A Wright Christmas

by Linde, K. A.

  So, I just pulled my hair up into a shoddy bun, flyaways haloing my head, and flagged down a cab to take me to Lincoln Center. Normally, I wouldn’t waste the expense, and I’d just take the subway, but I was too numb for that today.

  It wasn’t until I was inside, lacing up my pointe shoes that I thought to ask who I would be performing the pas de deux with this week. I knew next week would be with André. We’d planned it so that we were together for the last week. He was my favorite partner.

  But as soon as I heard the booming voice, I knew that I wasn’t just unlucky; I was doomed.

  “Peyton, you’re home early,” my ex, Serge, cried, bending down to kiss me on both cheeks.

  I scrambled to my feet, flustered. This was…not good. “Serge, I didn’t realize you were dancing as Cavalier this week.”

  “Of course. I was there when Lauren had her…” He vaguely gestured to his stomach, as if unaware where the appendix was located. “I helped her into the ambulance.”

  “That must have been traumatizing.”

  “No,” he said with a dimpled smile. He was a head taller than me with thick, curly black hair and the musculature that showed the extra effort he put into the gym. I wished he’d put that extra effort into our relationship, but what did I know? “I’m great under pressure.”

  “And modest,” I joked flatly.

  He chuckled. “You were always so funny, Peyton. I missed you while you were away.”

  Had he? Seemed doubtful.

  “I don’t need to be in the studio long,” I told him. “I could do this role in my sleep. Let’s just make sure that we’re in sync, and then we’ll go from there.”

  He looked at me in surprise. “You want to just do a few run-throughs and leave?”

  “Yeah?” I asked, uncomfortable by his shock.

  “Texas must have changed you, butterfly,” he said, brushing his hand across my skirt.

  I stepped back at the familiarity. I didn’t like this.

  “Normally, you would run this number all day until you were blue in the face.”

  I shrugged. “I took a red-eye. I’m tired.”

  “Ah,” he said, unconvinced. His eyes took a measure of me that I didn’t appreciate. “Then let’s begin.”

  The artistic director came through in the middle of our rehearsal and applauded our efforts. “Lovely, Peyton. I can tell the time away has been rejuvenating. You’re simply effervescent. I cannot wait to see you onstage.” His eyes turned to Serge. “Keep working on the lift sequence. Use your plié.”

  Then, he was gone.

  I was breathing out heavily. Had Lubbock rejuvenated me? I didn’t feel like I was dancing any differently.

  “Typical,” Serge muttered.

  “What?”

  “Use your plié,” he grumbled. “As if I haven’t heard it a million times.”

  I knew better than to give him a critique. He never took criticism well—in ballet or outside. So, I just let it hang between us.

  “Do you want to go one more time?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No. Let’s run it before we go on.”

  “All right.” I tugged off my shoes and walked to my discarded bag. I guzzled down the bottle of water. My stomach grumbled noisily, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten that day.

  Serge leaned against the wall next to me. “Do you want to go get lunch?”

  “Thanks, but I think I’m going to grab something on the way home and see if I can get a few more hours of sleep before tonight.”

  He reached out and grasped my hand before I could flee the studio. “Hey, it’s really good seeing you.” His thumb trailed along my palm, and I pulled it back.

  “Sure. See you tonight.”

  “Since we’re both here,” he interrupted, “you know…for Christmas, maybe we could do something together?”

  His eyes were wide and endearing. God, how had I ever fallen for him? I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to be a pushover and let him back into my life. He wanted to have a Christmas lay and go back to being indifferent to everything. I was only interesting right now because I’d been gone. And likely…because my mind and heart were set elsewhere. Now, I was a challenge.

  “No, thanks. I’m going to get sushi and veg out. Thanks for the offer though,” I said with a polite smile and then left him gawking at my refusal.

  God, I missed Isaac.

  I looked down at my phone as I left Lincoln Center behind. No messages. Of course, I couldn’t expect him to text me after what I’d done. I clutched it tight to my chest to keep myself from making that first move.

  It was easier this way…better. Even if everything felt like it was crumbling down around me. A destruction of my own making.

  25

  Isaac

  “Grandma! Look what Santa brought me!” Aly cried as soon as my parents entered the house.

  “Wow, Aly Cat,” my mom said. “Is that Elsa and Anna?”

  “Yes!” Aly said triumphantly. “It’s what I wanted.”

  “That’s so lucky.”

  My dad patted me on the shoulder as he came inside and then took a seat on the couch to survey the disaster that was my home post-Christmas presents. My mom busied herself with Aly as she explained every single toy she’d received.

  Annie filed in last. “Hey, big bro. How are you doing?”

  I shrugged and shut the door. Peyton had been gone for five days. I hadn’t heard a peep from her. Of course, I didn’t expect to. She had made herself clear. We were over, and whatever we’d had was just a fantasy. Not real life.

  “We brought over the rest of the presents,” my mom said.

  Aly clapped. “More presents! Yay!”

  “At least she’s having a good day,” Annie said thoughtfully.

  “Had to make it special for her. She deserves it,” I told her.

