by Jamie Canosa
“Hold that thought.” He dropped another quick kiss on my lips before hurrying down the hallway toward the beckoning call.
“He’s right, you know.” Startled by the unexpected voice I spun around to find our private moment hadn’t been quite as private as we’d both thought. Caulder laid sprawled out on one of the sofas in the living room, book lying open across his chest. “You don’t laugh enough.”
With that, he picked up his book and resumed reading. Sometimes I had a really hard time understanding him.
“I’ve got an idea.” Kiernan came bounding down the hallway, stopping mere inches short of the bodily collision I’d been bracing for.
Witnessing one of his genuine smiles and not returning it was impossible. Something had certainly put him in a good mood.
“Good news?” I tipped my head toward the kitchen where I knew the house phone hung on the wall beside the refrigerator.
“Oh, no. That was just Mom. She’s covering someone’s shift, so she’s gonna be home late. No big deal.”
I honestly had to wonder why the woman worked at all. It’s not like they needed the money. The only conclusion I could come to was that she honestly loved her job. She didn’t mind being puked, peed, and bled on because she genuinely wanted to help people. Mrs. Parks truly was a saint.
“So what’s this big idea?” I smiled up at him, knowing that if it made him that happy, I’d do just about anything he wanted.
“I want to go somewhere. Do something. Together.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just go make some memories.”
“Another adventure?”
“Yeah.” His eyes lit up like the fourth of July. “And I know just the place. Come on.”
***
“Oh no.” Oh hell no. I eyed the snow white mountain ahead of us like the deathtrap it was. “You can’t be serious.”
“Come on. It’ll be fun. Trust me.”
What in his experiences with me in gym class led him to believe I was even vaguely capable of something like this?
“No way. If even one of your brain cells thinks I’m strapping a couple thin slabs of wood to my feet and sailing down the side of a mountain, it must be diseased.”
Kiernan blinked at me and then burst out laughing so hard he doubled over the steering wheel.
“Oh, Jade,” he gasped before losing it all over again.
I didn’t know why. Nothing I’d said had been a joke. “I’m serious!”
“First of all . . .” He took a couple deep breaths and another small chuckle escaped before he was able to put a cork in it. “I don’t think skis have been made of wood in a few decades. And secondly, as much as I’d love to watch you roll down the side of a mountain in the snow with me right there behind you, that’s not why we’re here.”
“It’s not?” Not that I wasn’t glad to hear it, but we were at a ski resort, what else was there really to do if not ski?
I followed his outstretched finger to a sign that read ‘Night Tubing’ and breathed a sigh of relief. Tubing I could handle. I’d never been, but it actually looked like fun. And how much damage could I do to myself sitting in a big, fat, inflatable tube?
Kiernan pulled out an extra coat from the trunk and it didn’t take much persuading to get me to put it on over my flimsy jacket. The sun was beginning to drop and with it, the temperature. Gloves came next, a few sizes too big, and a hat I had to roll several times to keep on my head, but when all was said and done, I was snug as a bug even with the wind whipping up snow all around us.
The line was immense. Evidently, night tubing was a popular event. We had to wait almost twenty minutes to get a double tube and another ten to make it up the hill. From the bottom, it hadn’t looked all that high, but riding up on the pulley line, it seemed to never end. We just got higher and higher until the people waiting at the bottom looked like little more than ants. I hadn’t had cause to discover this before that moment, but it turned out I was afraid of heights.
“Holy crap.” I grabbed Kiernan’s hand in a death grip.
“Scared?” Kiernan nudged me with his elbow, dragging my focus away from the source of my fear.
“A little.” The quiver in my voice gave that up for the load of crap it was. I was about two seconds away from potentially peeing my pants.
“Don’t be.” His smile eased my racing pulse. Prying my fingers loose, he flipped his hand over and threaded them through his. “I’ve got you.”
“I thought you said you were afraid of heights.” Why was I the only one making a fool of myself up there?
