Page 1 of The Christmas Letters
Chapter One
Tess
Adealisadeal.
I promised my parents, so I’m here.
But no matter how many times I remind myself of this fact, it doesn’t make the looming doors of the Southern Society any less appealing.
I shouldn’t be intimidated. I know these doors. I’ve walked through them a thousand times. I’ve gone to the luncheons and brunches, the book clubs and the soirees. I attended cotillion here and even held my debutante ball in the gathering space upstairs. In so many ways, this place made me who I am.
Who Iwas,anyway. Who I definitelydon’twant to be anymore.
But convincing my parents that reinventing myself is a good thing hasn’t been so easy. New degree, new living situation, new job, new philosophy on life.Yeah.It’s a lot for them to swallow. So I’ve had to make some concessions.
Yes,I can use my trust fund to live on my own and pay for a second bachelor’s degree—this time in something I actually want—butonlyif I meet them at the yacht club for dinner once a week.Andvolunteer at the Southern Society.
Honestly, I’m not sure it’s worth it. But this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to living life on my own terms. If it means occasional dinner with my pretentious parents and a few hours a week volunteering with Mom’s pretentious friends, so be it.
I pull out my phone and call my cousin, Chloe, who also happens to be my best friend. We’ve been through a lot, Chloe and me, so it’s probably good we’re cousins. The blood relation makes our tolerance for each other higher than it might be if we were just friends.
“Hey,” Chloe says. “I’m on break, so I’ve only got a second. What’s up?”
“Remember when I said I was going to the Southern Society to volunteer?” I say. “Just kidding. I can’t actually do it.”
Chloe chuckles. “How far did you make it?”
“I’m on the sidewalk out front. But I really don’t want to go inside.”
“You can do it!” Chloe says in her best cheerleader voice.
“Can I though? Remind me again why I’m here, Chlo. Because I’d much rather walk the two blocks to Vera’s and get myself a caramel macchiato.”
“You’re there because you have to volunteer or your parents are cutting you off,” Chloe says. “But also, volunteering will be good for you.”
I frown, pacing back and forth on the wide Charleston sidewalk. “Can’t I just volunteer at the hospital?”
“Sure. I’ll save you all the bedpans.”
“Rude,” I mutter.
“Just go inside!” Chloe says. “The society women visit here all the time. They decorate. They bring treats. You’ll love it.”
“I haven’t seen Mrs. Greenly since the wedding,” I say, bringing up yet another excuse.
But Chloe doesn’t yield. “You can handle Mrs. Greenly,” she says. “She might bite, but she won’t break the skin.”
The reality is, facing down Mrs. Greenly is much less about not wanting to volunteer and much more about not wanting the inevitable scrutiny of reentering Charleston society. Just over a year ago, I was all anyone could talk about. I stayed away as long as I could, but now I’m back. And I’m not ready to face the consequences.
“Listen to me,” Chloe says. “This is my all-caps voice. You can do this. And it’s going to be different because you are different. And don’t let snooty Mrs. Greenly or anyone else tell you otherwise.”
“Am I different though?” I say. “Some days I wonder.”
“Stop it. I know you better than you know yourself and you’re a changed woman.” Sounds of the hospital drift through the phone, and Chloe says something to someone in the background. “Okay, gotta get back to work,” she says to me. “Love you lots!”
The call disconnects but before I can put my phone away, a text message from Chloe pops up on my screen. It’s a Ryan Gosling Hey Girl GIF with the words “I believe in you” stamped across the bottom. She’s been sending me cheesy Ryan Gosling GIFs as long as they’ve been a thing, and I will never get tired of them.
I should trust Chloe. Shedoesknow me better than anyone. And she also knows the world I grew up in. Well, mostly.
