Page 8 of Merrily You

“Hello?” I called as I opened the front door. “I’m here!” I heard shrieking coming from the kitchen and before I knew it, I was engulfed in my mother’s floury arms. She was already baking and the house was filled with the warm smells of cinnamon and spices and other delicious things.

“There’s my girl!” Mom said, hugging me so tight it was like she’d never hugged me before. She pulled back and there were tears in her eyes. As if I hadn’t seen her approximately two weeks ago.

“Mom, stop,” I said. She sniffed and clutched me again.

“I’m just so glad to have everyone here. How was the drive? Did you hit any traffic?” She put her arm around me and led me to the kitchen which was already dominated by cooling pans of cookies. Every year, Mom agreed to make cookies and every year she made an increasing number. By this point she was making enough to feed a small country, and it took her nearly two days to accomplish. It stressed her out, but she wouldn’t hear of taking a break.

“No, it was good.” Mom shoved me into a chair and pressed a cup of coffee into my hand, getting the creamer from the fridge.

“Where’s Dad?” The house was unusually quiet.

“He had to run out to get a few things for me and then he was stopping at Raquel’s to take a look at her garbage disposal. I guess it’s acting up.” Was my father a licensed plumber? No. Would he act like he was and refuse to call in a professional because he was convinced he could do a better job for free? Yes.

“Of course he is,” I said, sipping my coffee.

“How’s our Holiday?” Mom asked with a fond smile. “We’re seeing her tonight, right?” Since it was the day before Christmas Eve, Holiday would be coming over tonight before we spenttomorrow night with her family. Alternating had always worked out so neatly for us.

“She’s good,” I said. Holiday and I had agreed to make our little announcement later tonight when everyone was here so we didn’t have to share the same story to twenty different people. For right now, I wasn’t saying anything.

“I can’t figure out why that girl is single. Well. I don’t know why you’re single either. Sometimes I think you do it on purpose.” Wow. Not even ten minutes before the criticism started. That had to be a record. I just sipped my coffee and pretended her words didn’t bother me.

It wasn’t easy.

Mom went back to mixing her gingerbread dough as she prattled on about town gossip and what was new with my siblings.

“I’m telling you, Nicholas is a genius. He’s already reading.” Seeing as how Nicholas wasn’t even two years old, I found this highly improbable, but he was Mom’s first grandchild, so I wasn’t going to argue with her.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.

“No, no. I’d just have to correct you and that would make more work for me,” she said, waving me off. Of course. No one was allowed to help because we’d do it wrong. Not that she’d even let someone try.

“You could run to the basement and get the second set of baking pans. They’re in one of the Christmas bins.” God help me. The Christmas bins. They took up nearly one entire corner of the basement and they seemed to multiply every year.

It was safe to say that my family loved Christmas more than any other holiday. It was the big one.

“Sure,” I said, standing up and abandoning my coffee.

How’s it going over there? Mom is currently telling me how much she doesn’t like my bangs. Again.

The message from Holiday made me smile as I walked down into the basement. Sounded like everything was right on schedule.

Chapter Five

Holiday

“I’m not going to grow them out,” I said when my mom wouldn’t stop pestering me about my bangs. I’d cut them a few years ago after a bad date and she’d disliked them ever since.

“But they cover up your gorgeous eyes,” Mom said. I rolled said eyes. My bangs did not do that, and I had no idea when Mom had joined an anti-bang society, but enough was enough.

“Leave my hair alone! Jesus,” I said.

Mom huffed but dropped the subject.

“I think your hair is gorgeous,” Aunt Cindy said as she came into the living room with a tray of hot chocolate for us. Uncle Gary and my dad were salting the driveway outside. It was supposed to snow tonight, so we might actually have a white Christmas. I’d be thrilled if we did. There was nothing more festive than the yard blanketed in white as we celebrated inside by the fireplace.

“Thank you, Aunt Cindy,” I said, chucking a bunch of marshmallows on top of my hot chocolate.

Soft piano music filtered through the house from several speakers and Mom had outdone herself with the decorations thisyear. They weren’t as fun or silly as what I’d find at Danny’s house, but my mom’s decorations were always spectacular. She’d done red and gold for the theme this year and there wasn’t a pine needle out of place. Nearly every room had a tree in it, all with matching ornaments and lights. My mom decorated as if she was competing, and every year she outdid herself. I always took a ton of pictures and had them printed out so she could save them in an album. It was the least I could do to record all her efforts.

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