Page 54 of Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty

“I want to live a life I enjoy, not one that’s been bookmarked until the day I die. I want to take hold of everything that makes me happy and embrace it because life is short, and I don’t want to die unhappy on a train toward a meeting that was planned out years in advance.”

“James!” Mom raises her voice, finally silencing my tirade. “Will you listen to yourself? You are spewing nonsense! Are you drunk?”

I glance down at my glass. “Not drunk, but yeah, I needed a little courage to confront you. What does that say about our relationship, huh?”

“I knew it. You’re drunk, and you don’t know what you're saying. I should have known.”

“No! Don’t discredit my feelings just because I’ve had a drink. You always do this! You always find a way to twist things and disregard what I’m saying like it’s not important. And that hurts. I want you to hear me, Mom.”

“I hear you,” she snaps. “I hear that grief has led you down a ridiculous path and you have no idea what you are doing or whatyou are saying. I hear that your life is in shambles chasing some fairytale that doesn’t exist, and if you have any love for me, any at all, then you will stop this foolishness right now and come home.”

“See?” I laugh softly. “It’s not about whether I love you or not. Because I do. You’re my mom. I just don’tlikeyou. This ismylife, Mom.Mychoice. And if you want to be in it, you need to respect my choice.”

I end the call just as she yells my name, and when she calls back, I quickly block her number.

Silence falls.

My racing heart suddenly pounds against my ribcage, and I sink down onto my bed. My hands tremble, my legs shake, and my gut twists.

I finally said it.

All the things I wanted to say.

I finally did it.

I expect I’ll be written out of the will within a week, but I don’t care.

It’s worth it.

Emotion stings warm behind my eyes as I stare down at my silent phone, listening to the painful thump of my own heart. I don’t expect Mom to take all of this without some kind of repercussion, but whether it’s the adrenaline from the argument or the alcohol—I’m not sure—I feel great.

Free.

Confident.

My next call is Lily. She answers on the sixth ring.

“Yes, yes, you can do my hair after, but I’m not sure a hair salon should be usingspaghettihopesas coloring, y’know?” Lily says distantly, then she’s loud in my ear. “Hello?”

“Lily?”

“James! Is everything alright? You sound breathless.”

“Everything is great, I think. I want to ask you something, Lily.”

“Shoot.”

“Come out with me on a date.”

“Is Margret giving you hassle again?”

“No, Lily, come out on a real date with me, one that isn’t fake and pretend because honestly? I’m falling for you—or maybe I never stopped falling for you—and I’m having an absolute blast. I want to spend time treating you on a real date so please, say yes. Come out with me.”

There’s a moment of silence broken by the distant clatter of toys.

Then Lily speaks and I can hear the smile in her voice.

“Alright. Yes. Let’s do it.”

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