by Nella Tyler
Chapter 27
Dexter
There was nothing more torturous than going to Christmas dinner with my father.
After losing my mother, spending the holiday at my father’s house made Scrooge seem like father Christmas himself.
My father was miserable. He hated the whole tradition, probably because it reminded him of my mother.
Ironically, that also likely had a lot to do with why my father didn’t simply say to hell with it: in order to honor my mother’s memory.
Even though he never said that, or much else throughout this mutually painful process, that was the only reason I could ever fathom. Anything else, such as trying to rekindle a relationship, or, God forbid, showing goodwill towards man was not the least bit indicative of my father.
It simply wasn’t in his nature, and if it wasn’t for my mother’s influence, I was fairly certain it wouldn’t be in my nature either.
However, I still couldn’t help but wonder if my father would even notice if I didn’t show up.
Hell, he might even be happy about it, given that he took the time to give a shit, I thought as I cooked breakfast on the morning of Christmas Eve.
Intermingled with plots to escape having to endure another yuletide torture session, without my father saying a word to me, I thought about my mother.
She was the only reason our house ever had any kind of genuine, merry spirit.
Every year, she would host a party and invite all her friends. While it was a social affair that looked good for my father, it wasn’t actually a business engagement. Therefore, it did end up being more fun.
After my mother died, my father continued to have the party, and everyone continued to show up.
Therefore, it was reasonable that no one would notice my absence; least of all my father.
Still, every time I was able to feel comfortable with the idea that I wouldn’t be missed, there was a nagging in my gut that reminded me I should go. I knew it was the right thing to do, but since my father wasn’t exactly leading by example in that department, I wondered how bad I would really feel.
I was nearly finished preparing my breakfast when I heard a knock at my door.
I stopped dead in my tracks, listening until there was another knock, to be sure I had heard it right.
I couldn’t help being co confused. It was far too early for Garrett to be at my door and if my father was there, it was only because he was gravely injured.
A hell of a way to start Christmas, I mused as I sauntered to the door.
When I finally answered the door, I was even more confused to see Brent Lawson standing there.
“Hello, Mr. Lawson,” I greeted him strangely, now slightly concerned that the thought I had about my father’s health was more of a premonition than a jab at my father’s character.
“Hi, Dexter,” Brent grinned, which helped assure me he wasn’t bringing grim news.
“Come in, please,” I insisted, stepping aside so that he could pass.
“Thank you,” he replied, “It’s freezing out there…But I suppose it is Christmas Eve, so I can’t complain too much.”
I shook my head in agreement as I shut the door but stared at him oddly, trying to resist the urge to ask him what the hell he was doing here.
Even though he was in casual clothing, I still felt slightly underdressed in my sweatpants and old t-shirt. However, this was my house, at nine in the morning on Christmas Eve, so that helped stave off the embarrassment.
“Is…everything okay?” I finally asked, unable to hold my curiosity any longer.
“Oh, yes. Everything is fine!” Brent insisted as though he suddenly realized how this must have seemed with him showing up unannounced like he did. “I…I’m sorry to barge in like this.”
“No, don’t worry about it,” I replied, feeling relieved.
For as much as my father and I disagreed on, I couldn’t stand the idea that he had died alone a day before a major holiday, especially considering our last conversation.
“Would you like something to drink? Breakfast?”
“Do you have coffee? That would be great!” Brent answered, and I agreed, immediately walking toward the kitchen.
“Sure thing, Mr. Lawson,” I answered over my shoulder.
“Call me Brent, please,” he offered earnestly. “I am coming to you…as a friend.”
“Okay…” I answered, feeling stranger than ever. However, I didn’t dare say anything more until we both had our coffee and were sitting across from one another. “Brent, is everything alright? Are you okay? Mazie?”
“Yes…yes,” he chuckled, grinning at the mention of Mazie. “Everyone is fine.” He took a sip of his coffee and drew in a deep breath before continuing. “The truth is, I’m a little nervous about coming here. I’m embarrassed.”
“Why?” I couldn’t help but inquire, growing more confused by the second.
“I owe you an apology, Dexter. I was the one who told your father about you closing the deal. Of course, I thought you had already told him, in the same way that Mazie thought that I already knew. She was simply trying to make conversation with me, without telling me the biggest thing that was going on in her life.”
I narrowed my eyes slightly, trying to read between the lines; though, the look he shot me eventually made it clear that what I suspected was the truth.
I couldn’t help but simper slightly, “So, I guess Mazie had another conversation with you, too?”
“Yes, but it isn’t what you think. She had no intention of betraying you, or telling your secret. She was simply trying to make conversation, so she chose something that she thought was safe.”
I nodded, wondering if this was the true reason for him being here. It was strange, to think that her father, of all people, was vouching for his daughter. Normally, if a father showed up at his doorstep because of his daughter, he would be carrying a shotgun.
However, Mazie was different, and I realized at that moment that Brent was too.
