Page 61 of Holiday at Home
That first year, I was inconsolable. Mom just hugged me and Dad looked like he might do bodily harm to Simon if he ever saw him again. A look I wasn’t used to seeing on my father but deeply appreciated at the time.
The next year was better, but I couldn’t get out from under the funk.
Last year? I almost felt normal.
And this year?
This year, everything’s up in the air.
My parents are gone, and I feel their loss so acutely.
I’m living in their house. Running their bakery.
Simon’s back in my life and that’s helped… but for how long? And to what end? Every time I think about him leaving, my mind starts up the doom loops.
I don’t want to doom loop.
It’s Christmas Eve. I have family surrounding me. They deserve a happy Violet. An enjoyable holiday. No one wants to hear about my fears and concerns regarding an upcoming heartbreak I willingly signed up for.
But Simon’s acting…
Well, he’s off. There’s no better way to put it.
His smile is wide, false, and a little crazed. He’s constantly moving, like a toddler fighting a nap. If he’s sitting, his foot is jiggling, or his fingers are tapping. But mostly he’s perpetually in motion, playing with Nash, joking with Robbie, hunting down snacks, rearranging ornaments on the tree…
Nash is eating it up like he’s got a new playmate, but me?
It’s making me nervous. The vibes he’s giving off? Pure guilt.
Simon’s track record with Christmas Eve isn’t great.
And that’s it. It’s all I can take.
Propelled into motion by nerves, I lurch off the couch, mutter an excuse, then head into the kitchen where I stare at the counter like it might know why I’m here. The memory of wrapping my legs around Simon’s waist is chased away by the thought of his fingers tap, tap, tapping on the arm of the sofa. I put my hands on my hips and blow a puff of air past pursed lips.
Something’s wrong.
Something’s on his mind.
Something he’s afraid to talk about.
“What’s uh, what’s going on?” Nora asks from the doorway. Her eyes say she knows, but her tone suggests she won’t push, that she’ll give me the grace to tell her if I want to.
And it turns out I very much want to.
“Simon is freaking me out.”
Nora pushes off the doorway and folds both elbows on the counter beside me. “He’s giving quadruple espresso vibes, isn’t he?”
I yank open the fridge, peek inside, then close it again. “Do you want a cheese ball? I feel like I should make a cheese ball.”
“I don’t think we need a cheese ball.”
“I just need something to focus on that’s not him. I think I’m gonna make a cheese ball.”
“That’s a temporary cure, Vi. Hiding from the problem won’t make you feel better.” Her voice softens.“But I get it. You’ve had enough hurt for one holiday season.”
“I don’t know. Our parents made a career out of people eating their feelings. It works for everybody else. Why wouldn’t it work for me?”
