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“Butt out, would ya?” I shove her shoulder and turn my attention back to Whoville.
I try to focus on the movie, on our traditions, but my mind keeps wandering. It repeatedly finds its way to a petite, blonde goofball who is spending her Christmas Eve with women in need and their families. The more I learn about her, the harder I know it’s going to be when I have to let her go.
Chapter 24
Stella
Christmas Eve at the shelter is always a blast. I started working at their sister shelter back home when I was in high school. I helped provide free childcare to women who needed to work in the evenings. We would do homework, play games, have dinner together, and the best part was seeing them run up to their mom when they came back, seeing the joy and love on their faces. I could always see how it affected the women there, reaffirming their decision to try for something better for their families.
Instead of childcare today, though, I get to serve Christmas dinner. A local grocery store donated some turkeys, which we spent all day cooking, and the farmers market has been collecting potatoes, squash, Brussels sprouts, and loaves of bread for the last week. Combined with some donations from locals, and dessert provided by Maria andBooze & Brews, this is turning out to be our most successful Christmas yet.
I quickly snap a selfie of me and Vivian and send it off to Nessa, who I know has a difficult time around the holidays, checking in with her.
Vivian is the centre’s lead volunteer and working with her has been a dream. I don’t get to come here as often as I’d like, but she makes it a lot easier. The crinkles in her brown skin highlight her smile, and the grey hair threading through her tight, coarse curls gives her an air of dignity that only comes with age.
“Are you ready to go home?” Vivian asks me as I store my phone in my jeans pocket.
“I could stay a little longer if you want? Wash some dishes?” As much as my feet are aching for a break, I don’t want to go home to my empty apartment just yet.
Vivian has always seen right through me.
“It’s okay to be sad. This is your first Christmas on your own, isn’t it?”
“I’m visiting Dad tomorrow,” I mumble.
“Ah,” she nods her head. “But it’s not the same, is it?” I shake my head. Vivian wraps her arm around me in a brief hug.
“Well, girlie, staying here isn’t going to make that go away.” Hands on her hips, she stares me down, even though she’s at least three inches shorter than me. “Go home, let your heart feel what it needs, and get a good night’s sleep.”
“Thanks Viv,” I quickly kiss her cheek before grabbing my coat.
Now infinitely cozier in my neon pink bubble, I brave the cold walk back to my apartment. I love this coat. It’s one of the first good thrifted items I ever found. Even with the stretched seams and coffee stains (at least I hope it’s coffee) on the sleeves, something about it makes me feel safer.
Pink was always my mom’s favourite colour. It’s familiar, warm, and never fails to bring a smile to my face. The flash ofpain that accompanies the memory isn’t as sharp as it usually is, which I’m grateful for.
This may be my most difficult Christmas in my short life, but I’m determined to make the best of it, no matter what.
Chapter 25
Stella
What does one wear when meeting their best-friend’s-brother-with-benefits’ fancy schmancy parents for the first time? I’ve torn apart my entire closet and nothing I own is screaming “I’m a respectable young woman who owns clothes that aren’t second-hand.”
A rainbow of dresses decorates most of my living area as I flop down on the bed. The only thing I’ve found so far that’s remotely appropriate is a little black dress, some cute tights, and a bulky black headband to go with it. It’s giving “maybe going to a funeral later,” but at this point I’m out of options. Even if I hadn’t volunteered at the shelter today, I still wouldn’t have been able to head to the shops in time. I managed to snag the morning shift from Kyle who wanted to go out to Barrie to visit his nana, just to put a couple more bucks away before the holidays.
Even if you’d had time to shop, you wouldn’t have,I think to myself morbidly. Without looking at them, the weight of the envelopes at my front entrance pull at me. I can hear the screamsof the balances marked on them, the past due dates, the threats of going to collections.
It would be worse if I didn’t remember what the money was spent on.
Cab rides, healthy foods, ramp installation, shower modifications.I run through my mental list, letting the reminder calm me.
This is Christmas, and I’ll be darned if I let something as silly as money get me down.
I’ve already given the girls their gifts—some cute socks covered in different desserts for Nessa, and for Hazel, this gorgeous gold chain I found at the thrift shop. After years of living on a tight budget, I’ve learned the best ways to give great gifts without breaking the bank. I glance briefly at the small envelope on the kitchen table. James’ name is scrawled across in my best handwriting. It’s not much, and I don’t know what you’re supposed to get your best-friend’s-brother-with-benefits, but I couldn’t get him nothing.
My phone starts buzzing out of nowhere. Scrambling to find it in the carnage of clothes and blankets, I snag it right before it goes to voicemail.
“Hello?”
