by Taryn Steele
“Yeah, I ugh, kind of threw it all together this afternoon.” Ramsey admits.
“Should we just put our beer outside on the porch since it’s so cold outside and save you room in the fridge?” I ask.
“Yes, Hillary. That would be great. And could you make the spiked egg-nog for me?”
“You got it.”
Within minutes our friends start showing up, food is being nibbled on and drinks are being guzzled. Ramsey started a bright, glowing fire in the fireplace. It looked beautiful with the stockings hung on the mantle.
Aleyshia found Jim Carey’s “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas” on cable so she claimed her spot on the couch for the night with her beer and snacks. Kayla is helping Ramsey by finishing up the ornaments on the tree that he didn’t get to. Lily and Bevan are hanging out with Jameson and myself in the kitchen. We refuse to leave the kitchen since we can’t keep our hands off of the meatballs, chicken wings and chips.
“This is so much fun! We should do this every year.” Lily exclaims.
“I wonder how many people got raunchy grab bag Christmas gifts.” I wonder.
“Surprisingly, I think everyone got normal gifts.” Bevan says.
“Ramsey! Can I add more wood to the fire?” Aleyshia’s boyfriend Jack shouts.
“No Jack! You are a walking disaster. I’ll do it.” Jameson exclaims.
11:35 p.m.
“I’m going outside to smoke a cigarette. Come with me?” Jameson asks me. I nod and follow.
“Having a good time pretty lady?”
“Yes I am, cute drunk boy.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Whatever. Are you having a good time?”
“I am. I’m having a great time. I’m so happy to be here with you and all of our friends. One thing would make this night better though.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Will you marry me?”
“WHAT? NO!”
“Why not?”
“What? Because! We’ve only been together for a couple of months. We haven’t even had sex! And you’re drunk.”
“No, I’m not!”
“Oh-my-god! You totally are! I’m going inside. I’m cold.”
Jameson follows me inside and heads towards the bathroom. I immediately head straight to the kitchen for more alcohol. My adrenaline has sky rocketed from Jameson’s drunken proposal.
Ramsey comes in to the kitchen. “Hillary, is Jameson okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because I heard him puking in the bathroom.”
“Oh crap!” I slam my beer bottle down on the kitchen counter and make my way towards the bathroom. Just as I’m about to knock on the door Jameson opens it, stepping out.
“Were you throwing up in there?” I ask.
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me. I can smell it on your breath.”
“Fine. I threw up but I feel fine now. I just did too many shots. I’m going to drink coffee or water for the rest of the night. I have to drive home still.”
“You promise you’ll stop drinking tonight?”
“I promise.”
1:36 a.m.
It’s getting late, the party is winding down and I’m getting tired. It’s time to go home. I start making the rounds giving hugs goodbye.
“I warmed up your car already. You ready to go?” Jameson asks.
“Aw, thanks babe. Yes, I’m ready.”
Sauntering to my car, Jameson grabs my hand rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. It’s just a small thing but I love it so much.
“Before you go, you sure you don’t want to change your answer about my proposal?” Jameson asks with a devilish grin.
“Oh-my-god! No way! You’re insane! Now give me a kiss so I can go because I’m freezing out here.”
“Fine. Call me when you get home.”
About a half of a mile down the road the veracity of Jameson’s proposal hit me. I immediately crack my window and light up a cigarette. Every conceivable thought that could run through my mind did. Does he really want to marry me? Why didn’t he have a ring? Was it just the alcohol talking? Will he ever ask me again? Why did I say no? This could be the one and only time I ever get asked in my entire life! I smoke cigarette after cigarette after cigarette.
Ten minutes later I’m pulling in to my driveway and I call Jameson to let him know I’m home. I’d rather do it now then when I’m inside and risk the chance of waking my parents up. There’s no answer, so I leave him a message letting him know I made it home and to call me when he gets home so I know he’s safe.
By some grace of God I’m not locked out. When I’m in my room I look at my phone, Jameson hasn’t called me back yet. He was right behind me when we left Ramsey’s house. Where is he?
Panic is setting in. I start pacing in my small bedroom. And when I say small, I mean small, ten feet by ten feet small. That is just a couple of feet larger than an average jail cell. Now add a bureau, a treadmill, and a twin size bed that I’ve had since I was a small child because my parents refused to buy me a new one. Imagine sleeping on an almost twenty-year-old mattress with springs and coils piercing you with every twist and turn you make. Back and forth, back and forth, twisting my hair in one hand and cracking my knuckles with my other. I pick up my phone wanting to call him again. I just stare at it, unable to dial his number imagining all of the horrific possible things that could have happened. Car accident, arrested for drunk driving, or broken down on a deserted road with no cell phone service. My hands are quivering. I can’t move my fingers to dial his number.
Ring! Bzzzzz! Ring! Bzzzzz! Ring! Bzzzz!
I squeal with nervous energy as the phone drops out of my hands from the unexpected vibrating and ringing that came from it. I drop to my knees to retrieve it from the floor.
“Hello? Jameson?”
“Hey babe. I’m home.”
