Christmas Cliché

by Tara Sivec

  My Christmas Eves are usually spent running around putting out fires from five in the morning until seven at night. When I finally have a spare five minutes, I throw on whatever uncomfortable, sparkly, designer gown my sisters picked out for me, and shove my toes into tall, painful heels I would never be caught dead in any other time. I’d spend the next few hours making uncomfortable small talk before disappearing into one of the bathrooms until everyone left. It was never fun. I never laughed or had a good time, and I certainly never had anyone special to share it with, aside from Millie and a box of chicken nuggets. But Millie doesn’t count, because she never let me make out with her under the mistletoe.

  I don’t want to jinx anything by saying I can’t imagine being happier than I am right now, but I can’t help it. I have never been happier. I have never been more relaxed. And I certainly never thought I’d be celebrating the Christmas of my past again, even in my wildest dreams, and enjoying every minute of it. I never even let myself think about celebrating Christmas any other way than how we have since my dad died. I let myself lock away all these special traditions, and I pretended like I didn’t miss them. But I did. God, did I miss them.

  From the moment I opened my eyes this morning, snuggled up in Jason’s arms, I haven’t stopped smiling, laughing, or having fun. As soon as we woke up, we took his truck over to his cabin for the first time since we left it a week ago, so he could pack up a few more things and load up all the Christmas presents he’d already bought. We got a little sidetracked having an entire cabin to ourselves, and our quick, twenty-minute trip turned into a two-hour sex-a-thon, in which we attempted to christen every room in his home.

  When we finally made it back to The Redinger House, everyone had something to say about how long we were gone, how wrinkled our clothes looked, and how “slow and hard” it must have been packing up Jason’s things. We were saved from anymore teasing when a small handful of the Redingers’s extended family showed up for brunch, a yearly tradition on Joy’s side of the family.

  His cousins, aunts, and uncles all greeted me with hugs, and kisses on the cheek, like they’d known me all their lives. Everyone was dressed in jeans and sweatshirts or flannels, or leggings and Christmas sweaters. The shoes were all piled by the front door, brunch was eaten off of festive Christmas paper plates with red and green plastic silverware, and the only time anyone took out their phones was when Joy made everyone squeeze together in a huddle to take a big family photo. I tried to insist I should be the one to take the photo, but they all dragged me into the small cluster of family members. Jason and I stood right smack in the middle with our arms wrapped around each other, and Joy’s sister perched her cell phone on a shelf and set the timer.

  After they told Millie to stop trying to organize everyone—first by color and then alphabetically by what designer they were wearing.

  We ate, I listened to all sorts of stories about Jason, Jen, Joy, and John from Christmases past, and everyone just had a wonderful, relaxed time, hanging out together at the bed-and-breakfast.

  After Joy’s family left, I helped Missy out with Christmas Eve dinner in the kitchen. This young woman just graduated from culinary school, and it blows my mind that she asks for my help. She’s an amazing cook, but her skills right now are more on the high-end side of cooking, and that’s not really what anyone at The Redinger House likes. She’s used to a more rigid, following the rules type of cooking, and I just throw shit together that sounds like it will taste good. I also went with the Christmas Eve menu we always had at Granny’s house. A prime rib roast with au jus gravy, cheesy potatoes and mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, sweet corn from the summer that was sheared off the cobb before being frozen, sweet potato casserole, and homemade rolls. I left Missy a little bit ago with the finishing touches and setting the table, so I could change.

  “You’ve been quiet since my little cousin said goodbye to you earlier,” Jason notes quietly, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and rubbing has hand comfortingly up and down the side of my arm.

  Cooking in the kitchen with Missy all afternoon, while Jason popped in and out the whole time to sneak some samples and give me kisses, helped distract me a little from his fifteen-year-old cousin Hazel’s goodbye. She was practically bouncing with excitement when she came over to hug me and finally blurted out that she knew I was Tori and Zoey Parker’s sister, but her cousin Jen told her she would murder her if she said anything to me, but she couldn’t stand it anymore. It was honestly really sweet. She didn’t ask for anything; she just wanted me to know she was a big fan and her friends were going to just die when they found out she met me.

