Page 26 of Back Home For Christmas

“No, it’s cool,” he said with a laugh in his voice.

“I get it. I’m a nerd. At least I have hobbies. What do you do for fun that is so much cooler?” I asked. I dropped my crochet in my lap and crossed my arms over my chest, feeling the familiar anger with Jay coming back in full force. Since being home, he had seemed different in a way that I couldn’t put my finger on, a little nicer maybe, calmer, less laser focused on ruining my life. But maybe it was all in my head because now he was clearly making fun of me. The silence stretched again as the flurries gathered on the edge of the windshield.

“I don’t do anything,” he said. “For fun. You are right, at least in that. I am boring.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course, you do things for fun.”

“No, I really don’t,” he said, and he sounded so disgusted with himself that I almost believed him.

“You don’t watch a football game? Go out clubbing? Create dating profiles to lure in unsuspecting women?”

“You are so strange,” he said. “But no. I go out for happy hours with my colleagues in the city out of obligation. I’ll watch a football game because it’s on, and it will give me something to talk about the next day at work. And I certainly don’t have dating profiles.”

“Then what do you do? I mean, with all your free time?” I asked.

“I don’t have free time,” he said. “Or not much of it, anyway. I’m pretty busy with work. Honestly, I try to stay busy most of the time. When I’m not at work, I try to exercise and read, but that’s about it.” I wasn’t sure how to respond. If I let my impulsive brain have control of my mouth, I would say something shitty about how he deserved it, but I didn’t know if my life was all that much better just because I had a few hobbies. I barely had any friends at school. I went out with them a few times for happy hour, but always felt like an outsider looking in. I came home wondering if that feeling was all in my head or if they had felt it too, and it came out subtly in their conversations. I wasn’t exactly a workaholic like Jay, but I wasn’t a social butterfly, either. It meant in this instance; I didn’t really have a soap box to stand on and lecture him from. Instead, I felt a teeny tiny little bit of sympathy. It sounded like a lonely existence.

Chapter Eighteen

“Why not try to, I don’t know, step out of your comfort zone, try something different?” I asked after a heart beat of silence threatened to end the conversation.

“I guess it’s all the things you said about me. I’m arrogant and rigid and judgmental, but mostly I don’t know the first thing about what actually makes me happy. I see other people happy, finding joy in shit like knitting a cozy for their coffee,” he said taking a hand off the wheel to gesture toward my crochet.

“It’s crochet,” I corrected quietly because I physically could not resist an opportunity to correct him.

“But I don’t know what that thing is for me. I don’t know how to find that thing. My whole life was about behaving properly or working hard. My value, according to my parents, came from my contributions. My mom spent my entire childhood traveling. We moved to Cape Shore because my dad thought that would be enough to keep her happy, she loved the beach, but she was always looking for the next big thing. Nothing was ever enough for her, especially me. My dad, threw himself into his work, always physically present but worlds away. He had little tolerance for a child. He only ever paid attention when I got on the honor roll or made captain of the football team. Even then it was to post on social media or try to engage my mother.”

“That sucks. I guess that was why you were such a dick?” I asked. He shrugged. “But why not try to do something different now. You don’t have to be your father.”

“My value was always equated to my productivity, and I don’t know how to untether my self-worth from how much money I make or how successful I am. I don’t know how to relax and have fun. It probably doesn’t make any sense to someone like you,” he said.

“Someone like me?” I asked. “What does that even mean?”

“You have made it your life’s mission to single-mindedly follow your passions, even if your passions are super nerdy.”

“What are you talking about?” I said, despite the voice of self-preservation shouting in my brain to shut up. “I haven’t succeeded in a goddamn thing my whole life. I gave up on my passions with the failed scholarship contest. You have some penthouse apartment, enough money to retire tomorrow, and a swanky job that everyone oohs and ahhs about. I haven’t done shit. I have failed at almost everything I have tried. I gave up on photography for psychology. When no one was footing the bill for school, because of course my parents didn’t see a point in my education unlike Darren’s, I had to bust my ass at a full-time job. Somehow, by sheer luck, I managed to make it to my senior year only to lose my way and hit a roadblock completing my final assignment. Now I am here,” I spread my arms wide indicating nothing and everything all at once.

