I hugged my mom tight. We both cried, together.
“I am so proud of you, Denver!” she wept.
I nodded. She was right. I didn’t want to be Declan, or Declan’s sister. I yearned for my own identity. I yearned to carve my own path. I wanted to be Denver!
“Thanks! I love you too,” I whispered between sobs.
Mom held my head. She kissed the top, and rustled my hair. “I better get back.” She pecked my cheek. “See you in a bit? When you are ready.”
I agreed. She squeezed my hand, then walked back to our guests.
I wiped at my eyes with my fingers. I waited, a few minutes, before running up to my room to fix my blotchy, tear stained face. This was my year. The year of Denver. I was ready for a change.
Chapter 25
Declan
“I-I-I n-n-n-e-e-e-d t-t-t-o t-t-t-a-a-a-lk t-t-t-o ya-ya-ou.”
I put my hand on Mama’s arm to get her attention.
“Not now, Declan, I’m busy.” She walked around the room smiling, handing out gifts to our family and friends.
I followed her. “B-B-B-u-u-u-t, I-I-I w-w-wa-a-a-nt t-t-t-o t-t-t-e-e-e-ll ya-ya-ou s-s-s-omething.”
“Now is not the time, dear.”
“B-B-B-u-u-u-t w-w-w-when? I-I-I’ve b-b-b-een t-t-t-r-r-r-ying t-t-t-o t-t-t-ell ya-ya-ou f-f-f-o-o-o-r a-a-a f-f-f-e-e-e-w d-d-d-a-a-a-ys n-n-n-o-o-o-w.”
I realized it was not becoming, but I had to get this out. I needed to unload, and get it off my chest. Mama needed to hear this.
“Declan, please. Can’t it wait?”
She brushed me off, avoiding this confrontation.
“I-I-I’m m-m-m-o-o-o-ving out!” I blurted out.
Mama stopped in her tracks. Her jaw dropped. The last few gifts fell from her hands. She fumbled, bent down, and caught them before they reached the ground, super-mama style.
“Declan,” she wept. “Now’s not the time to discuss this, please.”
“N-N-N-o-o-o-w i-i-i-s the t-t-t-i-i-i-me, M-m-m-a-a-a-m-m-m-a-a-a. I-I-I-f n-n-n-o-o-o-t n-n-n-o-o-o-w, th-e-e-e-n wa-wa-wa . . .” Before I could finish “when” she looped her arm around mine, and dragged me off to the kitchen to discuss this matter alone.
Once we arrived, Mama dropped my arm, threw her hands up in the air, and cried.
“S-S-S-t-t-t-o-o-o-p, p-p-p-l-l-l-ease, s-s-s-t-t-t-t-o-o-o-p c-c-c-crying.”
I bent down, and tenderly kissed her on the top of her head.
“Declan, we need to discuss your decision. Your father and I don’t take these matters lightly. I realize you have reached adulthood, but that doesn’t determine whether or not you are ready to live independently from your family. Living alone is a great responsibility that requires a whole lot of skills. Cleaning. Bill paying. Shopping and nutrition. Being observant enough to turn off lights, ovens, and unplugging toasters.”
“W-W-W-e-e-e-ll, ya-ya-ou a-a-a-re i-i-i-n l-l-l-u-u-uck, I-I-I h-h-h-a-a-a-ve a-a-a- j-j-j-o-o-o-b c-c-c-leaning t-t-t-toilets! I-I-I’ve g-g-g-o-o-o-t a-a-a l-l-l-o-o-o-t o-o-o-f p-p-p-practice i-i-i-n th-h-h-a-a-a-t a-a-a-rena.”
“Declan, you almost burned down the house once making your sister some toast.”
“I-I-I w-w-w-a-a-a-s t-t-t-e-e-e-n. W-W-W-hich i-i-i-s p-p-p-r-r-r-e-e-e-tty n-n-n-o-o-o-rmal f-f-f-o-o-o-r a-a-a-nyo-o-o-ne th-a-a-a-t a-a-a-ge! W-W-W-hen w-w-w-i-i-i-ll ya-ya-ou d-d-d-r-r-r-o-o-o-p th-a-a-a-t?”
