My Hot Holiday (3 page)

I'm trying to sound emotionally stable, but there's a flutter in my voice, and I can feel my cheeks lighting up again like Rudolph's nose as she holds her glare on me.

There's an awkward silence, and then Aunt Lucy clears her throat.

Oh.  My.  God.  This is going to be me in 30 years!  Alone on Christmas -- dressed in black 365 days a year.

"So," I chirp.  "Have you seen my Mom?" I hear myself saying instead.

I smile at her and wait for her reply.

"Your mom?  Hmm.  Not lately," Aunt Lucy says coolly.

Luckily, at that moment, Mom reappears, carrying dirty plates and a wine glass toward the kitchen.

"Well, there she is!"  I say loudly.  "It’s been nice catching up with you, Aunt Lucy.  I'll find you.  Let's talk in a bit..."

I turn away before she can say anything else, and march off toward Mom the Matchmaker.

Suddenly my cheeks ache with all of this fake smiling.

"Well, your conversation with Joe lasted all of about 60 seconds, I see," Mom says angrily.

"Mmmm," I say, reaching out my arm to reduce her load of plates and whisper into her ear on the way to the kitchen.

"You sure can pick them, Mom.  He IS cute, except for the tattoo he got in PRISON!"

"Oh, please, Honey.  You really need to give love a chance and not blow off available, handsome men, just because Scott left you for that tramp," says Mom.

 “Oh no, Mom.  Don't blame me for this one," I hiss, looking up.  "Joe Sterns just got out of pyromania REHAB!  He served ten years for arson!"

"You are joking," says Mom, looking confused.  "I heard he was the hottest bachelor on Oyster Cove."

"He's hot alright!" I say quickly.  "But, you need to do a little research before you stick me with random guys."

“Okay! Okay!  You are right.  I'm sorry.  I just want you to be happy, honey," Mom says with an unmistakable tone of disappointment and sadness.

I wrinkle my nose to stave off the tears welling up in my eyes.  God, how did this happen?  Last year, I was here with Scott and the kids, and we were telling stories about Santa Claus.  Now, I'm trying to avoid getting set up with a felon, while working to squash the visions of a sexual fantasy that nearly came true in a damn bookstore.

I hate the phrase "WTF,” but tonight I think I'm gonna have to go with it.

"Mom, I forgive you.  I know you were just trying to help," I say consolingly.

Quietly I step over to the dinette table, sit down, and bury my head in my hands.  I feel slightly shaky and nauseous.  Miserably, I chug my adult punch, grab my smartphone, and start searching for someone to call.  I desperately need an escape.

Then, my scroll magically stops at the name Jessica Lewis.  “Jessica is perfect,” I think to myself.  I could call Jess, who was my best friend through high school, and see what she's up to.  I haven't seen her since the class reunion a couple of years ago, but it might be nice to catch up and get a change of scenery.  She is my Facebook friend, after all.  A quick text can't hurt, right?

So a minute later, I text her to see what she's up to on this delightful Christmas Eve.  Maybe she's hosting a fancy party I could drop in on!

Please, Santa, Please grant me just this ONE wish...

Then, my eyes grow heavy as I read her response.

"Hey, Jill!  Merry XMAS 2 U 2!  I would luv to get 2gether, but I'm at a party in CA.  Maybe next time?  XOXOXO”

Rats!  Jess is off the radar.  Then I remember she has a cozy cabin on the water.  She invited the EX and me to a Labor Day cookout a couple of years ago.  He said that wasn't "his kind of crowd."  Ahhh, yes, precious memories...

Oh God, I'm missing the gene that makes you grow up, marry the wealthy-stable "monogamous" family man, and visit college friends at home base every now and then.  Everyone's moving on without me, into a world that seems so normal and happy.

Maybe that cabin would be the perfect place for me to escape to tonight, so I text her back.

"No problem.  Sorry I missed you.  It's been a dreadful Christmas so far -- do you by chance still have that cabin by the lake?  Could I rent it for the night?"

Three minutes pass.  I feel the swirl of excitement in my stomach with the thought of a quiet cabin, while snow falls gently through town.  This is the kind of image movies are made of.

Finally, a response!

"Sure, Jill!  The cabin is empty.  The family who was renting it for the holiday called and canceled.  They got snowed in.  Go 2 the side door -- the instructions 2 get in are under the mat.  Enjoy!"