“I used to be. Before I realized there were scarier things to be afraid of. Besides, it’s not how high we are that I’m thinking about right now.” Warmth flooded his gaze, melting my heart.
I gave his fingers a squeeze, not that I’m sure he noticed with so much padding between us, and the next thing I knew, we were being dragged away from the pulley line. We’d made it all the way to the top without me even noticing. An employee decked out in company logo outerwear, pushed us over the slick snow toward the drop point and the sudden increase in my breathing had nothing to do with the look Kiernan was giving me.
“Hey, look at me.” My gaze fell back to the boy holding my hand and he cocked a brow. “Would I have brought you here if I didn’t think you’d enjoy it?”
“No.”
“Do you trust me?”
I trusted him with the most precious, fragile thing I had. My heart. “Yes.”
“Then hold on tight, because here we go.” One of his hundred-watt smiles lit of his face, distracting me from the shove the overeager employee gave us, sending us soaring down the mountainside.
The scream that tore from my lips turned to laughter within moments. He was right, it wasn’t scary. It was fun. And exhilarating. Flying through the night, snow spiraling all around us, both of us laughing, and smiling, and holding on to each other. I whooped as we slid to a stop in the carved out basin at the bottom of the hill and I didn’t even care who heard.
We were making memories. Ones I’d revisit often in the future. Ones I’d hold onto for a lifetime.
Twenty Three
Most people’s version of a Christmas morning starts with a tree and a visit from Santa. Mine started with a headache. The kind that said I hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep the night before, and it wasn’t from excitement. Most years I knew what to expect from the holidays. A big fat nothing. Christmas was just like every other day, passing unnoticed in our house, and that was fine with me. No pressure. But this year was different. This year I had no clue what to expect.
We still hadn’t bothered to decorate. Hadn’t even talked about it. No tree sat lit up and glowing in the living room. No holly hanging on the front door. No gifts wrapped in pretty paper and bows. But it was different. And if nothing else, I wanted mom to know that. I wanted to make this year special.
Presents weren’t exactly in our budget, and even if they had been, I hadn’t the slightest clue what to get for her. I’d lived with the woman since the day I was born, and I didn’t know the first thing about her. What she liked, what she didn’t like, what she wanted, what she hated, what she dreamed of. Something I planned to remedy. But in the meantime, thanks to Mrs. Parks and her cookbooks, I did know how to put together a tasty breakfast.
Rooting through the cabinets, I pulled out the box of pancake mix I’d stashed the week before. My original plan to make them from scratch got booted when I saw how much the ingredients cost, but I did manage to squeeze sugar, vanilla extract, and chocolate chips into the weekly grocery budget, as well as a carton of eggs.
My ears were on high alert the entire time I measured and mixed, listening for any sign that Mom might be awake. I cracked the eggs into a separate pan as the pancakes heated on the stove and added salt, pepper, and a handful of grated cheese. By the time everything was ready to be served, I hadn’t heard one peep from her. Which left me with another problem.
Did I dare risk waking her? Or should I wait and let the food get cold? As I killed time setting out plates, silverware, and glasses of orange juice for each of us, I decided it was time to grow a backbone. As much as I hated the idea of starting this day off on a potential bad note, Mom wasn’t the same person without the alcohol, and I’d never know exactly what kind of person she was underneath if I never gave her a chance to show me.
That’s what my head had to say about it. My heart had other plans. Like running for the hills at a galloping pace as I made my way down the hall toward her bedroom door. Before the rest of me could follow its lead, I knocked and told myself it was too late to turn back now.
No answer. Not surprising since the volume of my heroic knock added up to all of a field mouse tapping on her door. With a tissue. Why did I do these things to myself? I was in holly jolly hell. I could literally feel the years slipping away from my life as I caused what I was certain was permanent damage to my poor heart.
Jeez, it was my mother in there, not some axe murderer. Telling myself to take a chill pill, I knocked again, only slightly louder this time.