  “It just surprised me that she knew who I was. I feel like I’ve been in a bubble all week, living here anonymously. A week ago, I would have promised her an Instagram shout-out from the twins or sent her a few of their cosmetic boxes and had the girls sign them. Now…” I trail off, giving myself a second to force the tears away. “Now, I don’t even know if they’ll ever speak to me again.”

  Jason kisses the top of my head, squeezing his arm around my tighter. I sent my mom and my sisters quick texts a little bit ago when I got out of the shower, telling them I’m sorry, I miss them, and Merry Christmas. I still haven’t gotten a reply.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

  “It will be fine, I’m sure,” I tell him, even though I’m not a hundred percent sure.

  I’m not even three percent sure.

  “It really would be a disaster if they were here right now, no matter how much I miss them.”

  I start to laugh, thinking about my sisters being here in the middle of nowhere West Virginia. It would be like Millie when she got here, but a thousand times worse. Millie is mostly joking when she makes comments about how “rough” it is being here. She lived in a freaking yurt for three months. She knows she’s not seriously going to die because there isn’t a Starbucks within walking distance. My sisters, on the other hand, would have complete meltdowns.

  “Seriously, could you imagine?” I ask Jason, laughing so hard tears are starting to cloud my vision, thinking about Tori screaming at the top of her lungs when she finds out GrubHub doesn’t deliver to these parts. “It would ruin Christmas if they were here.”

  Jason’s cell phone dings in his back pocket, and I’m still chuckling to myself and swiping away tears as he unwraps one arm from around me to pull his phone out and look down at the screen he holds between us.

  “My family in small-town West Virginia seventeen years ago was a struggle,” I continue as Jason taps one-handed on his phone, the dinging of incoming texts going off like crazy. “Now, when they have more fame and fortune than this entire mountain, times ten? It would be the worst thing ever.”

  My laughter starts to slow down when Jason’s phone is dinging so much it just sounds like one long, continues beep. Now that I think about it, when Jason was popping in and out of the kitchen all day, he had his phone in his hand and seemed to be more distracted than normal.

  “Do you have a problem with work or something? I thought you delegated everything,” I prompt as Jason mutters a few curses under his breath before silencing his phone and shoving it back into his pocket.

  Both of Jason’s hands come up to cup my face, and he looks at me seriously.

  “Promise me that no matter what happens in the next five to ten minutes, you will remember how many orgasms I’ve given you in the last forty-eight hours,” he says nervously.

  “What?” I laugh.

  “Maybe we should count them, just to be sure. There were the four in the snowman bathroom, two in the Grinch bedroom, one and a half in my truck, three at my cabin, and let’s not forget that special, ninja one in the boutique bathr—”

  “Jason!” I stop him, with a gentle smack to his chest, his hands still cupping my face as he looks worriedly into my eyes. “What is wrong with you?”

  He clears his throat and licks his lips nervously.

  “So, uh, remember the most romantic thing
in the history of romance… that I did with the laundry shoot, and what a smashing good time we had in the bathroom, that led to even more smashing good times all over this side of the mountain?”

  I’m so amused and confused by his nervousness that I just nod with a laugh.

  “Then I’m assuming you also remember that little childhood tradition you shared with me, after I did the most romantic thing in the history of romance, where you made a Christmas wish?”

  He looks at me sheepishly, biting his bottom lip, and anything funny about this situation completely disappears in the blink of an eye. Or in Jason’s case, nervous, rapidly blinking eyes.

  “The only thing I wish for Christmas is that I could have the best of both worlds. I wish my mom and my sisters could be here and appreciate a small, intimate Christmas with just the people you love the most under one roof.”

  Of course I remember making the Christmas wish. It’s all I’ve been thinking about since I made it, knowing it was an unattainable wish and it would never work, but making it anyway, because that’s the point of a Christmas wish.