“Most young men your age are still in college, very much like yourself. Even if they are living in a dorm, they are not ready to permanently move out of their parents’ homes. In fact, most people your age aren’t ready to leave their parents until well after they find their first job. Nowadays, it takes a lot longer for most young people to achieve independence, especially financial independence. That same independence you crave, some don’t even reach that level until their mid to late twenties.”
“W-W-W-e-e-e-ll, ya-ya-ou’re i-i-i-n l-l-l-u-u-u-ck a-a-a-again, c-c-c-a-a-a-use I-I-I’m a-a-a m-m-mo-o-o-del! A-A-As ya-ya-ou have r-r-r-e-e-e-minded m-m-m-e-e-e, a-a-a v-v-v-e-e-e-ry s-s-s-u-u-u-ccessful one a-a-a-t th-a-a-a-t. I-I-I’ve g-g-g-o-o-o-t th-e-e-e m-m-m-eans t-t-t-o a-a-a-f-f-f-ord i-i-i-t!”
I threw in the fact that I was doing well financially, especially since Mama had dutifully encouraged me to go full force taking jobs. She insisted I continue pursing modeling jobs as long as my career allowed. Besides, every dime I earned went directly into my savings, which my parents frowned upon me touching. That had led to my decision to take a part-time job at the gym. I needed money so that I could take Poppy out on proper dates, and I needed a way into the work world for when my popularity as a face on a wall waned, and a new, hot kid replaced me.
“Is this because of Poppy?” Mama questioned me. “Because she is way too young for this moving out thing. Besides, I know you, Declan, I know how you think. Her parents are not going to let you swoop her away, and get married at this age. She’s a baby.”
My face flushed. My fingers wiggled.
“I-I-I’m n-n-n-o-o-o-t g-g-g-o-o-o-ing t-t-t-o m-m-m-a-a-a-rry h-h-h-e-e-e-r . . . y-y-y-e-e-e-t,” I insisted, although, the thought had crossed my mind. I wasn’t going to lie to myself.
“Poppy’s parents are not going to let their daughter spend time alone with you, unchaperoned, in some apartment,” Mama lectured. “They want her to concentrate on her schooling, not take care of her boyfriend who moved out too soon.”
“S-S-S-he d-d-d-o-o-o-esn’t h-h-h-a-a-a-ve t-t-t-o t-t-t-ake c-c-c-a-a-a-re of m-m-m-e-e-e. I-I-I a-a-a-m-m-m g-g-g-o-o-o-ing t-t-t-o t-t-t-a-a-a-ke c-c-c-a-a-a-re of h-h-h-er. S-S-S-She’s n-n-n-o-o-o-t a-a-a b-b-b-a-a-a-by, I-I-I’m n-n-n-o-o-o-t a-a-a b-b-b-a-a-a-by either! I-I-I’m r-r-r-eady, a-a-a-nd, I-I-I’m l-l-l-eaving, s-s-s-o-o-o-o-n!”
“But . . . I’m not ready,” Mama wept in a small voice. Tears rolled down her cheeks
Finally, the truth. She wasn’t ready for me to leave.
I walked over, and pulled her into my arms. I hugged her tight.
“My baby, my Declan. You’re my baby. My special baby. I always knew you would grow up, and move away! But, I didn’t think it would come this soon. Since you were little, I assumed you would need me forever, or, at least, for a very long time. But you surprised me. You surprised us all with your will, and your persistence to make magical things happen. To beat the odds, and defy all stereotypes. So, I guess, I’m the one who’s not ready to release you, and say goodbye.”
