Page 4 of Merrily You

In between the movies, we each fielded messages from our family group chats asking us when we were leaving (early in the morning), reminding us what to bring (Holiday had made enough peppermint double chocolate chip cookies for both of us, and the wine my mom liked was already packed), and having the same arguments we had every year.

“We should just put them on silent,” Holiday said.

“Then they’ll call.” We’d tried that before. One thing we’d always had in common was relentless families who were not content unless they knew every single ounce of our business. In addition to wanting to know everything, they also were constantly begging us to move closer. Because forty-five minutes was “too far away.”

My mom had gone so far as to start sending me crime statistics in cities. I had stopped trying to remind her that I didn’t live in any of those cities. It didn’t matter. She was almost as bad as Holiday’s mom that way. At least she didn’t demand that I listen to gruesome episodes of true crime podcasts like Holiday’s mom did. I’d have to do an intervention if that ever happened.

The two of us fell asleep on the couch together, which was another tradition. I woke to the alarm on my phone blaring as a familiar voice cursed in my ear.

“It’s too fucking early.”

I blinked my eyes open and looked down to find Holiday with her head on my chest, her hair absolutely everywhere. Part of her bangs stuck straight up in the air, making her look like she’d been electrocuted.

She looked cute and grumpy as hell.

“You say that every year,” I rasped, my voice rough and scratchy.

“It’s true every year,” she said, sitting up and yawning, her jaw cracking.

“Come on. Let’s get going.”

“Coffee,” Holiday said, trying to run her hand through her hair and just tangling it further.

“Yes, yes. I know you need caffeine.” So did I, but one of us had to take charge and it was usually me. I wiggled out from under her and stood up, stretching my back and hearing it pop far too many times. We really needed to get a better couch.Maybe one with a bed inside so neither of us ended up needing back surgery before we were thirty.

“Coffee,” Holiday moaned, tilting over and crashing back onto the blankets.

“It’s coming,” I said, making my way to the kitchen and getting things started for her. I’d set my alarm so we had plenty of time for Holiday to wake up, for us to pack everything else we needed into our cars, and for us to have enough time to stop and get our favorite breakfast.

After so many years, I had this part down to a science and we were right on schedule.

Holiday had passed out again but woke up when I waved a cup of coffee under her nose. I’d added just enough peppermint creamer the way she liked.

“Coffee,” she said, which was one of the only words she could say upon waking.

“Finish your coffee. I’m going to get dressed.” I’d already set out her outfit last night on her dresser, so I grabbed it for her and set it next to her on the couch before going to my room and changing for the day.

When I arrived back in the living room after putting my hair up and brushing my teeth, Holiday had finished her coffee, but she was staring out the window with a glazed look on her face. Caffeine hadn’t kicked in yet.

“Come on, let’s go,” I said, heaving her to her feet as she whined. I set the clothes in her arms and shoved her toward the bathroom.

“Go get ready. I’ll take the rest of our stuff to the cars.”

In spite of needing my own caffeine fix, I had work to do to make sure this journey went smoothly.

One good thing about combining Holiday and caffeine was that once it hit, she was unstoppable.

I came back upstairs to find her bustling around, throwing things from the pantry into a bag.

“What are you doing?” I asked slowly. She spun around, her blue eyes a little wide.

“Just packing snacks. I hate it when I don’t have snacks when I’m driving.”

“H. The trip is less than an hour. And we’re stopping at the diner. We don’t need snacks.” She turned around and ignored me.

“Why don’t you come and help me get the rest of our stuff to the car? Don’t forget the cookies and the wine.” I’d put notes on both of them last night so we didn’t forget.

A few minutes later we had everything in the car and were ready to go. I’d badgered Holiday into having a full tank of gas and made sure her car started and there were no dangerous lights coming on before I told her she was okay to go.

---