Page 51 of Holly Jolly July

“Yeah. Anyway, Christmas with a fake tree isn’t Christmas at all. I’d rather have no tree than a fake one. So, no tree.”

“Your family Christmases sound like they’re from a storybook.”

My chest grows warm as I recall all the memories, then quickly cools. “It was. For a long time.”

“Not anymore?”

I shake my head. “After Grandpa passed, Grandma moved to a home and sold the farm. We tried to keep the tradition going, but most everyone decided to do their own Christmases, or go to Mexico, or snowbird down in Arizona. People grew up, left home, moved away. It was never really the same.”

“I’m sorry.”

Christmas now is an empty apartment, me decorating the place by myself while watching Christmas movies, walking down snowy Vancouver streets to look at all the lights and window shop solo. Christmas had been the time of year that had filled my heart and kept me going all year long, but now it’s hollow, memories echoing through my mind of how good it used to be, and how good it will be again once I have a family of my own. I thought I had a chance of that with Matt. I was wrong.

“At least I got to have it for a while. You never got to have it at all.”

Mariah shakes her head. “Nope. We never even had a tree.”

I gasp, mortified.

“And,” she adds, “we had to wait to open our presents until after Christmas dinner at my grandparents’ house.”

I lean away from her, my face contorting with over-the-top horror, which elicits a small smile from Mariah.

“AndI was the only kid there,” she says, continuing the nightmare. “It was always quiet and boring. Except when myaunt came.” She trails off for a moment, lost in her thoughts. “Then it was interesting.”

“I’m glad at least one person in your family kept things fun.” I turn back to the TV as Kevin McCallister lives it up in his parents’ mansion all alone.

We settle back into the silence, but this time it’s a little less uncomfortable. Maybe it’s the conversation, maybe we’re becoming friends, or maybe it’s the bottle and a half of wine we’ve consumed. I do feel pleasantly warm and buzzed.

“What do you think Kevin’s parents do for work?” I ask, interrupting the quiet.

A hint of a smile meets Mariah’s face, which is rosy from drink. “I’m sure the mom is the leader of a crime syndicate.”

I grin. “Maybe the dad is a porn star.”

“Or they could be—”

Mariah’s phone rings. She looks at it and her smile falls off her face.

“Who is it?” I ask, leaning in.

She shows me the phone.Jax.

“Answer it!” I urge.

“What? No! What do I say?”

“Just pretend everything is normal.”

She shakes her head. “I suck at lying.”

“It’s not lying,” I argue. “It’sacting.”

“Yeah, I suck at that, too.” She worries her bottom lip with her teeth.

The phone goes silent, and we release slow exhales. Then we both startle at the sound of my phone ringing. I look at the screen, then flash it to Mariah.Matt.

Her eyes widen. “That asshole! I didn’t answer so he calls you?”

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