Oh, THANK YOU BABY JESUS!!!

"My Christmas escape," I squeal with excitement!  My sudden, uninhibited outburst may have caused a few heads to turn.

I can't hide my relief.  The night is looking SO much better now!  I'll lock myself inside the cabin, start a fire, and vacate my life and its problems.  Isn't that what a holiday is all about anyway?  At the very least, it could be a distraction.

"Jess -- you are a true lifesaver.  Talk about a Christmas present?!?  All my thanks, Jill XOXOXO"

Now, I just have to find Mom to tell her the news.

"What is going on over here?" Mom slips into the kitchen, filling up the area between the dinette table and the refrigerator.  "Have you gone crazy?"

I look up and feel myself freeze.  Mom has THAT look on her face again...

"I'm fine," I hear myself interrupting.  "I'm okay, because...I just haven't had a chance to tell you...I actually have a boyfriend.  I didn't mention him, because it's still early."  Even as I speak, I feel my body tense with guilt.  But, what else can I do to get her off my back?

Mom has a preconceived notion about how a divorced woman should act on Christmas Eve or any other day for that matter.  She acts like finding a man is like shopping for a new pair of underwear.

"You what?!"

"Yes," I say, and look down for inspiration for this enormous story I'm about to tell.  Just seeing the concern written across her face, I feel hot with humiliation, all over again.

"I met him...I met him while Christmas shopping.  I...ummm...started early...I met him last month."

This is only a half-lie.  I mean, I did meet him shopping, after all.

"In fact, I actually have to leave a little early tonight so I can give him his gift."

Then I realize I should have avoided that particular fabrication of the truth.

Oh my, she’s going to attack me with questions.  Oh well...it’s too late now.

"You are saying your new boyfriend lives HERE on Oyster Cove and you haven't told me about him," says Mom.

"Ahhh...yes, that's correct," I say after a pause.  "I'm sorry, I was just afraid I might jinx it.  It’s going so well."

"Oh, I don't know about this, Jillian.  I'm quite disappointed," she says and sighs.  "I thought you shared everything with me." Mom looks down with a hint of a pout.  "But, I understand you want your privacy," she adds hurriedly.  "You are entitled to that."

Entitled? Is she slamming me?  I am 37 years old, after all.

“Thank you for your support, Mom.  So...do you need help bringing out more snacks before I go?" I say to change the tone of the conversation.  Maybe I should plan out my exit strategies a wee bit better from now on.

"No, no," says Mom, as she takes a sip of wine.  "You go have fun.  But first, make sure you visit with your dad.  He's really missed you, you know." Her voice trails off and then guilt consumes her once again.  "I'm sorry if I put a damper on your night," she says apologetically.  "And you know I will want to hear all the details tomorrow!"

"I figured as much."

"I am your  mother, after all," she says, and gives me a wink.  "I love you."

"I love you, too Mom."

At that moment Dad walks into the room and I tell him Merry Christmas.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Sweetheart!"

"Doesn't Jillian look beautiful tonight, John?" Mom screams out from over the sink.

"Yes, she does.  But, she always looks pretty...except for all that make up.  Why do you women think you need to wear all that goop all over your face?" he asks Mom and me.

“Here we go again,” I think as I pull out a kitchen chair for him and shove myself into the one across from him.  He's wearing the emerald green sweater I gave him for Christmas last year and it's highlighting his blue eyes.

However, I recognize with slight shock that his hair is no longer salt and pepper; it's now snow white.  It didn't seem that white to me last month when I visited.  Overall, he looks healthy and happy to me.  I question how he and Mom are maintaining such a vibrant life, while I seem to be barely scraping by.

"Dad, I've been telling you since high school that girls are supposed to wear ‘goop’ on their faces."

"Nonsense!"  He says it just like he did when I was 15.

"So, how's the world of book editing?" Dad's voice asks with a welcoming change of tone.

He reaches for a perfectly-shaped snowman sugar cookie in the center of the table and lays a napkin in his lap, awaiting my answer.

"It's good.  It's good.  Kind of weird energy in the publishing house these days, though," I mumble through my own sugar cookie.

"Why?  Where's that coming from?" He quizzes me like always.

There are a lot of rumors that the self-published eBook craze is going to become the demise of our publisher.  The company has been cutting back -- laying off people every month.  But, right before I left for the holiday, I heard that we could get bought out after the New Year."

