by Kat T. Masen
“Great, actually. And you? Staying out of trouble?”
“I try,” I answer as Dad smiles behind his mug. “Since Dad is here, that probably should’ve been a yes.”
“Go easy on her, Lex. Remember what it was like when you were nineteen?”
Dad squints with a stiff smile. “I’d rather forget.”
“Do you have plans to at least relax for the holidays?” I ask, pretending to act polite.
“Relax? What a foreign concept.” He laughs through the speaker. “Just Christmas Eve dinner tonight at my parents’ place. You know what my dad is like, he’s drunk on eggnog watching National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. It’s his tradition.”
Dad laughs loudly, knowing all too well what Uncle Rocky is like.
“I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing exactly that. You may want to leave before he whips out the Santa costume and asks Nikki if she’s been naughty.”
Both Dad and I try to hold in our laughter, though find it impossible to do.
Will groans. “Thanks for allowing me to relive the trauma.”
“Merry Christmas, Will,” I say, with my dad continuing to watch me. “Try not to work too hard.”
“Can’t promise that. But Merry Christmas, Amelia.”
Dad ends the call and continues a conversation about Uncle Rocky, quick to compare him to the infamous Cousin Eddie from the National Lampoon movies. We chat a little while longer before he kisses me goodbye, leaving for work.
As soon as he’s gone, my phone lights up with a text.
Will: What I would give to bend you over for being naughty.
Me: I’ll write a list of all the bad things I’ve done.
Will: What’s number one?
Me: You.
Ava strolls in the kitchen, complaining about her hair. We get into an argument over it, my patience with her wearing thin until Mom calls us both out for being petty. After we both refuse to apologize, Mom suggests we leave to avoid the rush.
The mall is the busiest I’d ever seen it, packed with people everywhere you look. There are panicked shoppers darting around and purchasing whatever they can get their hands on. I don’t care for rude people, nor the lines at each checkout. The shop attendants are beyond over it, barely a customary smile on their tired faces.
Had I been proactive and organized, I could’ve avoided all of this by shopping online. But, of course, I have better things to focus on, which is all I can think about these days.
Exhaustion begins to creep in, my feet tired from all the walking. I get everyone a present except Ava. Given that she’s following me everywhere, it makes it hard to purchase something without her knowing.
“I’m just going to go off on my own for a while.”
“Why? We’re almost done,” Ava complains.
“Because I just want to be alone,” I snap.
“God, Amelia, you’re such a bitch,” Ava barks, slamming the hanger back on the rack. “Ever since you got here, you’ve been in such a mood.”
“Ava!” Mom scolds, letting out a sigh. “This isn’t the place to have such a discussion.”
With a pinched expression, I stare directly at Ava, lacking any warmth toward my opinionated sister. If there’s anyone testing me, Ava Edwards is at the top of the list.
“Who cares, Mom,” Ava argues back. “Honestly, Amelia. Just say you don’t want to be here… that you’d rather be at Yale with your friends.”
Beside Ava, Mom lowers her head, remaining unusually quiet.
“You’re dramatic, as usual,” I retort.
“Am I?” Ava questions, placing her hand on her hip. “Because it looks to me like you left some man behind, and you’d rather be in his bed than with your family.”
My eyes widen at her accusation. There’s no way she could possibly know about Will unless she read my text messages. Fuck.
“Have you been reading my messages?”
Ava folds her arms. “No, but paranoid much? It looks like I was right.”
“Think whatever you want,” I sputter, momentarily beyond words. “I’ll meet you at Starbucks in fifteen minutes.”
I don’t say another thing, abandoning them in the evening wear section, desperate to be on my own. I hate that Ava struck a nerve, and more importantly, sniffed the so-called trail I’ve been trying to hide. To make matters worse, I continue to lie to Mom and sense she also caught on to my behavior. Am I that obvious? The only one who seems to be treating me normally is Dad.
Trying to shop for my annoying sister proves even more difficult. I have no clue what to buy her, especially after our argument, so I end up settling for a new hair straightener since she complained about hers this morning.
By the time we get home, the air between us somewhat clears. We both help Mom with preparing our traditional Christmas dinner and some finishing touches on the house. During the holiday season, our house looks like a picture-perfect image from a magazine. Everything is purposely placed and aesthetically pleasing from the oversized freshly-cut tree inside the living room to the twinkling lights that flicker outside the house.
We all sit down for dinner, then follow by dressing in our matching PJs Mom insists we wear to continue the Edwards’ tradition. There are no complaints from us girls, just Dad, as usual.
After dinner, we settle in the den with the fire on, a cup of hot chocolate warming our hands while watching a Christmas movie. I can’t help but watch my parents, the way they smile in each other’s embrace to the silly jabs they taunt each other with. Even Dad is relaxed, often kissing Mom’s forehead.
It makes me feel all the more alone. Even if my relationship with Will is made public, I can’t seem to envision him here, beside me, without my dad’s resentment. I pull out my phone, wanting to text Will, but end up putting it away. No good will come of me saying anything right now, given the questions clouding my thoughts might lead to an argument. The last thing either one of us need on Christmas Eve.
