Page 29 of Grinchland
“Not for me,” she said as her laughter died down to a giggle.
That I could believe. Nothing seemed to be enough for this woman.
“Why do you like Christmas so much? And why is it always this holiday? I’ve never seen someone go this insane over the Fourth of July.”
Clara poked her needle into the armrest of the couch and shifted so she could sit facing me. I wanted to take my question back. I hadn’t meant to distract her. I wanted off of this crazy Christmas merry-go-round, and I feared that would never happen when I kept stupidly engaging her in conversation.
She crisscrossed her legs in front of her and rested her elbows on her knees. She steepled her fingers before pressing them to her lips while looking deep in thought.
“Thing is, it’s not so much Christmas that I love. It’s…everything. The decorations, the songs, the people.”
I frowned at her last word. I actively avoided people when I could. If Clara noticed, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she continued to stare off with a dreamy expression.
“It’s just that this time of year, everything is better.” She glanced over at me and pulled back. My expression must have accurately depicted my emotions because she gave me a once-over before she knit her eyebrows together. “Obviously, you don’t feel the same. What about you? Have you always hated Christmas so much you wanted to ban it?” Her tone had turned cheeky as she reached out and smoothed the material of her couch with her hand.
There was so much to unpack in that question, and I doubted she wanted to hear any of my reasons. There was also the little fact that I didn’t talk about Nicole anymore, and I wasn’t about to start with her, so I just shrugged. “I used to tolerate it.”
I could feel Clara’s gaze on me.
“You obviously don’t tolerate it anymore,” she said, her voice soft as she shifted her focus back to the couch cushion. She was quiet for a second before glancing up at me. “So you’re telling me that you’ve never had a memorable Christmas? One that you’d never forget?”
Christmas lights. Decorations. Snow…sirens.
I did have a Christmas that I would never forget no matter how much I wanted to.
The holiday just happened to correspond with the night my life had changed forever. It was the reason my wife died, and I lived in constant fear that my daughter would return to her despondent state. I’d lost one important woman in my life, I wasn’t going to let Christmas take another. If I could save my daughter by getting rid of a holiday, I’d make that choice every time.
I stared at my hands. Then I looked at the popcorn that I’d been stringing before I slowly swept my gaze around the room, tuning into the music and movie playing next to me.
That’s when realization dawned. What was I doing?
“I, um…” I pulled the garland off my lap and stood, brushing the popcorn bits from my pants. “I need to go,” I said. I didn’t wait for Clara to respond. Instead, I turned and headed back to her room to get Isabelle.
“Um, okay,” Clara said as I heard her scramble to follow me.
I didn’t stop as I made my way through her house. As soon as I reached Isabelle, I hoisted her up and helped her adjust so her head was resting on my shoulder.
I could hear Clara behind me, but I didn’t address her. She was following me as I left her room in pursuit of the front door. Just as my hand found the handle, her voice stopped me.
“Did I do something wrong?”
The quiet way she spoke caused me to pause. I stared hard at the oak door in front of me before I glanced over my shoulder to see that Clara’s eyes were wide as she stared up at me.
A lot of thoughts rolled around in my mind, but I fought every one of them. Clara wasn’t here to stay. She had an expiration date. Plus, this was Grinchland—and if my plan worked, it would stay that way. We were two sides of a coin. Complete opposites.
She didn’t belong in my world like I didn’t belong in hers.
“I’ve just had enough Christmas spirit for one night.” I turned the handle and pulled open the door. Just as I stepped out onto her porch, I stopped. I didn’t want to leave her like this. There was a part of me that wanted to say more, I just wasn’t sure what I should say.
Without thinking, I turned to face her. “It was an adequate night.” I held her gaze for a moment before I turned and hurried down her steps.
Thankfully, she didn’t call after me. I felt her stare as she lingered on her porch. I kept my gaze forward, and as I made my way up my walkway, the sound of her door shutting sounded in the distance.
Once I was inside my house, I blew out my breath.
There was so much for me to unpack from my time with her, but that was the last thing I wanted to do. Right now, I was going to put Isabelle to bed, change into my pajamas, and crawl into bed. Then I was going to sleep.
I would save thinking about Clara for tomorrow.