Who was I kidding? I couldn’t go through with this.
I’d made it three whole steps when a rusted creak announced my mother’s emergence. Too late to retreat, I stood frozen in the hallway with my back to her, bracing myself for whatever would come next.
“Jade?” She didn’t sound mad.
Calling on what little courage I had left, I slowly rotated. She didn’t look mad, either. Just confused. And why not? I’d essentially just ding-dong-ditched her bedroom door.
“Oh. I, uh, thought you were sleeping. I mean, I guess you were. Not that you look like you just rolled out of bed or anything. I just . . .” For the love of God, stop talking! “I didn’t, um, mean to wake you up. I, uh, made breakfast if you’re hungry.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. I, um . . . I wanted to.”
“Oh. Well . . . thank you. I’ll, uh, be out in a minute, I guess.”
“Right. Sure. Okay. I’ll just, uh, be in the kitchen.” I pointed down the hall like she didn’t know where the kitchen was and fought the urge to mentally slap myself.
She nodded and I backed away, wondering if we’d ever be able to have a conversation that didn’t consist of more ‘um’s and ‘uh’s than actual words.
***
“Wow.” At the sound of her voice, I cracked the back of my head on the cabinet I’d been digging through in search of the bottle of syrup I knew was in there somewhere, and ducked out to find Mom standing beside the table, examining the food. “This looks amazing.”
A sudden wave of shyness crashed over me and I could feel my cheeks heat. She’d complimented me. A sincere compliment. And I honestly didn’t know what to do with that. “Thanks.”
“If you’re looking for the syrup, I moved it into the cabinet over the fridge.”
Sure enough, there it was. Snatching the plastic bottle, somewhat creepily fashioned into the shape of a woman’s body, I joined Mom at the table, where silence prevailed as we set to arranging our breakfast the way we each liked. Me with a geyser of syrup dumped over my pancakes and running into my eggs, and Mom with a small puddle in the corner of her plate. Chew—swallow—sip—repeat. Mom seemed to be doing them same and with every bite, my hopes that today would somehow bring a decline to the weirdness factor between us dissolved.
“Oh, I have something for you.” At long last, it was Mom who broke through the invisible barrier we’d both played a part in erecting.
Without another word, she left the table and rushed down the hall toward her room. When she returned, it was with a narrow white box in hand.
“It isn’t much, but . . .” She slid the box across the table to me.
My fingers knotted in my lap, afraid to touch it, afraid to hope that this was really what it looked like.
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
Slowly, I reached over the cracked table for the slightly dented cardboard. I’d inhaled nothing but oxygen, and yet it somehow seemed to coalesce into something much more solid in my throat as I peeled back the lid to reveal a brown, woolen hat.
“I noticed you didn’t have one and thought you probably should.” Mom fidgeted with her fork, eyes fastened on the crumbling eggs she poked at.
“Yeah.” My heart pinched as I blinked back tears. I wouldn’t have cared if it had been trash in that box, it was the first present I could remember my mother ever giving me—Christmas, birthday, or any other reason. I treasured it. “This is great, Mom. Thank you. I love it.”
“You’re welcome.” She took another small bite and a sip of her juice. “When is Kiernan coming to get you?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s Christmas. I’m not sure he’s coming at all today. He probably wants to spend it with his family.”
“You should call him.” She threw back the rest of her juice, getting to her feet to drop the dirty glass in the sink. “I’m sure Claire won’t mind having you there. I’m not feeling very well. I think I’m going to go lie down for a while. Merry Christmas, Jade.”
“Merry Christmas, Mom.”
My heart sank along with my eyes to the half-eaten plate of pancakes and eggs still sitting on the table. Guess I wasn’t as good a cook as I thought. She grabbed a bottle of water on her way out and I knew it was so she wouldn’t have to leave her room again for a while.
