have to pass it every time I left my room. I could demand my mother remove it, but to what end? She’d meant well, I knew that it would only make her as miserable as me. In the end, I settled for carefully draping an extra sheet I found in the linen closet over it. I’d just have to sleep with the ghostly looking figure staring at me.

  When I made my way down for dinner, I avoided my mother’s gaze. I waited for her to mention the tree, but surprisingly she didn’t seem to be in a rush to discuss it. Instead, she was hyper-focused on sharing the week’s agenda. It was as if she was hosting a camp or a resort as she rattled off every holiday observation, ceremony, party, concert and service in town. I glanced at my father, and I saw his lips were pressed tightly together, as if he were suppressing a laugh. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Mom! What is going on here? This feels a little crazy. Why are we overdosing on Christmas?”

  Her cheeks turned pink and she was silent for a moment as if carefully considering her next words. “It’s just that, well, I imagine this will be your most difficult Christmas ever and if we can get you into the spirit of things, maybe that will help you turn a corner.”

  I felt my eyebrows furl with the effort of not responding immediately. One… two... three... I counted silently in my head, willing myself to be as kind as possible.

  “It is difficult, but that’s part of my process. I’m not supposed to skip the pain, Mom, and that doesn’t mean I’m not actually already turning corners.”

  I had shared some of what MPV was doing, but I realized there was a lot my parents didn’t know. I began to fill them in on our initiatives, and in the process, I made it clear just how close I’d become with the other women. My parents clearly needed some confirmation I was doing much better, and I hoped this would give them that peace of mind.

  My father cleared his throat and said, “I think this—” he waved his arms around the room, “This is all a little overboard, but I go along with it because, like your mother, I worry about you. Also, maybe we don’t make this clear enough, it’s not just worry, we miss you too.”

  He looked pointedly at my mother, who now looked uncharacteristically nervous and finally, she took a deep breath and continued for him.

  “Nell, we know you have relished your independence, and we are proud of all your accomplishments in Virginia. But we truly miss you, Sarah misses you too. We aren’t getting younger, and I think we can all appreciate how precious time can be. We would really like you to consider moving back here. I talked to Felix Gardenson and there is a position opening next year at the school. You could stay here if you wanted or we could help you find a place to live alone…”

  As her words trailed off, I closed my eyes and sighed. What she was suggesting wasn’t so outrageous, I had no blood ties to Richmond anymore and my parents were not getting younger. Here in Traverse City, I still had family, old friends, a history, the comfort of familiarity. I loathed the winters, but the rest of the year wasn’t so bad. Still, I’d found purpose in my Richmond tribe. Our weekly meetings were salve on a still not quite mended wound. Then there was Ben; he needed me almost as much as I needed him. And my s
tudents, obviously if I did make a move, it wouldn’t be until after the school year ended, but I’d lose sight of them as they progressed up through our district. My own classroom efforts under the new program were going well. It was in ink now, so I was reasonably assured it would continue after I left and I could conceivably bring that to Michigan.

  For all the pros and cons I immediately thought of, though, the one that reverberated loudest was Morris. I had no clue where it was going. The spark had barely been lit. Maybe our fledgling relationship would simply fizzle and die like a defective firecracker. Still, a future without Morris to turn to made me feel nervous. I’d grown to depend on his solid presence and practical advice. I’d grown to appreciate his quiet ability to ground me when I felt myself slipping off into a pool of self-pity. Could I really get through the day to day, without knowing Morris could be summoned if the need arose?

  “I have a pretty full life in Richmond these days, I’ll think about what you said, but it’s not an easy decision,” I admitted.

  My half promise seemed enough to keep the smile on my mother’s face, and with the elephant now fully discussed, I felt the mood lighten, and finally, I began to truly relax. After dinner and clean up, we settled in with mugs of spiked eggnog and a game of gin rummy and when I finally headed up to bed with a small, but pleasant buzz, I looked at the sheet draped tree and whispered, “Night ghost tree, night, Charlie.”

  31

  I’d braved the cold to head out to Grand Traverse Commons, intent on loading up with Christmas gifts for my parents, sister, and Sarah’s new mystery man. Once there, though, the throngs of holiday shoppers and the endless refrains of almost frantic holiday music made me feel twitchy. I ducked into a bakery to escape the madness. Sitting with my cranberry tart and latte at a small table in the corner, I mulled over the previous night’s conversation and the expectations for the next few nights. I’d been texting casually with Ronda when a shadow fell over my table and I heard a man clear his throat.