Page 37 of Together

“That’s good. You’ll let me know if that changes?”

“Sure.”

If she’s trying to be convincing she’s failing miserably. We’ll get there, though. Eventually. When we have the chance to learn more about each other and build trust. It might be too soon now, but it won’t always be this way.

“So what’s your plan for the rest of the day?”

“Family dinner tonight.”

“What’s on the menu?”

“Pasta. Lots and lots of pasta. Lasagna, ziti, fettucine alfredo, shrimp scampi. Lots of garlic bread, mixed green salad, some other veggies that we all pretend we want on our plates to compensate for the plethora of carbs.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“It is. It’s my favorite.”

“Which one?”

She makes a sound similar to a scoff. “Uh, all of them? What’s not to love about pasta?”

Grinning, I admit, “Not a thing. I agree with you completely about this subject.”

“That’s good. What are you guys eating?”

“My brother-in-law is smoking a giant pork butt. We’ll have some cheesy hash brown casserole to go with it, and whatever else my sister has planned. I try to help but she’s insistent. Since it’s just us, I let her have it.”

“Just you?”

“Our parents passed around ten years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Not your fault, but thank you. Tell me what else you do for the holiday.”

She seems to sense that I don’t want to talk more about the subject of my parents and quickly continues. “Since it’s Christmas Eve, we get to open one gift with our matching pajamas because we’rethatkind of family. My mom buys them for us every year. Overnight, Santa will come and drop the gifts for the kids,” she says and I interrupt with a teasing, “like you,” and she aptly replies, “obviously, because I’m the youngest and there’s no grandbabies yet,” before continuing with her story. “My dad will demand that we watchA Wonderful Life.”

“My sister makes me watchWhite Christmasevery year.”

“Oh no.”

“Right. It’s brutal.”

“Brutal?” She laughs. “Oof. That’s harsh. That’s the one that they sing about sisters and on a train. ”

“It’s the truth,” I counter. “In fact, your examples just now only prove my point.”

In the background, I hear someone calling her name. Her mother, maybe. “Just a second!” Ashley calls out, the sound muffled slightly. With a heavy sigh, she tells me, “I’m being summoned to help decorate a gingerbread house.”

“Fun.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she grumbles.

“Ashley?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for calling me. It was good to hear your voice.”

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