Page 74 of The Tattered Gloves
She shrugged, grabbing a mug from the cabinet for herself. “I always wake up early.”
Reaching into the refrigerator, she handed me the whipped cream and watched as I tried to operate the nozzle with my gloves. Before I ended up with white fluff everywhere, I sheepishly handed it back to her, and like a small child, I waited for her to top off my cup.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
“Of course.”
“No, I mean, thank you. For everything. For the food and the tree. For the presents I keep catching you sneak under the tree.”
“I’ve caught you a few times myself,” she replied.
I smiled a little.
“You don’t have to do it all, you know. I’d be happy with anything.”
Her face softened as she set the cup down on the counter. “I know that. You think, after all these months together, I don’t know you? The girl I brought into this house would have been happy with receiving a can of soup and a deck of cards for Christmas.”
I shrugged. “It would be more than I got last year.”
Or any other year for that matter.
“But have you ever considered that you deserve more, Willow?” she asked, leaning against the counter, as the fragrant smells of the holidays filled the tiny kitchen.
“Sometimes, I guess, but I figured I just wasn’t worth it.”
“Why?” she pressed.
Because I’m no one, a tiny voice in my head answered.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Well, start thinking about it. Life throws a lot of crap our way, some more than others. When my daddy died and your mom left, I was alone. Truly alone for the first time in my life.”
“What did you do?” I asked, holding my cup of cocoa close to my face. The heat warmed my lips as she spoke.
“Well, for a while, I was just angry and mad. I was young, and the only family I had was gone. So, I blamed them. I blamed my father for screwing up our lives. I blamed Evie for not having the guts to stick it out. And then I blamed myself for not being strong enough to keep it together.”
“Keep what together?”
“Everything, honestly. After I was done blaming everyone else, there was no one else to blame but myself. So, that’s what I did. I blamed myself for not noticing the signs of my father’s addiction and eventual sickness. And I convinced myself that it was my fault Evie had turned out the way she did. I was the mature one, I should have been more motherly.”
“But it wasn’t your job,” I said.
“I know that now, but then?” She shook her head. “I spent a long time feeling guilty for everything that had happened to our family, convinced I was the cause of it all. But then I met someone who changed my perspective.”
My interest piqued. “Who?”
A wistful smile spread across her face. “Sam’s mother.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I decided on saying nothing at all. Instead, I took a sip of my hot chocolate, letting it warm my body, as my aunt shared yet another story from her long life.
“I’d found work at a local diner called The Short Stack in Charlottesville, far away from anyone who would recognize me. Growing up, we would have never set foot in a place like that… which was why it was perfect for me.”
“You were hiding,” I stated.
She nodded. “Too afraid to leave yet too proud to stay. So, I hid in plain sight, knowing none of my old friends would come looking for me in a greasy diner. It was good work. Hard work, I’ll admit. The silver platter I’d been dining on my entire life had not prepared me for the backbreaking work of standing for hours on end. But I got used to it, and eventually, I even made a few friends. Laura was different from anyone I’d ever known. She was bold and captivating, full of wit and humor and love.”
Like Sam, I couldn’t help but think silently to myself.