“S-S-S-i-i-i-lly M-m-m-a-a-a-m-m-m-a-a-a, I-I-I’m n-n-n-o-o-o-t s-s-s-a-a-a-ying g-g-g-goodbye. I-I-I’m j-j-j-u-u-u-st m-m-m-moving d-d-d-o-o-o-wn th-e-e-e s-s-s-street, t-t-t-o a-a-a s-s-m-m-m-a-a-a-ll a-a-a-p-p-p-a-a-a-rtment. I-I-I’ll p-p-p-r-r-r-o-o-o-bably c-c-c-o-o-o-me o-o-o-v-v-v-er f-f-f-o-o-o-r d-d-d-dinner e-e-e-very n-n-n-i-i-i-ght th-a-a-a-t I-I-I’m i-i-i-n t-t-t-o-o-o-wn, b-b-b-e-e-e-cause n-n-n-o-o-o one c-c-c-o-o-o-ks l-l-l-i-i-i-ke ya-ya-ou d-d-do. And, and, and, P-o-o-o-ppy c-c-c-a-a-a-n v-v-v-i-i-i-sit m-m-m-e-e-e h-h-h-e-e-e-re. I-I-I w-w-w-ould n-n-n-e-e-e-ver d-d-d-o a-a-a-nything t-t-t-o j-j-j-e-e-e-opardize o-o-o-ur r-r-r-e-e-e-lationship! E-E-E-v-v-v-er!”
“Okay,” Mama cried. She pulled me in tighter.
We stood in the middle of the kitchen, mother and son, hugging, sharing a moment. The din from the family room persisted. The merrymakers celebrated with their new bobbles and trinkets. I wondered what show played on the TV in the den. I wondered if I was missing an episode of Batman. My palms sweated. I wondered if Peter sat in front of the TV without me with Dancer. Then, I wondered where Poppy was.
I suddenly remembered, I had to share my news with her as well. I had struggled all Christmas to remember to talk to Poppy about moving out. The words popped in my head, and disappeared in a flash, as other ideas took over my plans. Maybe I was too scared to tell her. Maybe I was frightened about how she would react, like when I told her I was canceli
ng my next gig to spend time with her. But since Mama and I had our talk, I was ready to include Poppy in my plans. She was my future.
I released Mama, and took a step back. Mama straightened out her crumpled clothing.
“I should get our Christmas dinner ready,” she sniffed. “I made all of your favorites! Please, go get your father, would you? He and I need to have a long talk while we prepare the food.”
Mama smiled. She winked at me through her tears.
I bowed, and nodded. I exited the kitchen to find Dada, and then talk to Poppy about our plans.
“D-D-D-a-a-a-d-d-d-a-a-a, M-m-m-a-a-a-m-m-m-a-a-a,” was all I could muster.
I pointed toward the kitchen. He smiled, and nodded, as if he had a sixth sense and understood he was about to face Mama to have a serious conversation.
Poppy! Her name exploded on my tongue like fizzy candy. Pop! Pop! The thought of her tickled. Where was she?
I looked around the room. Faces. Too many faces. None of them matched Poppy’s. I searched. I walked around the open boxes, and empty bags. I avoided the mountains of ribbons, and wrappings. Dancer barked from behind a closed door. Someone probably accidentally locked him in a room again. He scratched the wood to find his way out, and escape into the crowd. But no Poppy. I couldn’t see her. I couldn’t find her. I didn’t want to call out her name, and stammer into the room only to disturb the fun. I just wanted to locate her.
I headed to the den. I poked my face through the door. Peter crunched loudly on candy, the noised echoed, annoying my eardrums. He stared blankly at the wide screen, eyes glued to the television, like a zombie. He sat motionless. I paused to make sure my show wasn’t on. It wasn’t. A Christmas special, set on repeat, rolled across the tube for the fifth time today. I exhaled, relieved I didn’t miss anything important. Then, my mind snapped back to my task. I needed to find Poppy.
Retracing my steps, I doubled back to the family room. I passed the stairwell. Someone sniffled, sucking up bubbly snot. I recognized that gurgle-nose noise anywhere. I turned to face a red-eyed Poppy. She darted toward me. With her lips curled into a frown, I also recognized the crushed look on her little face.
Angry fire shot through my blood, momentarily paralyzing me.
“W-W-W-hat h-h-h-a-a-a-ppened?” I roared.
