Page 48 of Christmas Crisis
“Yes on the Guinness, thanks,” I said. “With the French dip and fries.”
“You got it.”
Katy went back into the kitchen as the music switched and “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” came on the vintage jukebox. From another table, several folks waved at Miranda. She returned the greetings, but no one bothered us. Hopefully, Stone’s handlerswouldn’t be too upset that the townsfolk in Coleman Creek had better things to do than try to grab under-the-table shots of us for the internet.
“I danced with Katy at the wedding. Seeing her reminds me that she spent the entire time we were dancing telling me how great you were.” I chuckled. “Not even slightly subtle.”
Miranda waved her wrist in a circle. “For sure. Everyone we know has been shipping us for years. They’ll be thrilled about this development.”
She was right, of course, but I noticed she stopped short of taking the thought to its logical conclusion—that our family and friends would be very disappointed when we told them we were breaking up. Or that we’d been faking the whole time. I still wasn’t sure what our exit plan was.
For the millionth time, I wished Stone wasn’t in the picture. Then I could tell Miranda how I felt, how things had changed for me over the past few months. But even asexuals knew the rules. You didn’t declare yourself to other people’s partners.
Instead, I switched the subject. “Katy sounded like she had something in mind when she mentioned how tough it is to have your life play out in front of people.”
“You know she’s a single mom, right?”
“Sure. I’ve met her kids a few times.” I laughed heartily as a memory surfaced. “Wasn’t it her kid who had a meltdown and tripped you, and you ended up spilling all the champagne at James and Marley’s engagement party?”
Miranda covered her face with her hands. “Too soon! I’m still traumatized. I know Braxton didn’t mean it, but that is one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life.” She shuddered, but her words were light. It was good that she could see some humor in the situation now, a year later. She’d been so on edge that night, partly because she knew I wasn’t thrilled about her relationship with Stone.
“Alright,” I said. “Point taken. But what does her being a single mom have to do with her airing her shit out in front of people?”
“I don’t want to speak out of turn,” Miranda said. “But there’re parts everyone in town knows. She had a pretty shitty divorce. Long story short, her husband turned out to be a cheating bastard. Besides having to raise tiny children mostly on her own, she also has to deal with some of our less-awesome neighbors giving her smugI told you sofaces because Mike was not well-liked, to put it mildly.”
“Say no more.” I put up my hands. “I’ve talked to Katy enough to know she’s awesome, so whoever this Mike is, he’s the loser in this situation.”
“Huge understatement.” Miranda grinned, and my heart skipped at how radiant and lit from within she appeared.
Fifteen minutes later, Katy dropped off our food. The Landslide’s basic menu obviously hadn’t changed in decades, but the fare was delicious in the way only small-town bar food could be. Like the recipes had been perfected over generations. The walls of the place reflected the same hometown aesthetic, covered in photos of Coleman Creek citizens over the years.
After finishing our dinners, we played pool, and I caught Miranda staring at a faded color photo tacked up near the restrooms. In it, a couple sat at a booth near the bar, smiling widely, brown beer bottles in hand. Based on the clothes and hair, I guessed the picture was taken in the mid-to-late 80s. The man had silvery-blond hair and deep wrinkles next to his eyes. The woman appeared significantly younger.
And familiar.
“Your mom?” I asked. I'd never seen photos of Alice Davis at this age.
“And my dad.” Miranda’s response caused me to do a double take. “He was twenty-five years older than her.” She tsked. “Itwas quite the scandal back in the day, but they didn’t care. They made it work for fifteen years.”
I knew Miranda’s father died when she was a baby, but I didn’t know he’d been that much older than her mom. The only picture of him at the house was a faded wedding photo.
Staring at the image, there was no doubt in my mind that Miranda’s parents had been deeply in love. “Fifteen years doesn’t seem like a long time,” I said. “Then again, some people go their whole lives without ever finding love for even a day.”
She must have caught the hitch in my voice because she coiled her arm around my elbow. “I know it’s been a while since we talked about…about…” She whooshed out a breath. “It’s been a minute since we did any kind of deep dive into your being asexual. And I know you’re living a perfectly complete and full-throated existence without a romantic partner. But I hope you never forget how much love you have in your life. You’re my best friend in the world. It might not be the same as what my parents had, or what people imagine when they think of a relationship, but I do love you, Leo-Bear.”
I leaned over to kiss the top of her head. “I love you too, Panda. And trust me when I say our relationship has fulfilled me in ways I didn’t even know were possible.” She had no idea how much.
Her expression was serious as she gazed up at me. “No matter what happens, after all of this. With Stone or…whatever. Never forget that I love you. Even when we were fighting and not talking, I never stopped.”
I couldn’t decipher her words. Or figure out why she sounded so forlorn. My guess was that she wanted to make a real go of things with Stone and was trying to put me on notice that she might need to spend time working on that.
She reached out with a finger to touch the image of her father. “He died when I was fourteen months old. Maureen has some memories of him, but it’s sketchier for Marley, and I don’tremember a thing. Our mom told us some stories, but mostly, he’s an enigma. Except the one thing everyone who’s known our family seems to agree on is that, of the three of us, I’m the most like him personality-wise. Mom used to say I got his cheerful temperament and wicked sense of humor. When I started traveling in college, she talked to me about how he’d done the same thing in his early years, before they met. His employees at the plant loved him because he was a good boss. The kind who let you off early if your kid had a baseball game and never had a harsh word for anyone. It makes me feel good to know we’re alike, that I have something of his legacy even if he didn’t get to raise me. I don’t miss him the way I miss my mom, of course, but I wish I could have met him.” She paused before concluding, “I feel his absence. Not like grief. More like a missed opportunity.”
I pulled her to my side and glanced at the picture again. At her father’s wide-open smile, so like hers. “I’m sure he’d be proud of you.”
“I hope so.”
“Miranda?”
