Page 4 of A Grinchmas Delight

“Missed you too, Ma.” He hugs her back and quickly removes himself to scoop me up in a hug.

“Hey, sis!” He greets, spinning me around. I laugh uncontrollably as he twirls me around then places me back on the ground.

“Hey, Dally.”

He shoots me a glare for a moment at the use of my childhood nickname for him before his girlfriend walks over.

“Dayra, this is Shelly. Shelly, this is my big sister Dayra.”

“So nice to meet you,” I say, pulling her into an awkward hug.

“You too.”

She’s my height, with short brown hair and beautiful pale white skin. Her eyes are a beautiful honey brown and she’s wearing the most adorable light brown dress.

My mom and dad steal the show, talking to both Dallas and Shelly. I quietly ease into the kitchen and fiddle with random things around the counter to occupy myself. Once I’ve rearranged a few things, I take a seat at the dining room table, wincing as I open my phone. I have two text messages.

Maia: Happy Thanksgiving, bestie!

Zane: I’m sorry for showing up at your house last night. That was highly unprofessional and it won’t happen again.

I type out a response to Maia and I stare at Zane’s text for a minute before I come up with what to say to him.

Dayra: It’s no big deal. Thanks for checking on me.

I press send with my stomach in my throat. We don’t interact like this, so this feeling is odd and unwelcome. Within seconds, he reads it. I hold my breath, waiting for his response. But, nothing pops up.

That’s more like it. Now he’s being his usual asshole self. I lock my phone and set it down on the table. I look around and see that my cousin Ashley has arrived with her little boy who’s running around the house like Donnie Thornberry.

I sigh, feeling like an outcast in the presence of my own family. I don’t know why I continue to do these things to myself when I’d rather be anywhere but here. One day, I won’t have to feel unwelcome at the holidays. One day.

CHAPTER TWO

ZANE

“Where’syour head at today, brother?” Johnny asks, elbowing me at the long dinner table where our family is sitting down to eat together for Thanksgiving lunch.

“Just work, sorry.” I stare at the text from Dayra and click my phone shut, shoving it into the pocket of my suit.

“It’s Thanksgiving. Work will still be there when lunch is over,” my mom chastises from two seats down.

“Yes ma’am,” I concede, putting my hands in the air.

“I’m all done. No more phone for the rest of the day.”

My mom’s eyes widen in shock but then she gives me her thousand-watt smile of approval and shovels a bite of green bean casserole into her mouth.

“The game’s on in twenty minutes! You better eat quick!” Jane, my sister, yells from the doorway.

“Get in here and eat with your family!” my mom demands, giving her a death stare. Jane runs back to her chair and sits down. One thing about Mom, you eat as a family and everyone is welcome.

This is the first Thanksgiving that there isn’t a stranger present. She’s forever finding someone who is in need for the holidays and inviting them to our home. We’ve met so manyamazing people who have fallen on hard times, and Mom keeps in touch with almost every single one of them to this day.

As a single mom of three, I don’t know how she did it. But she did. She has always been the best mom and the best woman with a big heart, but a stern voice. She doesn’t take any shit from anyone and she’s wicked fast with a flip-flop.

Dad passed away when Jane was only a few months old and I was only a little over a year. Johnny was three and he only has one memory of our dad. Jane and I are Irish twins, with me being born in June and her the following May. That’s why Mom and Dad thought it suitable for rhyming names. Zane and Jane. They thought it was adorable. Jane and I? Not so much.We suffered so much torment in grade school over having matching names. Christmas has never been my favorite.

Growing up without Dad had an impact on me, but every Christmas something bad happened. Whether it was my favorite dog dying or finding out that Mom had cancer, Christmas time has brought more bad than good. If that makes me a Grinch, then so be it. I get in the spirit for Mom’s sake and for the family, especially the little ones, but I’d almost rather take a beating than participate in the Christmas cheer.

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