Page 42 of Back Home For Christmas

“I’ll have to make some time,” she said slowly, with lots of secret meaning.

“Text me when you are free,” in between mixing drinks and passing them off to customers, Steve kept turning his gaze on us, trying to figure out what was going on. He could keep guessing because I would never tell a soul.

I wandered the Christmas fair carefully, wishing I didn’t have to peek around corners and watch my back as I enjoyed the atmosphere of the holiday celebration. I probably looked like I was high on drugs or some sort of CIA agent searching for a criminal. Neither a great look. Some tiny part of me, when I had danced with Jay and spent the night with him, had hoped this fair would be drastically different. I had hoped that it would look like it had when we walked the streets of Ocean Park looking for food.

But that was a ridiculous fantasy, and I felt like a foolish child for ever having thought it. I knew who Jay was. I had always known. I couldn’t believe the stupid, impulsive choices I made. I blinked away my tears. I don’t know how long I walked before my phone finally buzzed.

Meet me at Lark

Be there in 5

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I turned on my heels and hurried off Main Street, leaving the street fair behind. As “Blue Christmas” done in big band brass faded behind me, I weaved through quiet side streets, mostly residential, until I came to The Lark. Inside smelled like patchouli, pine and jasmine, as I navigated the aisles filled with secondhand clothes, crystals, natural beauty products and meditation bowls situated next to spell work and candles. Off the beaten path, few people made their way to The Lark, which happened to be my go to shopping destination and fashion inspiration as a teen. Even now, walking through, I saw several things that caught my eye.

The owner was a woman my mother’s age who had convinced her daughter to run it in her retirement. I felt a pang of guilt that my own mom should have been at the point of retirement, but apparently wouldn’t get the opportunity unless our shop turned around, or Jay came to the rescue, apparently.

I made it to the back of the shop where little meditation pillows were set up in the corner filled with books, where Jenna already sat. The coffee place was our go to spot, but this was our secret meeting place when we couldn’t be at home or on the beach.

“What’s going on?” Jenna asked before I even sat. I hadn’t been sure what I would tell Jenna and what I would keep private, but as soon as I started talking, the words started pouring out. I told her about Darren and Aubrey (which she already heard but listened to politely), Darren’s loan, my parent’s struggling business, getting chocolate with Jay and how nice he had been, and about what Aubrey had said. She took it all in, nodding and making active listening sounds.

“And,” I said miserably. “I slept with Jay.”

“You slept with Jay!” She shouted before covering her mouth.

“I feel like a total idiot.”

“I don’t think you should feel like an idiot. He is hot.”

“And a horrible person.”

“Really? You think Jay is just using you and your brother to get control of the shop?”

“When you put it that way, it sounds stupid. And no, that isn’t what I think. I think that Jay can’t help himself. He can’t be involved in something and not turn it into the Jay show. Making everything about him.”

“Now you agree with Aubrey?” She asked. Why was she always to reasonable?

“I don’t know why you are so desperate to defend Jay. Aubrey is a bitch, but she knows Jay better than anyone,” I said. “And her opinion doesn’t matter. Jay sabotaged my only chance at the scholarship, and now he is micromanaging Darren and the shop into oblivion.”

“I think you need to have a real conversation with all of them,” she said.

“Why should I bother?” I asked. “This isn’t any of my business. I don’t care one way or the other what Jay does or doesn’t do. My brother made his bed.”

“I think you do care,” she used her careful voice that she saved when she was trying to prevent Cat, the ticking time bomb, from going off.

“No, I don’t care. This isn’t my problem,” I realized my volume was getting too loud, and I reverted back to a whisper. I didn’t need October hearing my shit show of a life. “I have to finish my essay.”

“Maybe there is a reason you haven’t finished school,” she said.

“And what reason would that be?”

“I don’t know, because you don’t want to,” she said with a shrug.

“Why wouldn’t I want to? It’s all I have going for me,” I said.

“Is it?”

“Yes,” I said, feeling frustrated that her words mirrored Jay’s.

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