  If nothing else, life with Aly was exactly the same. That was the thing about being a parent. It was a twenty-four/seven kind of job that never ceased or changed, no matter what happened in your life.

  No matter if I was a fucking mess and just wanted to drink whiskey and fall into oblivion.

  “Come into the kitchen with me,” Annie said.

  She guided my shoulder that direction, and I followed her easily.

  “What’s up?” I asked, pouring myself another large cup of coffee.

  “I found something while I was at Mom and Dad’s this morning.”

  “Oh yeah?” But when I turned back around to look at her, I frowned at what was in her hand. “Why do you have that?”

  “Well, I was going through our old stuff. Do you know how much junk you still have at their place? You should really go through it.”

  “Get to the point, Annie,” I muttered.

  She laughed and then bit her lip. “Anyway, I found a bunch of your stuff from high school, and there was this picture.”

  I knew which one it was before she even passed it to me.

  Peyton and I were sixteen. I’d just gotten my first car, which was a hulking beast of a truck that only worked half the time. We drove it down to the lake at Ransom Canyon to visit friends. Someone—I couldn’t even remember who—took a picture of us standing in front of the truck with the lake and the canyon in the background. We weren’t looking at the camera, but at each other. I had my arm around her shoulders. She was laughing at something I’d said, and I…I looked at her like she was sunlight after a dark winter. She had been my very existence.

  I set the picture facedown on the counter. “You probably shouldn’t go through my things.”

  “Isaac, come on,” Annie muttered. “You didn’t even read the back.”

  “I don’t need to,” I said.

  I ignored my coffee and went to the cabinet where I held the whiskey instead. I poured myself a shot and then downed it without looking back.

  Of course I knew what the back said. Peyton had printed the picture and given it to me to keep in my locker when we went back to school for junior year. I�
�d looked at it every day for a full year.

  I love you. I’ll always love you. Nothing can come between us.

  —Pey

  The message felt futile now. It had seemed true when she gave it to me as a kid, but now…it was obvious that things had come between us. Were still coming between us. And it was pointless.

  “It’s over, Annie. I don’t need reminders about it right now,” I muttered.

  “You know, I liked it better at the soccer game on Sunday when you were pissed off.”

  “Why is that?” I poured another shot.

  Annie yanked it out of my grasp and tossed it into the sink. “Because at least then, you felt something. You were mad. You ran around the field like you were on fire. You demolished our opponent. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Great. I’m still a good soccer player, even when I’m fucked up.”

  “Stop it,” she snapped, and I met her hardened green gaze. “I get being upset. I get wanting to mope around about this, but the person who wrote this?” She grabbed the picture and waved it in my face. “She’s still out there, and she still loves you.”

  I snatched the picture out of her hand. “The person who wrote this left me sixteen years ago.” I dropped the picture into the trash. “She’s gone, Annie. She’s gone.”

  Then, I brushed past her and back out into the living room to watch my daughter open a few more presents that she didn’t need.

  * * *

  Christmas wasn’t a good day.

  Of course, it was just like any other Christmas. And I was glad to have it with my daughter and my family. We opened presents and cooked dinner and celebrated the holiday. But…I was in a dark place.

  My mom seemed so worried about me that she even offered to take Aly for the night. But if I didn’t have Aly, then what would I do with myself?

  I knew that I sounded depressed about what had happened with Peyton. And I was. I didn’t know how to stop it. I didn’t know how to make it better without her. I’d just started thinking that there was something else in this life other than my daughter’s existence.

  Now, I was back at square one.

  I kissed my parents good night and ignored the concerned looks from Annie.

  “Night, Grandma!” Aly said, hugging my mom. “Night, Grandpa and Aunt Annie.”

  Aly gave everyone sloppy kisses, and we waved from the front door as they drove away.

  “Daddy,” Aly said as I closed the door.

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “Can I stay up with you tonight?”

  “No, honey, you have to go to bed.”

  “But I want to stay up with you. I promise to be a good girl.” She reached up and took my hand in hers and smiled brightly. “You look sad, Daddy. I can cheer you up.”

  I swallowed back the lump in my throat and then nodded. I hoisted Aly up into my arms. “All right, you win. Just tonight, because it’s Christmas, you can stay up with me. Why don’t we turn on a movie?”

  “Frozen!” she gasped.

  “What?” I said in mock shock. “Do you like Frozen?”

  “Daddy, don’t be silly,” she said with a giggle.

  I carried her back into the living room and set her down while I turned on Frozen. For a solid hour, I just sat with my daughter as we watched the movie for what had to be the thousandth time this year. But I didn’t even care. It was just nice to have her snuggled up against me.

  Aly yawned as big as I’d ever seen her, and I could feel her weight start to slacken as she leaned into me. I had a feeling she’d fall asleep on me out here. She’d probably still be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow.

  “Daddy,” she whispered through another yawn.

  “Yeah, honey?”

  “Is Miss Peyton still going to come over to make Christmas cookies?”

  My heart constricted. We’d had to cancel cookies when Aly had her nightmare day last week. But…she still thought it was going to happen. How did I begin to tell her that Peyton was gone?