“What the fuck took you so long? I have been a nervous fucking wreck! I called you! You didn’t answer! Why didn’t you answer?”
I can feel it…The tears are about to start pouring…
“I stopped at the store to get a drink and I ran in to someone I know. I didn’t have my phone on me, so I didn’t know you tried calling.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ! I was freaking out over here! I thought you got in to an accident or arrested for drunk driving!”
“I’m sorry babe. I’m okay. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“So, who did you run in to at the store?” I wondered.
“Um, Pam.”
“Pam, your ex-girlfriend Pam?”
“Yeah.”
A strange feeling fills me up inside. “She doesn’t even live around here Jameson. What was she doing following you?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re home safe and I’m home safe. Right? I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted. Make sure you take two aspirin before you go to sleep so you don’t wake up with a headache from drinking tonight.”
“Alright. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’m glad you made it home safe.”
“Goodnight babe.”
He saw Pam. The very serious long-time girlfriend before his mini hook-up with Ally. That’s why he didn’t answer his phone. That’s why he got home late. That’s the reason I was freaking out. It was Pam. My fists tighten. Is she going to become a problem? I don’t know much about their relationship. I only know the few things Tess told me when we talked. I have never asked Jameson. As a matter of fact, he’s never asked me about my past relationships either. All I know is they dated for a couple of years, but I also know that Pam and Jameson’s mom Marcie did not get along.
WAKING UP THE NEXT MORNING my head didn’t hurt as much as I expected. Maybe because I got more sleep than I thought I would, and the fact that it wasn’t morning it was actually one o’clock in the afternoon. Rolling out of bed and stumbling my way down the hall to get a much needed glass of orange juice all the while praying we actually had o
range juice in the refrigerator. As I round the corner in to the kitchen I find my mother on her knees in front of the refrigerator cleaning it out.
“Well, look who finally decided to join the land of the living,” she says.
“Yup.”
“So, how was your party? Did you get any good gifts?”
“It wasn’t about gifts mother. It was about having a fun night with our friends. We just did simple grab bags. I told you that.”
“Oh, I know. I just thought …”
“It was fun and a bit interesting…” I stop myself from finishing the sentence. I want to tell her about Jameson proposing but I feel conflicted. She’s my mother, I should be able to tell her anything. I want to tell her. I want to have one of those moments I hear my friends talk about and see on television. That’s not us though, never has been.
“What do you mean interesting?”
“Jameson proposed to me last night?” I say, with hope of having one of those moments.
“What? Are you fricking kidding me?” She says, angrily.
“No, I’m not kidding.” Why is she mad, I wonder to myself?
“What did you say?”
“I said no.”
“Oh thank God! He’s crazy!”
So much for that moment. I turned around and went back to my bedroom. The orange juice I wanted was no longer a concern. Closing my door I sit on the end of my bed, my elbows on my knees, my hands cupping my face and I just shake my head in dismay. What just happened there in that conversation? She was angry? She thinks he’s crazy for wanting to marry me? I thought she’d be happy. All she talks about is wanting me to move out. This would be her opportunity. Fuck my life.
“If he doesn’t buy you gifts, he doesn’t love you.”
December 24, 2001
BACK IN THE DAY, if you went to my grandparents’ house on my mother’s side, you would see my grandfather sitting at a small wooden desk in his den, glasses on doing a crossword puzzle. In the same house at the same time you would find my grandmother doing the laundry, cooking, and cleaning the house all at once. You could hear my mother and two of her sisters arguing, complaining or crying about something in the background. Now, while they don’t claim to be old school Italian I think they scream it!
At my grandparents’ house on my dad’s side everyone is Polish, proud, and pulling their weight. Everyone is working just as hard as the next person. No one is arguing, no one is crying and no one is complaining.
I will not deny that I have some similar qualities to my mom’s side. I will argue with you to prove my point but I will not start crying over it. I have too many memories of seeing and hearing my mother cry over everything and I refuse to be like that. I feel like it makes her look like such a weak person. She can never do anything on her own, she never tries. I don’t want to be co-dependent like that.
Would I like a hug every now and then? Sure a little emotion never killed anybody, but I won’t get that from my dad’s side of the family. They just aren’t like that. I won’t get it from anyone in my own house either for that matter. Certainly not from my mom. My dad will wrap an arm around me for a kind of half hug squeeze thing but that’s about it. You definitely won’t hear ‘I love you’ in my house, either. That thought is actually laughable.
Christmas Eve at the Nowal’s – my dad’s side – is full of smiles, laughter, food, drinks, people of all ages and good ol’ holiday cheer. If there weren’t any gifts everyone would leave just as happy as when they arrived. That wasn’t the case, there were always gifts for everyone, but they didn’t matter. The company and conversation is what we enjoyed. Grandma and Grandpa Nowal were so happy to have everyone in the house at the same time. The kitchen in their home was a good size but they only had one small, round table that only sat four people. On Christmas Eve there are at least twenty-five people. We might not have been able to eat dinner together at the same table or in the same room even, but it didn’t matter. We were all under the same roof and just as happy.
