Page 41 of Holiday Star
“Here’s the starfish ornament we got on a family trip to Hawaii when I was ten. This tiny stethoscope Brandon and Liv gave me when I graduated from medical school. This is the paper snowman Teddy made when he was in kindergarten.”
Caleb picks up the last one, Teddy’s snowman, and inspects it carefully, turning it this way and that. His gaze moves to the Christmas tree and then the stockings that hang by the fireplace with all our names on them: Mom, Seth, Brandon, Liv, Teddy, Gwen, Maddie, and Megan. When he finally looks back at me, there’s something forlorn in his expression.
“What is it?” I ask, concerned by the shift in his emotions.
“It’s just…” He trails off, shoulders drooping. A long sigh, then he tries again. “It’s just being here and seeing all this.” He holds up Teddy’s snowman, with its crudely drawn mouth and Q-Tip arms. “It makes me see everything I missed out on, and I guess that hurts. I mean, I’ve had some amazing experiences. I’ve done things and been to places that most people would envy. But most Christmases I’ve been by myself or with acquaintances. Not with family. I never made an ornament in school. I’ve never evenowneda stocking to hang. I don’t know…Christmas with you, learning how your family does it, makes me think that maybe I’d like to have a box like this one day, full of memories made with the people I love.”
I place my hand on his tense upper arm and squeeze gently. “I don’t see why you can’t have that, Caleb. If that’s what you want.”
“No.” Each word is laced with melancholy. “That life’s not for me. Not with the way I’m living now.”
I open my mouth, about to say something comforting, when he gives himself a small shake and cuts me off with a gruff, “Show me some more.”
Okay. Conversation over. Got it.
Digging deep into the box, I pull out a rough wooden reindeer, crudely painted brown with white-tipped hooves and a red nose. I swallow thickly, thinking about how a minute ago Caleb was sad and now, apparently, it’s my turn. “My dad made this. Hand carved it. He and my mom didn’t have any money when they got married. For their first Christmas living together, he created this, so they’d have at least one ornament on their tree. My mom painted it.”
I have a flashback to when I was in middle school, Mom holding the reindeer up and laughing at her horrible paint job. “Look, honey,” she said to me, “you’re a much better painter than I ever was.”
Jenny, who knows me so well, breaks in before I get too lost in my memories. “Come on, Gwen,” she says, coming to stand behind me. “Help me put on the tinsel.”
Her distraction works. While we decorate, I deliberately let go of the conversation Caleb and I just had and instead embrace the spirit of the holiday.Focus on the present,I remind myself. Jenny and I dance around to the music, sprinkling tinsel on the tree branches like we’re fairies doling out pixie dust until the whole tree sparkles.
“Crank up the music,” we shout to Caleb, who complies. The two of us croon along to the Christmas songs loudly and off key. We try to get Caleb to sing with us, but he’s obstinate, crossing his arms across his chest and shaking his head with a bemused smile on his face. “It’s more fun to listen to you butcher the songs,” he says, laughing.
Wealllaugh and talk, the three of us, as we work on the tree. There’s an easy familiarity growing between us. It’s a feeling of friendship, and I love to see Caleb relax into it. He smiles more now than he did when he first arrived. He laughs more freely. There’s something loosening in him. Knots coming untied, the way I untangled those Christmas lights with his help.
Jenny’s changed, too. She talks to Caleb like he’s human now, like one of us, and it makes me proud. She had a lot more invested in the false dream of movie star Caleb than I did, so I know it was hard for her to let go of that. To accept the reality of him, messy as it is.
After the ornaments have been carefully hung, we step back to admire the results. It’s a beautiful tree, deep green and tall. The top almost scrapes the ceiling. Colorful lights twinkle, reflecting off ornaments that dangle and twirl from the branches. My family’s history is in this tree. All of our fondest memories are commemorated here.
“Where’s your special star?” Jenny asks me.
“What star?” Caleb looks at me curiously as he bends down to scratch Pip’s head. She’s under his feet as usual.
“We have this old, battered star for the top of the tree. We got it when Teddy was born,” I explain. “Every year, my dad would put me on his shoulders and lift me to place it up there.” I smile at the memory. “It made me feel special, thatIwas the one to carry the star. Never Brandon or Teddy, just me.”
I turn to Jenny, answering her question. “Mom took it with her to Japan. She didn’t expect me to get a tree here all by myself.”
I pause, looking around the room and thinking. So many times in my life I’ve felt out of place. Insecure with Jax and his friends, believing I wasn’t cute or charming enough. Too consumed with grief to share the same carefree joy that my classmates had in college.
Today, I haven’t experienced that uncomfortable twinge once. That little voice questioning if I’m good enough has remained silent. Which is strange. I’m living with and kissing one of the most famous actors in America. I’d guess that if anything could trigger my insecurities, that would be it.
But I don’t feel unworthy when I’m with Caleb. I feel empowered, knowing that he has his flaws just as I have mine. I’m understanding that people may seem perfect from the outside, but that many people are struggling inside. All those times I compared myself to others and came up short, I was seeing the image they presented, not the real person underneath.
“I’m not all by myself like my mom thought I would be.” Looking at Caleb and Jenny, a sense of warmth and belonging fills me up. “I’ve got you guys.”
I give Jenny a hug, wrapping my arms around her. “Thank you for the tree. It’s wonderful.”
She squeezes me back, a little too tight, just like usual.
Caleb echoes my sentiment. “Yeah, thanks, Jenny.”
His eyes find me, skewering me with their sincerity. “Thanks to you, too, Gwen. For letting me stay here, welcoming me into your world.”
His smile is devastating.
I’ll never recover from it.