  “I don’t…I don’t think so, honey,” I told her gently.

  “Are you sure?” Her big brown eyes looked up at me.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “Why not?”

  “Peyton went home.”

  “We could go to her house,” Aly suggested as if it were that easy.

  “I think that’s a great idea, Aly Cat, but Peyton doesn’t live here. She lives in New York City. She’s really far away, and it’s not easy for her to come and make cookies with you.”

  Aly stuck out her bottom lip. “Well, tell her to come back.”

  “I can’t,” I whispered.

  “Then…can we go to New York City, Daddy?” Aly asked through another yawn.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I’d like to go see her.” Her eyes fluttered closed. “She’s really nice and she dances and we should make cookies. I want to be just like Miss Peyton when I grow up.”

  I clenched my jaw and tried not to let the wave of pain blast through me. Aly meant nothing by it. Not like my parents or Annie. She wasn’t trying to sway me or make me do something stupid and impossible.

  Aly just…loved completely. And in this short time, she had fallen in love with Peyton as only a child could. She didn’t know her as the woman who had stolen her dad’s heart. She had no clue that I was madly in love with Peyton. Just that she was a person in Aly’s life that she wanted to keep there. She didn’t want her to be gone. She didn’t think it was possible for someone to just disappear on her.

  Even though Aly had lost her mother, it had happened when she was a newborn. In some way, she never really knew the loss of Abby. She’d never really known loss at all. And in her stubborn five-year-old mind, she just didn’t want Peyton to go.

  And neither did I.

  But how in the hell could I fix this—for me and for Aly?

  26

  Peyton

  “Great show tonight, Peyton,” my dance partner, André, told me as we came offstage from the final bow.

  “Thanks! You too.”

  My knee twinged slightly, but I couldn’t deny the incredible feeling of being back in Lincoln Center performing on stage at the Koch Theater before an enormous, enthusiastic, full audience. And dancing with André was way better than the last few performances with Serge. He really couldn’t take a hint.

  “I think some of us are going to get drinks out if you want to come with,” he offered.

  “Sure. I’m down,” I told him with a smile.

  Anything to get me out of my apartment. All I’d done in the eight days since being back was dance and obsess over leaving Lubbock. Going out with my friends would hopefully help me to stop thinking so damn much.

  I popped a few ibuprofens before changing into jeans and a sweater to combat the cold. New York was in one of those fluke freezing temperatures. It was all supposed to clear up for New Year’s and be something like seventy-five degrees when the ball dropped. So confusing.

  But right now, it was chilly.

  André waited near the back entrance with his boyfriend, a group of flowers, and a few snow soloists, who all gushed over my performance. André slung an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders and winked at me as we departed as a group. I get lost in the cluster of people as they all discussed the show as only ballerinas could.

  A handful of people hung out at the exit, mingling with other dancers and waiting for significant others. André invited a few more of the performers out with us, and we lingered in a gaggle as they decided who was going.

  I rubbed my hands together and blew into them to try to keep them warm. Hanging around outside was a bad idea for my knee. As soon as it got cold, I knew it would get stiff, and I’d pay for it tomorrow. I should probably go home and ice it. But the thought of being alone in my apartment was just not appealing.

  “Come on. We need to get moving,” I told André.

  He waved at me and continued his conversation with one of the other dancers. I
rolled my eyes and pranced up and down on the balls of my feet to keep the warmth in.

  Just then, I felt a tug on my peacoat. I turned around in confusion.

  “Miss Peyton! Miss Peyton! You did beautiful!”

  I gaped at Aly Donoghue standing before me, holding an enormous bouquet of roses.

  “Aly?” I gasped. “What are you doing here?” My gaze shifted over the crowd. “Where is your dad?”

  “We wanted to surprise you!” she said, stuffing the flowers in my arms. “Did it work?”

  I pulled her tight against me. “Yes! It absolutely worked. I cannot believe that you’re here.”

  “But you’re glad, right? Daddy said that you might not be happy to see him.”

  “What? Of course I am. And I’m so glad to see you, too,” I told her truthfully.

  “Aww, Peyton, who is your admirer?” a flower asked. “She’s adorable.”

  “This is Aly,” I told her with a smile. “Could you tell André that I had to bail?”

  “Sure thing. No problem.” The flower fluttered her fingers at Aly. “Have a good night, cutie!”

  “Night!” Aly said. She took my hand in hers and then tugged me away from my group of friends. “Come on. This way. Dad was right over here.”

  “He let you wander off alone?” I asked in disbelief.

  “No, he could see me the whole time. He’s not far. Remember, it was a surprise!”

  And I was surprised. Oh my God, what was even happening? Aly could not be here right now. Isaac most certainly couldn’t be here right now either. Not after how I’d left and what I’d said.

  Then, I saw him. I stopped in my tracks. Isaac was here. He was standing right before me with Aly still trying to yank my arm out of the socket to move us closer.

  “It’s okay, kiddo,” Isaac said, ruffling her hair. “You did a good job.”

  Aly dropped my arm. “I did it just like you’d said, Daddy! I surprised her!”