Despite my mother’s instructions, I had no intention of calling Kiernan. Christmas was a family holiday and I wouldn’t intrude on that. Instead, I dumped the extra food in a Tupperware for later and began cleaning up. Taking my time with the dishes, I scrubbed each by hand until they shined and then reorganized the cabinets for absolutely no reason at all. I was dangerously close to color coordinating the fridge when there was a knock at the door.
“Merry Christmas!” Kiernan was inside the apartment, wrapping me in his arms and pressing his lips to mine before I could even get over the shock of seeing him there.
“Kiernan! What are you doing here?”
He fell back far enough to see me, never removing his arms from around my waist. “It’s Christmas.”
“Yeah, and you should be spending it with your family.”
“I am. We are. Jade, you’re a part of our family. Did you really think we’d leave you out today?” I’m pretty sure my mouth fell open and Kiernan frowned at me. “Babe, you really need to have more faith in us.”
“No. That’s not it. I just—”
“I know.” He pressed his forehead to mine and I melted into him. “And you really need to have more faith in you.”
“Kiernan—”
“Where’s your mom?”
“What?”
“Your mom. Like you said, it’s a family holiday.”
“You want . . .” This couldn’t be right. It felt like my two separate worlds colliding. “You want my mom to come to your house?”
“Yeah. My mom called her yesterday and set it all up.”
I had to open and close my mouth several times before any words would come out of it. “Yesterday? But my mom’s—”
“Oh good, Kiernan’s here.” Mom was standing in the hallway, fully dressed in the nicest thing I’d ever seen her wear—a hunter green sweater and dark wash blue jeans—and she was . . . smiling? Clearly I’d stepped into the Twilight Zone. “Surprise.”
With a weak lift of her arms, her smile faded, and I realized I was just standing there staring at her. “You’re really coming?”
“I don’t have to if you don’t want—”
“No. No, I want. I really want. I’m just . . . I have to get dressed.” It suddenly dawned on me that I was the only one in the apartment still rocking fuzzy pajamas.
Kiernan’s deep laugh followed me all the way down the hall and I knew my face had turned ten shades of red.
***
“Merry Christmas!” I was dragged into a warm, welcoming hug the instant I step
ped inside the Parks’ house. The scent of gingerbread and sugar cookies assailed my nostrils with holiday cheer. Mrs. Parks released me to reach for my mother and gave her a hug, as well. The look on my mother’s face was priceless. “Come in. Come in.”
Kiernan took my coat and the nice new hat Mom had given me, and tucked them away in the closet before ushering the lot of us into the living room where Caulder was reclining on the sofa flipping through the pages of a book.
Stacks of clothes, movies, video games, and all sorts of other goodies sat opened in the corner. And beneath the tree . . . were more gifts wrapped in shiny red paper. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace and Christmas music played softly from the stereo on the mantle. It was like stepping into a greeting card.
“Sit down. I want to give you your presents.”
“Presents?” Hugging the messenger bag where I’d managed to squirrel away the one—as in singular—gift I had for Kiernan, I eyed the stack of presents beneath the tree.
“We knew this was going to be a surprise for you, and we didn’t want you to feel bad, so we weren’t going to get you anything, but . . . it’s Christmas,” Mrs. Parks explained. “Forgive us?”
I laughed and glanced at my mom who was hovering anxiously in the corner near the door. She wasn’t enjoying this the way I was. If she had her choice, I had no doubt she’d be back in bed at home. But she was here. For me. And that was the greatest gift anyone could have ever given me.
“Mom, will you sit here with me?”
She looked startled by my request. “Oh. Sure.”
Anxiously scurrying across the room, I took pity on her and chose a seat near the corner so she could feel hidden again. I knew all too well what it felt like not to want to be the center of attention. Kiernan settled on my other side and handed me a large, squishy package.
I took it and glanced around the room to find all eyes on me. “Are you all just going to sit around watching me?”
“Yes.” Caulder smirked at me, sitting up to give his mother a place to sit. “So you’d better get to it, or it’s going to be a boring show.”