“Listen, Dex, your relationship, or lack thereof, is none of my business. All I told Mazie is that I want her to be happy and I want the same for you. Whether that is with her or without her, you two are adults. I’m simply here on my own behalf, apologizing for my part in this…misunderstanding,” he insisted.
Again, I shook my head in acknowledgment.
“Brent, you’re a wonderful gentleman, and I appreciate your apology, but it isn’t necessary. You didn’t do anything wrong, and I hate to think that you came out here in the cold, on Christmas Eve no less, to deliver it,” I grinned. “Although, it is nice to see you, especially in such a casual atmosphere.”
“Well, I do have a life outside the office,” he chuckled, but his expression eluded to another meaning that I read loud and clear.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I offered, tired of beating around the bush. “It’s not like my father would be proud either way. He’s too caught up in his own shit to worry about giving me any credit.”
Brent immediately averted his eyes, keeping a quiet resolve about himself. However, after a moment of what seemed to be contemplation, he answered my harsh accusation with simple sincerity, “Dexter, I know your father well. Besides your mother, of course, I think I was the only person he truly trusted, and in being that person, I can tell you that your father is proud of you.”
I huffed, unintentionally scoffing in disbelief. Although I had plenty of retorts that I wholeheartedly believed, I didn’t speak.
Thus, Brent’s shoulders rose and fell with a kind of indifference that made me feel as though I shouldn’t have been so callous.
“Well,” he offered eventually, “Like I said, I know Mazie shouldn’t have told me the news, but if the thought hasn’t registered yet, it was only because she is proud of you and wants to share your accomplishments. She really does care about you, Dex, and I have a feeling she has cared about you for a really long time.”
I averted my eyes, feeling guilty.
How
ever, when Brent’s voice rose in volume, I returned my attention to him.
“Will you please join us for dinner tonight? I think it would mean the world to Mazie.”
When my gaze caught his, Brent was grinning widely, and I felt my heart beat hastily.
I grinned and before I could stop myself, or talk myself out of it, I had found that I was already in the process of agreeing.
Chapter 28
Mazie
When my father walked in, late on Christmas Eve morning, I thought it was strange, but I wasn’t about to question it.
My mother, on the other hand, was nearly ready for a fight.
“It’s Christmas, Brent, where did you go off to so early?” she demanded, spatula in hand as it sunk deep into her hips, accompanying her attitude.
“I’m sorry…I had to talk to one more client before Christmas, and since you girls were sleeping in, I figured it would be the best time to go.”
My mother rolled her eyes, and while I understood her frustration, having dealt with this my entire life, I was sympathetic toward my father.
“Well, sit down. Your breakfast is almost ready,” my mother huffed, shaking her head as her anger dissipated.
“Good morning,” I grinned, momentarily missing being at my parents’ house all the time and hearing their bantering. In a strange way, it was comforting to me.
It was a sign that I was home.
Without it, I knew that the holiday wouldn’t be the same. So, in a way, I was glad my father had incited it since my parents seemed to be on good behavior since I had arrived.
Given that my father was always working, it wasn’t a surprise that he had just one more task to complete. In fact, it would be strange if that was truly the last occupational distraction he had before Christmas morning.
The rest of the day was spent decorating the house and putting up the tree, as was our family tradition. Since my father was always busy, we were never able to decorate for Christmas properly until the night before, when there was less of a chance that something catastrophic would pull him away.
Usually, that plan was successful, and this year we were lucky.
Despite my father’s early morning escape, we could have a family-filled day that went interrupted.
This helped me get into the spirit.
Slightly exhausted from the physical exertion of decorating a house the size of my parents’ home, my father and I were resting before dinner.
He looked at his phone and I wondered briefly if this was going to be the start of another outburst from my mother.
However, when he grinned, looking up at me, I figured it was something else.
“I have an early present for you,” he exclaimed, and although I had no idea how a glance at his phone could yield a present, I couldn’t help but be excited.
After all, Christmas had always brought out the child in me, no matter how old I got, and after a day of Yuletide traditions, the youthful exuberance was returning.
I beamed as my father glanced at the door. A moment later, as though on cue, someone knocked.
I shot my father a strange look, confused at who could be at the door.
I thought of teasing my father and asking if he had invited Santa to Christmas Eve dinner, but I decided against it.
My father didn’t respond to my strange look. Instead, he simply grinned at me expectantly.
I cautiously opened the door but was genuinely surprised to see Dexter standing there.
“Hi…” I replied, trying not to seem overly surprised, “What…what are you doing here?”
“He’s here for dinner, of course!” my father exclaimed, walking up behind me with a merry expression. “Hello, Dexter,” my father exclaimed, “Please excuse my daughter’s terrible hospitality. Come in out of the cold.” He nudged me playfully, but I was still confused as to why Dexter was even here, much less why he was coming for dinner.
“Hi, Mazie,” Dexter grinned brightly as he walked past me, “Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawson.” He nodded to my father.
“Merry Christmas,” he replied, patting Dexter on the back as he passed him.
