Page 55 of Holiday Hopefuls
“You do know that I live in the same exact place as you, right? We share a mailbox and everything,” Chris asks. If his brow stays furrowed for much longer, it may never look normal again.
I nod. “Yep, and everyone here thinks that’s weird,” I answer for our entire family.
My brother glares up from where he’s seated while his sister stands gracefully. “Please?” she asks again.
Blinking, I realize she’s serious. “Um, yeah, of course.” Honestly, if we all truly liked each other, the twins and I could carpool every other week—we only live a few blocks from one another. But that would require a stronger relationship than bickering at family dinners every two weeks.
Then again, if Connie continues showing up to Aaron’s gigs … we may just get somewhere, after all.
Or they will.
Connie kisses our parents goodbye while I shift from foot to foot.
“Calloway?” My father stands, dropping a used napkin where his plate once sat. “Is Oliver joining us up at Aspen Point this year?” While the man’s face may be open and curious, the underlying sheen of antagonism dares to try and break through the facade.
“I think he’ll be with his family for the holidays.” A light bulb goes off in my mind. “They usually go and visit his grandma in Boston.” I give myself a little pat on the back for remembering that tiny tidbit. “Maybe next time.” Shrugging, I smile.
And try to ignore the sting of knowing how false my statement truly is.
Marshall, Sandra, and Blythe invade the forefront of my mind, their faces warm and welcoming. The genuine feeling of home.
I wonder if they've asked about me.
No, no. Thanksgiving only. That was the deal.
Dad doesn’t bother responding before heading toward the living room, ready to turn on whatever game is on tonight.
“Ready Calloway?” Connie holds out my coat.
Swallowing, I take it from her and we make our way to my snowtopped car. I’m proud of my car. I bought it when I was nineteen with my own money. I’d had a job for three years and, with supplemental money from years of babysitting, I was able to afford it without the help of my parents. While my siblings took the fancy vehicles Ira and Lillian supplied, I wanted to make my own way. And of course, the other Rutherford children were able to eventually exchange their firsts for newer models. But I’ve had the same trusty Goaty for nearly nine wonderful years.
Goaty, since Mountain Goat is too long for everyday conversations.
But as my extremely successful, prim and proper sister climbs into Goaty’s worn interior, I can’t help but feel a twinge of resentment. Of their success. Of their financial stability.
Of them clearly all being cut from the same cloth, while I’m just … not.
The engine roars to life, the trusty heater and radio blasting from having left them on when I was last here. Buckling my seatbelt, I glance over at my sister in her dark slacks and beige cardigan. The excess glitter on my seats may just be what she needs to finally win Aaron over. Though, who am I kidding?
Aaron’s been hers for years.
If only they were smart enough to figure it out.
“Maybe Chris needs to get laid,” I blurt out. Both my hands grip the wheel with a dangerous amount of tension while I try to not face palm myself.
But Connie surprises me by bursting into laughter.
Wide eyes slide toward her, testing to see if I’ve upset her.
“Maybe so.” Connie grins down at her lap. “I do apologize for his behavior.”
“Which time?” I grumble.
“Chris really is a good person. He’s supportive, and great at his job. He does his best with any task thrown his way, big or small,” she insists. “Not to mention, he has an amazing eye for detail. That’s probably why he’s so good at his job. But I think he’s lonely.”
“How can he be lonely?” Brows knitting together, my frown feels less alone. “You two are always together. Well, except for right now. But you sleep next door to one another. You carpool to and from work and Mom and Dad’s house. And probably everywhere else. He even came with you to see Aaron’s band play last time, and I highly doubt that was his idea of a good time.”
“Yes,” she nods, “but what you’ve found with Oliver—I think Chris is a little jealous.”
