Page 101 of Christmas Criminal

And then through the din of the chattering around us, someone starts crying.

My first thought is Christina, and my head whips toward the last place I saw her.

But I realize it's Harriet, my mom's arm around her shoulders as she sobs over one of the Christmas cookies I painted a dick onto.

I try not to think too hard about whatthatmeans.

Christina moves around the island as fast as she can with her cast weighing her down, and she and my mom flank Harriet, talking in soft voices as she wipes her tears.

I glance over at the couch, where Naomi and Cassidy watch with pained expressions on their faces.

I want to cry with Harriet. Cryforthese girls.

But instead I gently extricate myself from Nick's arms, grab the plate of cookies, and head to the couches. Harriet probably needs a good cry, and my mom and sister are more than qualified to help her through it. The girls, however, don't need to spend their Christmas watching it.

I sit in front of the tree and hold the plate of cookies out to them. They each grab one, cocking their heads at the designs.

"Are these supposed to be Christmas ornaments?"

No, it's a ball sack."Yeah, those little dots are the sparkles."

"Is this a rose?"

I clear my throat.Vagina. "Yeah, it's a rose."

"Hm. I'm surprised you didn't put a poinsettia on it."

"Maybe I'll try that next year."

I grab a handful of presents from my pile and distribute them at the girls' feet as another sob breaks from Harriet's throat. The girls whip toward her, concerned.

"Hey, who wants to open a present first?" I ask.

Naomi eyes me. "They all have your name on them."

I shrug. "I'm pretty sure they're fruit so I don't really care." You can always tell which ones are fruit because my mom always does them last, usually the night before Christmas, and they're haphazardly wrapped, with the occasional drop of wine staining the paper.

Cassidy shrugs, reaching forward and ripping one open to reveal an apple inside.

I gesture to it as if to prove my point. I vaguely register Nick ducking his head into the fridge for a drink behind them.

"Your turn," I say to Naomi, and she grabs one from the pile, ripping it open. An orange.

She cocks her head to the side. "Why do you give each other fruit?"

I shrug. "Because we pretty much buy ourselves everything we want through the year, and half the fun of Christmas is destroying the paper. My sister and I always had a ball ripping it up over Christmas, so I guess that's kind of my mom's present to us. Lots of wrapped things that we can tear into wildly."

Naomi nods. "I feel that."

I raise my eyebrows.Okay.

I hand them each two more presents, and they unwrap them to find a mini tube of toothpaste and another roll of toilet paper.

"Ah, we've entered into the toiletries section of today's festivities."

They giggle, resting their presents on the coffee table in front of them.

"Hope your Christmas isn't shitty," I say, parroting my mom, but the words feel much more relevant now. Naomi dissolvesinto laughter, leaning back into the couch and crashing into Cassidy, who laughs but not quite as exuberantly.

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