“Dinner!” my mother called, as though on cue from inside the kitchen, before coming out to the living room, looking almost as surprised as I was. “Good evening, Dexter. Is everything alright?”
“Yes, of course,” my father chimed in joyfully, “I invited Dexter to come have dinner with us. I hope you don’t mind?”
Immediately, her expression brightened. She had always loved Dexter and had openly wondered why the two of us had never gotten together.
If she only knew, I thought, trying to will my face not to redden.
“Oh, no! Of course not! We always have room for one more,” she replied enthusiastically, turning quickly in order to set another place. “Merry Christmas, dear!” my mother called behind her.
I giggled as my father left us, almost abruptly.
“Your mom is enthusiastic about the holidays like my mother was,” Dexter mused, his eyes unfocused, as though he were reveling in fond memories.
“She’s always had quite the flair for the dramatic,” I agreed. “But no one did Christmas better than your mother.”
Dexter’s eyes traveled back to mine with a gracious expression in his gaze.
“Yeah, she really did love to entertain, especially Christmas. If it was possible to make it festive, she was the one to figure out how to do it,” he answered, “Funny how she ended up with Scrooge.”
I laughed, “Oh, come on. Your father isn’t that bad.”
“Yes, Mazie. He is,” he teased as my mother came back to shuffle us to the table.
“These seven fish aren’t going to eat themselves!”
“Oh, you do like fish, right?” I offered, “Because if you don’t, you’re kind of SOL.”
My mother flashed a dirty look back in my direction, but I ignored it, considering I didn’t curse.
She shook her head, and Dexter chuckled.
“I’ll manage, thanks.”
The meal was interesting and entertaining. Dexter was a magnificent talker. When he told a story, he rattled on and regardless of whether you had a clue what he was talking about or not, he captivated his audience with every word.
It was kind of amazing, and of course, my parents were even more enthralled than I was.
Even with everything that had gone on between the two of us over the course of the past few weeks, I couldn’t help but think this was how it was supposed to be. I enjoyed having Dexter sit at the family dinner table, and I was proud to be the reason, ultimately, he was there.
Since my parents already knew Dexter, it was also far easier, knowing that he wasn’t on parental trial.
After all, my father had invited him, so he obviously had fought for him to be there.
Desert followed swiftly after the large dinner that my mother prepared, but it was still late by the time the final course was finished.
Yet, Dexter didn’t seem to be in any hurry, since he finished his coffee slowly and graciously accepted another cup.
Once dinner was officially over, though, I walked Dexter out, wanting some alone time to talk to him.
“Hey, listen, Mazie…” Dexter started before I could say anything, as soon as the door was closed, “I’m sorry about the way I reacted. I was being dumb and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” he grinned in a truly contrite and somewhat ashamed manner, “I guess I’m not really good about letting anyone into my personal business.”
Though I appreciated what he was saying, I couldn’t help but be caught off guard. After all, everything that had happened was my fault, not his.
“I’m sorry too. I would’ve never said anything if I had thought for one minute that you hadn’t already told everyone. I never meant to take that news away from you.”
He chuckled, lightly putting a hand on my shoulder, “Mazie, I know. It’s okay. I understand…and I’m sorry. I completely overreacted.”
I grinned,
“I’m sorry too.”
“So…maybe after Christmas, we can get together?” Dexter asked hopefully, and my heart immediately started to beat quickly.
“Yes! Of course,” I insisted, grinning confidently.
He shook his head in confirmation and sounded genuinely relieved when he spoke, “That’s great!”
When he gazed into my eyes then, I could’ve sworn he was going to kiss me. However, at the last moment, as though we were teenagers again, he settled for a hasty hug and a peck on the cheek before stepping off the porch.
Still, I couldn’t have been happier.
After he left, I ran inside and hugged my father so tight, he grunted before laughing with what little breath he had left.
“What’s this for?”
“Because you’re the best! That was the best gift ever!” I exclaimed as he chuckled.
For the first time in a long time, I was actually able to genuinely appreciate exactly how much I loved my father and how much he meant to me.
Chapter 29
Dexter
When I woke up the next morning, I wasn’t sure what I would be in for.
The fact that it was Christmas usually wasn’t any excuse to be overly nice to me, and I wondered if my father would be angry over my absence. I had left him a voicemail telling him about the invitation, and he had never called me back. Therefore I couldn’t be sure what to expect.
I was plagued with a certain feeling that told me I didn’t even want to see him. It was Christmas, after all, and I didn’t feel like being bombarded with trivial aggravation.
However, I was certain that I would never be able to let myself live it down if this, in fact, was my father’s last Christmas and I had blown him off entirely.
After all, I had gone back to my mother’s house to wake up there on Christmas morning. It was a last-minute decision, but I figured it would mean nothing if I snuck out before my father saw me.
So, somewhat begrudgingly, I walked downstairs.
I wasn’t particularly surprised to see that my father was already awake. He was sitting in the recliner, reading a newspaper, with his coffee sitting next to him on a small end table.