"Bought out?  Does that mean you would lose your job?" He looks startled.

"Possibly," I say.  "I am worried, but I think everyone is."

This is not 100 percent true.  There's just no point in telling Dad that it's only the writers and the editors who are currently on the chopping block, because he'd lay awake at night worrying about it, too.  There is no need for two of us to lose sleep over my professional insecurities.  Lord knows I've already lost too much time worrying about my personal drama.

"Are you having money problems, Jillian?" asks Dad, taking a swig of his eggnog.

"No, no.  I'm fine Dad.  The kids and I will be fine," I say rigidly.

"Well, you let us know if you need help.  We will have your back, since your asshole husband cut you loose," Dad says angrily.

"Dad...  Dad...  Please keep your voice down...” I say through my firmly clenched jaw.

"Well, he makes me mad, just like those fools in Washington.  The damn government certainly isn't doing anything for any of us these days, now is it?  I went to the pharmacy the other day and found out that half the prescriptions I get every month are no longer covered.  This whole world is going to Hell in a hand basket, if you ask me!"  Dad says all of this with sparks flying from his eyes.

"John!  John!  Take it down a notch!" Mom screams as she closes the refrigerator door with her hip and carries more punch to the breakfast bar.

"Do you know that they supply Viagra to prisoners and they won't pay for mine?  How much could that damn little blue pill cost?"

"John!" Mom screams her interjection as she nearly drops her hand full of punch.

"Dad!  I didn't need to hear that!" I say as my hands nearly slap my own face with disgust.

"What?  Your Mom certainly doesn't complain!  But, I'm not going to spend 42 dollars to get it up whenever I damn well please!”

 "DADDDDD!!!!  PLEASE!  MY GOD!" I yell through my mortification.

"JOHN -- STOP THIS TALK RIGHT NOW!!!" Mom screams across the kitchen again, but this time the whole room seems to stop on a dime.

Well, isn't this just a dandy holiday?  Now, Dad has told everyone that he takes Viagra to keep Mom happy.  Simply perfect.  Just when I think it can't get worse, it does.

"John!  My goodness...Viagra?" shouts Aunt Lucy from across the family room.  All the jibber-jabbering among the white-haired crowd stops, and my crazy psychotherapist aunt is going into group therapy mode.  "John?  Marcy?  Do you two want to talk this out?  This is obviously a source of shame for both of you," she says as she walks closer to us and the crowd in the family room watches her like a street performer.  "I am here to tell you there is absolutely NOTHING wrong with wanting SEX...no matter HOW old you are.  You should NOT feel shame Marcy!

Oh God, it just doesn't stop.  I feel my lower lip drop and I hear at least two gasps from across the room.  I spot my cousin Louie in the corner near the fireplace trying to cover his obvious laughter.  My poor mom has disdain written all over her.  She knows as well as I do, that her sister is LOVING every minute of this charade.  I smell a fight, and I can't help but go into rescue mode.

"Okay!  Okay!"  I say with nervous laughter, hoping to stop the train wreck unfolding before me.  "This is all a big misunderstanding.  Dad was just joking.  Right Dad?" I flip my bang out of my eye and look at him with a raised brow.

The room is so still that I can hear Dad's gulp as he tries to compose himself.  Little do I know he was using his few seconds of silence to power up like a fighter for his next knockout punch.

"Oh, Lucy you are just jealous you aren't getting any!  You've been divorced so many times -- there's got to be a reason for it, right?”

Mom gasps, and Grandpa Charlie reaches out for a chair to stabilize himself.

"John!  How dare you?!?" Lucy screams with a tone I'd never heard from her before.

"What?  You want to talk about...?”

"Stop!  Stop!" I interrupt.  "Let's just all get another glass of punch and calm down.  It's Christmas, remember?  Let's all just enjoy the night," I say and sashay off toward Dad and Mom, hooking each of their arms in mine and dragging them into the bedroom behind closed doors.

"Jillian!" Mom shrieks.  "What are you doing?!"

Me?  I wonder if they have truly lost their minds.  Here I am, trying to sign a peace treaty in a time of holiday war, and they're asking me what I am doing?  It's not fair.  Why do I have to be the adult here?  This is getting embarrassing.

"Both of you are acting like children!" I say through gritted teeth.

There’s a stunned silence and I look down.  I can't quite believe that I'm stuck in this situation.