On Christmas morning, I wake to the sounds of my younger sisters running through the hallway. Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I see a text from Will.
Will: Merry Christmas, gorgeous.
I grin at his text, almost as if I can hear his voice say those very words. Before my departure, we decided to ditch the Christmas presents since neither one of us are interested in material items. But that isn’t without Will suggesting our present to each other should involve acts in the bedroom.
I had no idea sex could be so liberating, and how, with the right person, there are no limits. My fingers type profusely, knowing that I don’t have long before one of my sisters barges in and demands we open presents.
Me: Merry Christmas, handsome. I hope you behaved and Santa delivered.
Will: He will deliver, again, when you are back and naked in my bed.
Me: I was just thinking the same thing. Four more days, but who is counting?
Will: Me… I am counting.
“Millie, get up!” Alexandra shouts behind the door.
Letting out a groan, I drag my tired ass out of my room and down the stairs. No surprises that my parents went all out with presents scattered around the Christmas tree and stockings full to the brim. Opening presents takes a solid hour with lots of oohs and ahs and a ton of jumping up and down.
I thank my parents and sisters for all the gifts—clothes, jewelry, to name a few. After the younger girls abandon the living room with their presents, I help Dad clean up while Mom prepares breakfast.
“How does it feel to be back home?” Dad asks, picking up the wrapping paper and throwing it in the trash bag in his hand. “California is very different to the East Coast.”
“It’s warmer,” I say, touching an ornament on the tree. “It’s nice.”
“You’ve changed,” he adds, his eyes fixated on me. “You’ve matured in the few months you’ve been gone.”
“I guess college forces you to make better decisions. Plus, I’m nineteen now.”
“You’re a woma
n.”
“Dad, you’re not going to get sentimental on me, are you?”
“Hear me out.” He places the bag down, taking a seat on the armchair. “You worked incredibly hard to get into Yale. You’re choosing a challenging career, one that will challenge you for the rest of your life. And you’ve managed to make these decisions despite being raised in a wealthy family. I’m proud of you.”
I drop my chin to my chest, trying not to choke up at his admission. “Thanks, Dad. It means a lot to me that you would say this.”
“I was saying to Will the other day how proud I am of you. He agrees you’ve definitely got a strong head on your shoulders and are determined.”
“You talk about me to Will?” The second it comes out, I realize my tone is panicked. Scrambling to save myself, I continue, “I’m sure he has better things to discuss than some college kid.”
“You’re no longer a kid.” Dad smiles, though follows with a long-winded sigh. “You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman, one who will break some man’s heart one day.”
“Oh, so you admit that I’m not a nun?”
“Quite the comedian,” he notes with dark amusement. “If I could have my way—”
“I know, I know,” I drag, rolling my eyes. “If you could have your way, I’d be a spinster. A virgin spinster.”
“You know me well.”
I cross my arms, though, with the purpose of not looking awkward when I ask the question. “So, what does Will have to say about me? Lord knows he’s still traumatized by our childhood. I mean, you make someone scrape their leg once, and they’ll hold it against you for the rest of your life.”
“Surprisingly, he only speaks positively of you. Of course, he has his own things to worry about. We’re this close to finalizing London. If all goes well, he’ll be there in a few months.”
My stomach hardens the moment my heartbeat slows down to what feels like a complete stop. London. I have no idea how many miles away but crossing over an ocean indicates very far away. It shouldn’t come as a shock given the fact that it was raised at Thanksgiving. But I’ve deluded myself into thinking it will all change because we’re together. How stupid of me. According to my dad, I may be beautiful and intelligent, but I don’t have the power to stop a man from becoming the next billionaire.
“That sounds amazing for Will. I’m sure he’s excited to move to London.”
Dad hesitates, lost in thought. “Between you and me, I thought so too. But something has changed over the last month. He’s said a couple of things, which, if I read between the lines, indicates he wants to try to make it work from Manhattan, but it’s just not feasible. Not to mention costly. To make this work, he needs to be in London.”
“Maybe it’s just cold feet,” I suggest, though wondering if I’m the reason he’s hesitating. “He’s lived his whole life in the States. I’m assuming that moving to another country can be daunting.”
“That could be it, or he has someone here he doesn’t want to leave.”
I clear my throat. “C’mon, Dad. He’s a player. I highly doubt it.”
“You don’t know him to like to I do, sweetie. He’s changed.”
This is my chance to extract anything I can about Will’s so-called changed behavior. It isn’t exactly like I can ask Will these very questions. He’ll assume I’m clingy and desperate like most women out there.
“He looks the same to me. How do you think he’s changed?”
Dad ponders on my question, a little too long for my liking.
“His head isn’t clear as it was a few months ago. So much of him reminds me of my younger days, pre-marriage to your mother. I thought I was invincible, and no one could stop me. Then I saw her at a restaurant with another man. I knew then and there that nothing else mattered. Not a single cent of what I sacrificed to become this untouchable wealthy man,” he pauses momentarily, then continues, “And I see that exact same thing with Will.”
“Maybe it’s just a phase, Dad,” I tell him, desperate to make him think otherwise. “Maybe this woman he’s supposedly seeing is just a phase.”