  “You didn’t,” I whisper, thinking about all those text messages coming through his phone a few seconds ago, the ones he got last night when we were curled up on the couch, watching the movie, and all afternoon when he popped in and out of the kitchen. “Please, tell me you didn’t.”

  All of a sudden, I hear the loud bang of the front door flying open, followed by an ear-piercing shriek.

  “What do you mean I have to carry my own luggage? Uuugggh, this is the worst!”

  Jason’s face suddenly resembles the grimace emoji, with one big, clenched-teeth grin.

  “Merry Christmas?”

  His tentative words come out as a question instead of a statement, when the quiet crackling fire and soft Christmas music playing in the living room is taken over by shouting, stomping feet, and loud arguing that is currently happening out in the entry way by two shrieking female voices I would recognize anywhere.

  I don’t know whether to laugh or cry as Jason’s family, who seem to have been in the know about the arrival of hell right to their doorstep on Christmas Eve, all tell me to just stay here and relax, and they’ll get my family sorted and bring them in here to me.

  “In my defense, you made a Christmas wish, Allie,” Jason informs me as I turn away from him, wiping my sweaty, nervous palms on my sweater dress, while the commotion in the entryway starts getting closer and closer. “And according to the Christmas wish bylaws, if you have the power to make them come true, you fucking make them come true. Also, I’m a guy. A simple creature, if you will. I didn’t exactly think this whole plan through, further than getting your mom and your sister’s phone numbers from Millie and sending them a text. Wow, they are really needy people. I’m sorry. Have I said I’m sorry yet?”

  I shake my head, laughing at Jason—even though I kind of want to throw up right now—as he rests his hands on my shoulders from behind me, giving them a reassuring squeeze. At least now I know why I never got a reply to the texts I sent earlier.

  “For future reference, a Christmas wish is usually something completely unrealistic—that you know you’ll never get, because it’s unrealistic,” I explain to him quickly, the loud commotion right in the dining room now. “Like wishing for world peace, or a unicorn that shits rainbows and cash. Never gonna happen, but you wish for it anyway. When I wished for my family to be here with me right now, all of us under one roof to celebrate a simple, family Christmas, I knew it was unrealistic. Because something like that should never exist in nature! We’re all going to be struck down for this evil, evil creation brought here this night. And on baby Jesus’s birthday, Jason!”

  “Fake news!” Millie laughs, coming up to stand next to me, when I completely forgot she was even still in the room this entire time. That’s how frazzled I am right now.

  “Remember, countless orgasms, sooo romantic, and I believe my mom also mentioned I have excellent medical and dental,” Jason whispers in my ear, and I feel a little better about this family reunion, just because he’s here.

  Even if he is the one who just caused the downfall of all mankind.

  I have just enough time to take a deep breath for courage, when two blonde-headed blurs covered in head-to-toe white fur race around the doorway and across the living room, launching themselves into my arms.

  “We made it, and we didn’t die!”

  “Mom had to drive us herself. They didn’t even have a driver waiting for us Allie. It was awful!”

  “Why is snow so cold?”

  “Have you gained weight? You feel thicker. I’ll call my trainer.”

  “I had to carry my suitcase in from the car!”

  “No you didn’t! I had to carry your suitcase in from the car, you lazy ass!”

  “Shut up!”

  “You shut up!”

  “Girls!”

  All of a sudden, my mom is there, pulling Tori and Zoey away from me and breaking up the smacking fight they started in my arms. Pushing them to the side, my mom quickly turns and pulls me into a fierce hug, kissing the side of my face, her arms staying around me as she speaks.

  “What your sisters are trying to say is that we missed you, it’s so good to see you, and you look absolutely beautiful.”

  She gives me one last squeeze before pulling back, brushing my bangs out of my eyes, and giving me a reassuring smile, letting me know silently that everything is okay and she’s not mad at me for leaving her to deal with my sisters for the last week.

