Page 58 of Not Quite Perfect

“Why would you assume that?” I asked, my blood pressure spiking.

For as long as I could remember, Thanksgiving had beenmyholiday. For ten years now—once our mom began spending the holiday on a cruise ship with whatever man she was married to at the time—I’d hosted Thanksgiving, inviting my brothers and whatever ragtag group of friends we could cobble together. Thanksgiving was quite possibly my favorite days of the year, and I would be damned if our mother was going to take that away from me too. All because she wanted to pretend like we were one big happy family.

Alex scratched his beard. “She kept going on and on about how great it was going to be to have everyone together for our first family Thanksgiving. She was so happy that I just assumed …”

“You assumed what?”

“You know I don’t know how these things work.” He backed up, holding his hands up in the universal sign of surrender.

“Bullshit. You knowexactlyhow this works. She runs off on one her cruises and I make sure everyone has a magical fucking Thanksgiving. It’s been that way for ten goddamned years!”

“I know!” he hollered back. “But she’s our mom, and she said she was hosting. Why would I question her?”

I tossed my hands in the air and let out a disgusted snort. Marching out of the kitchen and into my living room, I flopped down onto the couch. Seconds away from giving in to a crying jag to end all crying jags, I threw my arm over my eyes and counted to ten. It’s wasn’t Alex’s fault that our mother was trying to usurp my holiday.

The couch cushions dipped next to me, and Alex pulled my arm away from my face. “If it’ll make you feel better, I won’t go to their place. I’ll come over here instead, just like I’ve always done.”

I peered at my brother out of the corner of my eye. “You’d really do that?”

He nodded. “Sure. I’ll tell her I’m on call or something.”

I tugged my arm back and sat up straight.

“What?” he asked, his face a mask of confusion.

“I don’t want you to lie to her. I want you to tell her outright that you’re spending the holiday with me.Like you’ve always done.” I stared at Alex, daring him to disagree.

He blinked and looked away. “Goddamnit, Vicky. Fine. I’ll tell Mom I’m not going to Thanksgiving at her house because you’re my favorite sister and this is your holiday.”

I pushed to my feet and held out my hand. He took it, and I hefted him up. Or at least I pretended to. Honestly, he did most of the work. “Thank you big bro,” I said, wrapping my arms around him. “I appreciate your support.”

Hesitantly, he wrapped his tree trunk arms around me too, letting out a relieved sigh as he did. “I just hope this feud doesn’t extend into Christmas.”

I stepped back, lifting my chin. “It’ll last as long as it needs to. I’m with David, and she is going to have to accept it.”

He stared down at me and scratched his cheek. “And if she won’t?”

“Then enjoy Christmas without me.”

Twenty-Four

David

A couple of years before,Thackeray College had brought in a counselor to help train its administrators and educators on the most common signs of depression in students so that we could better identify anyone who might be struggling. But it didn’t that two-week course for me to know that something was seriously off with Victoria.

When she wasn’t up all night sitting at her computer or binge watching old episodes ofFriends, she was sleeping for long stretches at a time. She also wasn’t eating much. When shedidsit down to a meal, she just pushed her food around her plate. And sometimes when I’d walk in the door at night after a long day on campus, she would still be in the pajamas she’d had on when I’d left, her body rooted to the same spot on the sofa.

When pressed, she insisted everything was fine, but I knew better.

Currently, she was lying face down on the bed, her body akimbo and her hair matted to her head. By the looks of things, it’d been a couple of days since she’d last washed it.

I pushed off the door jamb and picked my way across our bedroom, avoiding the piles of clothes that’d somehow tripled in size over the last twenty-four hours.

Sitting down next to her, I pushed Victoria’s hair back from her face. “Come on sleepy head, time to get up.”

She groaned and tried to pull the covers up over her head.

“Nope,” I said, grabbing hold of them so she wouldn’t be able to. “You have guests coming over later tonight. It’s time to get up.”

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