“I think this one has crawled under his skin,” he admits, sure of his himself. “I warned him this would happen one day, and he joked and told me never.”
“Well, we all fall in love one day, right?”
Dad turns to face me with a knowing grin. “You’ve got time, Amelia, just focus on studying for now. All that love business will come when the time is right.”
I nod, unsure of what to say.
“Is everything okay?” Dad questions, tilting his head. “You look disappointed.”
“No, Dad.” I give him a lopsided grin, forcing myself to remain positive. “Everything you’ve said is true. I need to focus on studying. There’s always time for love later.”
Not long after, the rest of our family arrives for lunch. Andy and his family are the first to arrive. I don’t get to chat with him much since Dad wants to catch up with him, stealing all his attention.
My Uncle Noah and Kate arrive with my cousins, then shortly after, my parents’ friends. I consider Haden and Presley like family since they always attend all our family events. They have three sons, their oldest, Masen, being Ava’s age.
Then Mom’s bestie, Eric, arrives with his husband, Tristan. They don’t have children, just two dogs they take everywhere with them—Gloria and Diana. French Bulldogs with a diva-like attitude if you get near them.
“Where’s my little Gilmore Girl?” Eric calls, stretching his hands out to me.
I furrow my brows, unsure what that means. “What’s a Gilmore Girl?”
“Hello! Only the most angstier TV show of all time! Rory Gilmore, the Yale graduate.”
“Never heard of it,” Ava and I say in unison.
“Kids these days,” Eric complains before eyeing me up and down. “You’re getting laid by a man.”
My eyes widen at his assumption. “I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“My booty call radar is never off.”
“It’s true,” Aunt Adriana says, beside me. “It’s crazy how spot on he is. Like he’s a psychic of anything penis-related.”
“It’s one of my many talents,” Eric boasts, lifting his shoulders proudly.
“How about you leave my daughter alone?” Mom pushes on my shoulders, away from Eric. “Especially because Lex will hear you and chop your balls off.”
Eric places his hands on his hips. “Your husband, after twenty years, is yet to chop my balls off. I think they’re as safe as balls can get.”
Aunt Adriana shakes her head. “Okay, enough ball talk, please. I’m losing my appetite.”
“Oh, so you’re saying that Julian doesn’t like the occasional tea bagging?”
I let out an obnoxious laugh before choosing to leave this conversation. I love my aunt and uncle, but the last thing I need on my mind is their supposed sex life. Thank God Andy is nowhere around to have heard that.
The day is chaotic as it always is when everyone gets together. Yet, despite being surrounded by all my family, my talk with my dad weighs heavily on my mind.
The truth is—time is running out. According to my father, Will is destined for London.
And I’m destined for only one thing—heartbreak.
Twenty-Three
Amelia
“I need tampons.”
Ava barges into my room without a polite knock on my door, heading straight for my bathroom to raid my cabinet.
“A please would be welcomed,” I mutter under my breath.
Seconds later, Ava comes out empty-handed.
“You don’t have any?”
I shrug my shoulders, trying my best to focus on the laptop screen. The assignment is due in a few weeks, but I thought to get a head start given I’ve lost focus of late and need to get my head back into studying mode. It doesn’t help that my phone proves to be a distraction as does social media. I resort to turning my phone off entirely to focus on my paper.
> “Have you checked Mom’s bathroom?”
Curling her lip, Ava shakes her head with a look of disgust. “No, because the last time I tried, I stumbled on lubricant. It was strawberry-flavored. I mean, really, Mom and Dad are still having sex?”
I snort involuntarily, displaying a wide grin. “Really, Ava? Of course, they have sex. Don’t ever walk past their room between midnight to six in the morning. Once you’ve heard Mom moan, it’s permanently stuck in your head.”
“Gross,” Ava exclaims, wrinkling her nose while flinching. “You mean Dad can still get it up?”
“Ava!” My mouth slackens, disturbed by this conversation. “Can you not use the words ‘get it up’ and ‘Dad’ in the same sentence? Besides, he only just turned fifty-two. Mom’s still in her forties. Erectile problems usually strike in the seventies, I think.”
“Never say the word erectile to me ever again,” Ava declares, shuddering. “This doesn’t solve my tampon issue.”
“I’ll go to the drugstore to get you some. Happy?”
With a satisfied smile, she replies, “That’s what big sisters are for.”
I welcome the drive to the drugstore, stopping at a café first to grab myself a coffee. Despite the wintery season, the sun is shining, though a cool breeze warrants a sweater. It’s a nice change from the godawful snowstorm hitting the East Coast right now.
Balancing my coffee in one hand, I check my phone but still no response from Will after my rather dirty text I sent him this morning. Trying my best to ignore the rejection seeping in, I think logically and assume he’s busy with work even though it’s the day after Christmas.
Tossing away my empty cup, I grab a red basket, throwing in a couple of things I need in there before perusing the feminine products aisle. Ava didn’t even indicate what type of tampons she wants, so I send her a quick text:
Me: How big is your vagina now that you sleep around? Do you need super?