“Back in the same old life, doing the same old things, letting my parents and my brother tell me what to do and how to do it. All I ever wanted was to share my vision with the world. For someone to look at my photos and see into my soul and feel that same spark I feel. But I haven’t been able to pick up a damn camera for four years.” I felt tears burning in the back of my throat, as I swallowed hard to keep the emotions I didn’t want to share at bay.

Why the hell was I doing this? Jay didn’t give two shits about my sob story. He was one of the many people in my life who always made a point to remind me just how worthless I was. I remember the look on Aubrey’s face when she won the photo contest. That smug, condescending expression, like the world owed her. Then she didn’t even end up using the scholarship, which absolutely crushed me. And Jay was right there by her side the whole time, congratulating her while I died inside.

“I always liked your photographs,” he said, his voice held a sincerity I had never heard before, and I snorted out a laugh. He was a good bullshitter. “Objectively, by the world’s standards, I have achieved the pinnacle of success, but it isn’t enough. It isn’t ever enough. There is no magic moment where everyone you are trying to impress says, ‘there it is. You did it. Now you can go enjoy your life.’ You just keep busting your ass day in and day out. If there is something that brings you joy. You have to do it. You have to scoff at them the same way you scoff at me.Otherwise, you turn into me. Boring and miserable. But you, Kitty Cat, you are fun. That’s why I like being around you.”

“What?” I stammered. “You mean I am fun to laugh at? You don’t like being around me unless you are making fun of me.”

“No, you are funny, smart, and creative. You’ve just let the world convince you that you aren’t,” he said, hands on the wheel, eyes straight ahead as if I didn’t occupy the seat right next to him. As his voice trailed off, letting Celine Dion’s operatic stylings of the “First Noel,” fill the silence, the car felt claustrophobic. Like I couldn’t spend another second in the cramp space overcrowded with emotions. I had spent my life thinking I knew Jay, knew exactly who he was and what he thought and now here he was giving me the best pep talk of my life.

“I need a bathroom break,” I said. He didn’t say anything as we drove the next mile and a half to an exit, so he could find a grubby gas station. He pulled off the quiet highway and pulled into the first open station he found. As soon as the truck stopped, I pushed open the door and made a bee line into the bathroom.

Chapter Nineteen

I regretted my choice as soon as I pushed open the heavy, grimy door into the dimly lit bathroom that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in at least a decade. I wanted to take deep breaths and get my head on straight before getting back into the car, but the smell forced me to plug my nose and breathe only through my mouth as I fell apart in a panic.

“What the hell is happening?” I asked my reflection in the scratched, distorted mirror. I couldn’t imagine getting back into that car. Shit was getting far too real for my liking. I needed a reality check. Jay was Darren’s best friend. He was an asshole, no matter how good of a kisser he was—at least when I was too drunk to know better. He had bullied me my whole life. I don’t know why he was suddenly this nice guy telling me exactly what I needed to hear, but I had to find a way to bolster my defenses. I had to get back in the car and get back to hating Jay. This trip home was hard enough without weird, uncomfortable feelings getting in the way. I had to hold on to the world view that Jay was an asshole. I didn’t know what it meant if he wasn’t. Had he changed? Had I changed? Had I been wrong all along? The idea made my stomach turn, unless, of course, that was the overpowering smell in the bathroom. “You can do this, Cat. Stay strong.”

After spending far too long trying to pull myself together, I left the bathroom and let the crisp, fresh, pre-snow air fill my lungs. The scent of the bathroom dissipated. Jay leaned against the car, legs and arms crossed casually, as if he knew exactly how to stand to show off his muscular arms, tapered waist and chiseled jaw line. Holy crap, I had to pull my shit together. I had spent four years avoiding men, and now I couldn’t stop thinking about the one that I should be running far, far away from.

“You ready?” He asked.

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