Nuttin’ For Christmas

Part 9 in Thurmount Holiday (see the category  “Thurmount Holiday” for the other entries).

I don’t remember this much snow ever. I am sitting in my childhood bedroom, which hasn’t changed. I still have a single bed in a pink room that’s shared with another single bed where Megan used to sleep, but it feels weirdly comfy, kind of cozy after lying in a huge bed by myself. I watch the snow fall through the panes of glass. Through the skeletal trees I see the mountains where Megan, Will, and I used to hike.

I glance at my cell. Will still hasn’t texted me or called. I’m becoming a bit stupid about it all. I keep playing our song that he sings, over and over until I know that I need to release myself. I see him singing, strumming his guitar, his blue eyes vivid. There’s missing and then there’s missing.

Why am I so upset? Will can live any life he chooses. And he deserves the best because he is the best.

Even as I think it, I know it’s true. Me, on the other hand. Well, there have been times I have treated him like crap and do I blame him for wanting to get away from me? Nope. Not much.

I change from my oversized t-shirt that I sleep in to jeans and a green Henley top and go downstairs where the smell of coffee and bacon and pancakes means heaven.

My mom smiles when she sees me. I am almost a carbon copy of my mom, except her features may be a bit straighter than mine. Her nose is aquiline while mine is a bit more rounded, but our hair, red, our eyes, green, and our lips, full, are the same.

“Are you sleeping well?” she asks me.


“There’s a little shadow under your eyes.”

“Hereditary,” I say.

“Not from my side,” she says.

We laugh. I chomp on a slice of bacon. In the New Year I have decided to go vegetarian. These will be the last days of bacon and salami and whatever the gods of meat delights throw my way. It might be tough touring because I already know that there are some places where I might end up eating a tossed salad and French fries as dinner.

My dad is out shoveling snow from the driveway. I can hear the scraping of the shovel over blacktop.

“The Watson’s caroling party is tonight. Are you coming?” Mom asks.

I see myself shrinking inward. No, no,no. “Okay. Sure.”

She smiles and nods. “Blake will be there.”

Crap. Decision made too soon.

“Yay,” I say in my most sarcastic voice.

“Now, Kay, you know he’s going through things.”

“Yup. Multimillionaire status, numerous women, and probably a few STDS.”

“Kayla Leigh!”

“Oops. You were paying attention?”

My mother bites her lip. In that way Megan is a lot like Mom. Bite the lip to keep your emotions in. I never learned it. Everything hangs pretty loose with me. Why keep a good emotion in when you can vent the hell out of it?

“Is Will going to be there?” I ask, pouring real maple syrup over my pancakes and also hoping my question sounded nonchalant. Silly me.

Mom looks at me. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Sure that something is wrong. It would be the only reason why I haven’t heard from him.

“If he’s going to be there.”

I’m sure my shoulders sag. I thought she would tell me that there was some emergency on a far distant planet he needed to attend to.

“His face bespoke his soul,” Mom says.

“What?” I look at her like she’s going crazy. Maybe she has. It’s probably in the genes, because I feel like I am crazyville.

“It’s a quote from Voltaire.”

“Of course. Because that’s fitting.”

Mom smiles. I hope that I am as pretty as she is when I am fifty-odd. “You seem pretty anxious about Will these days.”

I pick up a piece of bacon and examine it as if I have never seen a piece before. I bite off the end. “Not me. Will and me are the bestest of buds.”

Her eyebrow raises. My eyes widen.

“What? We are.”

“Then why don’t you know if he’s going to be at the party tonight?”

Ah, smart move, Mom. You’ve got me there. My chin wobbles. Damn.

She startles me by moving quick and hugging me. “Oh, Kay. It will all be fine. Just because you’ve had a misunderstanding.”

“There’s no misunderstanding. He has a Luanne.”

“A what?”

“A Luanne who has practically six feet of legs and boobs and blonde hair.”

Mom frowns. “Huh. So you didn’t chase him away?”

I nod and feel a stupid tear on my cheek. “I probably did without knowing. I probably chased him right into her exceedingly toned arms. I need to work out more.”

Mom laughs and smooths my hair. “He won’t have gone far. Will loves you.”

“He used to love me.”


end 12/13/2016

S. Darlington

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