Chapter 26
Dexx
The gift cards gave off a bittersweet vibe. I turned them around in my hand. I took a closer look. Denver inscribed the dollar amount, and signed her name in black pen with tiny drawings of musical notes. How cute! How adorable! How thoughtful! How perfect! How awful was I to have come empty-handed to the Davies house? Where were my manners?
At first, I blamed my mother for not providing me any sort of token offering. Afterwards, I blamed myself for my own thoughtless behavior. How could I be so thoughtless?
How could Denver afford to be so generous? I was pretty much set with coffee for the entire year if this dollar amount was accurate. Perhaps her brother chipped in. Her parents. Poppy. I stewed. Embarrassed. Ashamed.
Poppy. I looked around. Denver and Declan seemed to have disappeared. Poppy sat alone a few feet away from me. She lifted her small trunk of lipstick to admire, and ogle the colors. She smiled goofily to herself. Her buckteeth poked from her lips. So endearing!
With the absence of the Davies children, the two of us were practically alone. Practically. I crawled closer to her.
“Poppy.”
I grabbed her hand which she withdrew instantaneously.
“Poppy,” I started again, “I made a little something for you for Christmas, Chanukah, um . . .”
“Both?”
“Ha, ha, yeah, both,” I chuckled, nervous. “Do you mind coming upstairs with me so I can show you?”
“Uh, sure, I do not mind. I guess,” she answered awkwardly.
Hesitant, she paused before standing. Her slightly buckteeth jutted further out of her mouth. She weighed her options. Finally, she rose up off the ground, and tagged along behind me.
As we climbed the stairs, my first instinct was to grab her hand again. I imagined holding it tight would feel so lovely. I needed to give her my gift. I needed to confess to her how I felt. How I’d transformed. I stopped in front of my guestroom, and pushed the door open. Poppy peered inside, but refused to budge. I inched closer to her. She stepped back. I no longer cared.
“Poppy,” I exploded, “you are so beautiful.”
“What?”
“The first time I saw you, you took my breath away with your amazing moves, and your gorgeous face.”
“When was the first time you saw me?”
“I haven’t been able to think straight. You constantly pop up in my mind. I can’t shake you from my thoughts. I felt like I was falling madly, deeply in love with you. I spent a very long time making something very special for you. I put my whole heart, and soul into this gift for such a sweet flower like yourself.”
“What you are talking about, Dexx? When exactly was the very first time you saw me? In elementary school?”
“Huh?”
“We’ve grown up together, you know. Remember? Was it in elementary school when you first saw me? Or, was it the other day, when you rammed into me at school in the hall, quite unapologetically, I must say, and ruined my project, splattering me in glitter? Was that the first time you saw me? Or did you not see me at all, Dexx?”
“What?”
“Why are you doing this to me?” Real tears streamed down her face. “Is this just another one of your cruel tricks? A mean joke?”
“A joke? Why would this be a joke? I confessed my feelings for you!”
“I get it! I’m weird! I’m a loser! My goofy boyfriend has Asperger’s. I’m not ignorant to how you see me, how you see us. But, I’m not ashamed! I love who I am, and I love who Declan is. But, Dexx, I’m trying real hard to love all, without labels. And . . . Dexx . . . you are making it so, so hard for me to love you right now!” Poppy screamed.
Lines of mascara streaked down her cheek. She twisted around, and ran away from me before I could explain, or even give her my gift. The one I worked so hard to make.
“But, I love you,” I called after her weakly.
It was too late. I royally screwed up this opportunity. I realized what might follow, a whole lot of hurt feelings, an aftershock of trickledown backlash, and pain, from my ill-timed and ill-thought-out actions.
My stomach dropped. It gurgled from my big breakfast. Bile crawled up my throat. I struggled to hold down the vomit. My skin prickled, terrified by the miserable domino effect I started by confronting Poppy with my confession. My eyes watered.
I hurt her. Who would I hurt next? I didn’t mean to, I told myself, I didn’t mean to. I’m not that kind of person, I reassured myself. She’ll see.