Christmas Eve is one of my top three favorite celebrations (first is my birthday and second is Halloween). I’ve always liked Christmas Eve more than Christmas Day. Always. Ever since I can remember, Christmas Eve was always spent with my dad’s side of the family, and Christmas Day with my mom’s side.
Jameson said he’ll stop over to my house on Christmas night on his drive home from his mom’s family. His parents have been divorced for many years so he’s used to running around on the holidays. This will actually be his first time at my house. Oh my god! He’s coming to my house. He’s going to meet my parents. Fuck!
December 25, 2001
I’m in my bedroom sitting on my bed holding my phone in my hand. Jameson just called and said he’d be at my house in thirty minutes. We got home a while ago from my grandparent’s house and now my parents’ friends are all here, hanging out in the living room. This too, is more enjoyable then being with my mother’s family. The afternoon at my grandparents was spent listening to my mother’s relatives try to come across as more entitled than the next person, eye rolls about presents they didn’t like, for which they were also completely ungrateful, and sitting on uncomfortable plastic covered furniture. For the most part, I like my parents’ friends and I’d rather be anywhere then back with my mom’s family, but I’m content in my room right now.
Like clockwork Jameson is at the house within thirty minutes. I open the front door to let him in and while everyone kept up their conversations they were a lot quieter with their eyes on Jameson. I’m not sure if it was because he was the new boyfriend or if it was the enormous black garbage bag in his hand.
He wasn’t shy at all. He had a big smile on his face, waved hello to everyone and wished them all a ‘Merry Christmas’. I just stood there, smiled and dragged him by his hand down the hallway to my bedroom.
“So this is your room?”
“Yep, small huh?”
“You still have a twin bed?”
“Yep, small huh?”
“Is that all you’re going to say or do I get a Merry Christmas and a kiss?” he says while slowly stepping closer to me with the most adorable yet devilish grin on his face.
“Well that depends on if you’ll open your present first or not.” I say, coyly.
“Kiss first.”
He smashes his lips to mine without even offering me the opportunity to think, let alone respond. His lips are cold from the cool winter air but sweet as if he was eating Christmas delicacies before he came here. It’s stimulating, like an Andes Mint, icy cool from the mint and sweet from the chocolate.
“Mmm. That was a very tasty kiss, Mr. Michaels,” I say, licking my lips.
“I had some sweets at Grandma’s before I left.”
“Sit,” I say, pointing to my bed.
“Damn Hillary. You sleep on this?”
“Yes.” My head drops down, I feel embarrassed.
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make fun of you or anything but I can feel the springs in my ass. How long have you had this? Why don’t you buy a new one?”
“I don’t know, since I was a kid. All the mattresses I’ve seen are like hundreds of dollars. I have a car payment and rent here, so I don’t really have the spare money.”
“You never told me your parent’s charge you rent?”
“Not parents. Mom. Just my mom. My dad would never. Enough talking, open your present.”
I had no idea what to get him or how much to spend. All those questions you ask yourself when you’re in a new relationship, and that first big gift giving holiday arrives. What if you spend more than he does? Does that mean you like him more than he likes you? What if you get him something he doesn’t like?
“This is heavy? What it is?” he asks, looking quizzically at it.
“You have to open it silly.”
“I think I’m kind of scared to.”
“You ass! Just open it.” I slap on the arm, jokingly.
He carefully tears off the wrapping pape
r as if he plans on reusing it for another day. Pulls the folds on the box, takes out the tissue paper I used to make it look pretty and he smiles. SCORE!
“How did you know?” He pulls out the new floor mats for his Mustang.
“You were talking about how much you needed new floor mats one day. I pay attention. I hope these are okay. I wasn’t exactly sure what you wanted, so I saved the receipt if you want to exchange them.”
“No, not at all. These are perfect. Thank you.” He grins up at me, giddy.
“Alright smart girl, your turn.”
“A big, black garbage bag, huh?” I say with a big smile so he knows I’m not disgusted and I’m just trying to be funny.
“Yeah, yeah. Well I didn’t know how to wrap it and couldn’t find a gift bag big enough.” He admits.
I don’t attempt to undo the triple knot he tied on the bag, so I just tear a hole in the side and rip each end apart. Once I get a look at the side of the gift I see turquoise fur and I smile. I turn my head to look at Jameson. He’s smiling. He knows I know what it is already without seeing the entire thing.
“Where on earth did you find this?”
“Take it out!” He orders.
“He’s so heavy!”
I finish tearing apart the rest of the bag and with both hands pull on to my lap the biggest turquoise stuffed animal I have ever seen. Sully from Monsters Inc., the first movie Jameson and I cuddled up together and watched over and over and over again two weeks ago. This is the best present. I can cuddle with it at night and pretend its Jameson when we aren’t together.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it! It’s so soft. Thank you.”
“What do you say we go out in the living room and be social?” Jameson suggests.
“I’ve been good at keeping guys away from my house and my parents in fear of, I don’t know what. Embarrassment? I don’t know. If you can handle the possible stares and questions?”
“I don’t scare easy. I’m quite a charmer, actually.”
“Hah! Alright Charming Charlie, let’s get this over with.”