Page 5 of Accidentally Under Your Tree

"Is it intimidating that she's bringing her new boyfriend? It's been years since you've celebrated Christmas without Brian."

"Mom, I'm fine being single. I'm more embarrassed I had to move back home."

"Oh, that's nothing to be embarrassed of."

"You're right…why on earth would I feel like a loser for that?"

"You're not a loser. You're getting back on your feet." With each word, she sounded more patient, meaning she was getting more irritated.

"Thanks, Mom. It's all better now." It was one snark too far.

"Young lady." Mom put a hand on her narrow hip. Speaking with the exact tone she used to scold me when I was nine, she said, "I will not have you talking badly about yourself. You are wonderful, and talented, and we don't mope around."

Back to feeling like a child.

"The way I feel is valid." I'd made this point before—it was not well received then either.

"It's nonsense. Lots of people move back in with their parents."

"And they feel like shit about it."

"What's there to feel like shit about? So, what if people judge you? Who cares?"

I sighed. As if she wasn't just as concerned with what people thought of her. I'd seen the way she changed the subject when anyone mentioned that I was living with them now, she’d redirect the conversation to my business.

"Okay, Mom." Taking a step backward, I moved toward the hallway. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up."

"I'll let you know when your sister's here."

"You don't have to. We'll see each other when we see each other."

Disappointment ebbed off my mom like radiation—I couldn't physically feel it, but I knew it was there. She shook her head. Her lips pinched, as if holding back her thoughts.

I closed my bedroom door behind me. The room was painted the same color as when I was a kid. Mom had been talking about redecorating it about a month before I moved back. Maybe it wouldn't feel so much like regression if she had, but I couldn't justify the cost and energy of painting when my stay here was temporary.

At least my desk looked like a well-organized adult used it. My color-coded stationary, pens, and post-it notes in their place. If there was anything I liked spending my money on the most, it was office supplies.

I was unsure about how long it would take me to get out of here. My business was doing fairly well for its first year. By this time next year,maybeI could have my own place.

I shot a text to Shay asking about her day, then threw my phone on my vanilla-colored knitted blanket. Almost instantly, a return message arrived. I finished deciding on a cozy sweater and joggers from my dresser before reading what she'd said.

Shay: Fine. Work was slow today. I don't know whether to curse your parents for making me work this week or thank them. I've gotten so much reading done.

Me: I wish I could get paid to read.

Shay: It's pretty good. The phone has rung like three times since Monday. Anyway, it's not like my house is peaceful right now, with Lawrence working on my fireplace.

She sent a photo of the progress, including her brother, Lawrence, glaring at the camera. He wasn’t offended by his picture being taken, that was just his face.

The phone buzzed again as I changed from one leisure outfit to a slightly more presentable, possibly even stylish, leisure outfit. Looking casual and unaffected at being face-to-face with my sister while meeting her new boyfriend and looking like I cared too much, was a fine line to walk.

The boyfriend that was, apparently, well loved by her fans. His fans too.

I didn't watch their little YouTube show, so I wouldn't know. Everyone in town watched it, though. And they all liked to talk. I just nodded my head and agreed. Let them assume I knew what they were talking about. The boundaries I drew to avoid the pain of watching my sister's life and not being a part of it were my concern, not theirs.

While pulling the scrunchy out of my hair, I unlocked my phone to read Shay's text.

Shay: Are they there yet?

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