  “Yes! We totes missed you,” Tori agrees. “I had to make my own nail appointment yesterday. It was horrible.”

  My mom sighs and rolls her eyes, and Zoey smacks Tori on the arm.

  “I’m sorry I just walked out. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sure it was no picnic when I wasn’t there to organize your lives and keep you in line,” I joke.

  Except, I’m not really joking, and Jason knows my laugh is fake, giving me another supportive squeeze on my shoulders. I figured that would be the only reason they might miss me anyway.

  “No! That’s not why we missed you!” Tori and Zoey both shout at the same time with a furious shake of their heads.

  I laugh when they do it in sync, loving that no matter how often the two of them say or do the same thing at the same time with their twin intuition, I still think it’s cool and funny every time they do it.

  “We missed your smile,” Zoey says.

  “And your laugh. And how you don’t give a shit about what people think,” Tori adds.

  “And how you call us on our shit, when no one else does, because they just want to kiss our asses all the time,” Zoey says. “And your hugs.”

  “Yes!” Tori agrees. “You give the best hugs, even though you don’t like hugging. Or people. Or us.”

  “Stop,” I argue, sniffling and swiping at the stupid tears on my cheeks. “I like you guys.”

  Millie laughs out loud, and the twins both stare at me with their eyebrows raised.

  “Okay, I love you guys. But you’re my sisters. We’re not supposed to like each other all the time, and that’s okay,” I explain.

  “But, we like you all the time,” Zoey tells me with a shrug, Tori nodding and shrugging with her. “You’re our big sister. You take care of us, even though we’re spoiled brats, and we take you for granted. You’re cool, and you’re funny, and you’re sarcastic, and you’re the only person in the world we trust, and we just missed you. Please, please come home. We promise we won’t take you for granted anymore, and we won’t be so demanding.”

  Tori lowers her voice to a whisper, leaning in close to me.

  “Mom is mean. She makes us do everything. Zoey had to clean her own bathroom, Allie. Like, we have a staff for that. What’s the deal?”

  The girls both give me another hug, and my mom joins us, until Joy announces dinner is almost ready and my mom and the girls can get settled in their rooms before we eat.

  “I’ll show them up,�
� Millie offers, moving in between my sisters and wrapping an arm around both their shoulders as she leads them out of the room. “Nothing would bring me more pleasure than making fun of those god-awful fur hats on your heads, but I sense the panic in you, and this mountain air has given me… feelings. I, myself, was in your shoes just a week ago.”

  “How do people live like this?” Zoey complains quietly as the three of them walk through the doorway.

  “You’ve heard of the Amish, yes?” Millie asks. “It’s like that. But don’t worry, the bathrooms are indoors.”

  When they’re gone, Jason gives me a quick kiss, whispering a few more reminders to me about how romantic and orgasmic he is, before joining his mom, Jen, Brian and Maddy in the dining room.

  My mom turns to face me, grabbing both my hands when it’s just the two of us left in the living room.

  “I’m sorry, Allie. I’m so sorry,” she tells me, emotion cracking her voice.

  “For what?”

  She laughs softly. “Are you kidding me? It only took twenty-four hours of dealing with your sisters’ dramatics for me to realize what a mistake I made. I never should have put the responsibility of them on you for all these years, and I’m ashamed of myself for it,” she whispers. “I was so sad after your father died that I just buried myself in work and left you to deal with them. I’m so sorry, Allie girl. You do so much for them, and for us, and we’ve all taken you for granted. My God, I love your sisters, but they are nightmares. And I don’t even understand the language they speak. Things are always lit, and they use entirely too many acronyms and not enough proper grammar.”

  I laugh, quickly wrapping my mom in a hug.

  “It’s okay. It’s not like I ever said no, and I could have. I should have spoken up a long time ago and told you guys I wasn’t happy. We both made mistakes. I’m just glad you guys are here now.”

  Pulling back from the hug, my mom slides her hands down my arms until she’s clasping my hands between us, cocking her head to study me for a few quiet minutes.