Poppy clip-clopped down the steps. The sound from her weeping trailed behind her. I remained frozen in front of my guestroom, miserable from my decision.
Loud, angry stomping replaced Poppy’s light footsteps. A very heated, very angry Declan rose up the banister. My head swirled with fright, dizzy, and discombobulated.
Declan knit his brows. His eyes seethed. He stared me down, agitated with my presence in his home, associating with his girlfriend.
“W-W-W-Why?” he stuttered.
“Why?” my voice cracked.
“I-I-I t-t-t-r-r-r-u-u-u-sted ya-ya-ou! W-W-W-Why d-d-d-i-i-i-d ya-ya-ou d-d-d-o th-a-a-a-t? T-T-T-o m-m-m-e-e-e? T-T-T-o P-o-o-o-ppy? T-T-T-o m-m-m-y s-s-s-i-i-i-ster? O-O-O-n C-C-C-Christmas! O-O-O-f all h-h-h-o-o-o-lidays, m-m-m-y f-f-f-avorite one! Ya-ya-ou d-d-d-deceived us! D-D-D-o ya-ya-ou th-i-i-i-nk ya-ya-ou are th-e-e-e f-f-f-i-i-irst g-g-g-u-u-u-y t-t-t-o come kn-n-n-o-o-o-cking o-o-o-n th-e-e-e d-d-d-o-o-o-r t-t-t-o d-d-d-a-a-a-te P-o-o-o-ppy? D-D-D-o ya-ya-ou? S-S-s-he h-h-h-a-a-a-s g-g-g-u-u-u-
ys f-f-f-rom a-a-a-ll o-o-o-ver th-e-e-e w-w-w-o-o-o-rld c-c-c-r-r-r-a-a-a-wling o-o-o-ut o-o-o-f th-e-e-e w-w-w-o-o-o-dwork! I-I-I-t’s e-e-e-ven w-w-w-o-o-o-rse w-w-w-hen th-e-e-e-y kn-o-o-o-w I-I-I’m a-a-a model! D-D-D-i-i-i-d ya-ya-ou kn-o-o-o-w th-a-a-a-t? Th-a-a-a-t m-m-m-akes th-e-e-e-m w-w-w-ant t-t-t-o t-t-t-a-a-a-ke h-h-h-e-e-e-r even m-m-m-o-o-o-re. Wh-a-a-a-t a-a-a v-v-v-victory, t-t-t-a-a-a-king a-a-a g-g-g-irl f-f-f-from a model! And, and, and n-n-n-o-o-o-w, ya-ya-ou w-w-w-a-a-a-nt t-t-t-o t-t-t-a-a-a-ke h-e-e-e-r t-t-t-oo! W-W-W-Why? L-L-L-o-o-o-k a-a-a-t m-m-m-e-e-e! I-I-I c-c-c-can’t c-c-c-compete!” he raged, tearfully.
I stood silent. Stunned. Astounded that he didn’t think he could compete, against me! The great and beautiful, perfect and flawless, Declan Davies. The superstar with fifty thousand fans. The dauntless superhero who was more amazing than the real thing. The larger than life model whose images graced the walls of the world. He couldn’t compete against me? Measly me? Plain and ordinary Dexx, less than perfect Dexx? Dexx the DJ wanna be? How could that even be possible?
Guilt ate away at my churning breakfast. My belly grumbled loudly, announcing my nerves to the echoing walls in the dark hallway. My head spun, making me queasy.
“P-o-o-o-ppy a-a-and I-I-I j-j-j-u-u-u-st s-s-s-t-t-t-a-a-a-rted d-d-d-a-a-a-ting. I-I-I n-n-n-e-e-e-d t-t-t-o h-h-h-o-o-o-ld o-o-o-n t-t-t-o h-h-h-e-e-e-r.”
Declan clenched his jaw, and wrung his shaky hands. His eyes rolled up into his skull. His mouth opened, and closed like a hungry carp, wordless and tense.
I squirmed, uncomfortable with the situation I created. I wished I could dissolve into a fine vapor, and poof, disappear.
Poppies for Christmas Page 24