Page 70 of If It Can't Be Us

I take a deep breath, savoring the smell of bacon, eggs, and waffles as I stand by the sink. My mom and I move in sync—she washes, I dry—our routine perfected over the years. Bing Crosby and Dean Martin play in the background, their Christmas classics filling me with nostalgia. A fire crackles in the family room, and the Christmas tree sparkles with lights and ornaments. The main floor feels cozy and festive, filled with the scent of breakfast and the warmth of holiday music. Dad is on the couch, scrolling through his X feed and managing the playlist. It’s Christmas morning; we’ve just finished opening gifts and eating breakfast, all in our matching Christmas pajamas. My family is small, just the three of us, but the love we share is big.

A wave of emotion fills me as I remember Ben and me doing the dishes just two years ago. I washed while he dried, and I couldn’t stop smiling that morning. He had surprised me with a planned trip to Paris for my 28th birthday in June, and I was over the moon. But Ben wasn’t there the following summer, and the thought of going without him felt unbearable at the time.

My mom interrupts my thoughts. “Have you spoken to Leo yet?” she asks, her voice full of motherly concern.

I sigh. “No, not yet.”

I tell my mom everything. I’ve been home, Utah home, for a little over a week now and leave in a few days. Despite the weight of sadness that plagues me between my memories of Ben and my confusion with Leo, I’ve had some great moments over the past week. I went skiing and snowshoeing with my mom and dad. Sarah and I went to the ChristkindlMarket in Salt Lake City and had breakfast at my favorite place in Park City, Five5eeds. I took my niece and nephew to the ice castles and Zoo Lights with Melissa. Last night, I spent the evening with the Walkers, where we went around the circle and shared our favorite memories of Ben. It was bittersweet but has become one of my favorite new traditions on Christmas Eve.

“Do you think today might be a good day to reach out?” She’s prodding, but in that sneaky mom way.

“I don’t know, Mom. I still don’t know what to do or say. I’ve never been so conflicted before.” I stare blankly at the snow falling through the large wall of glass in the family room.

“Well, maybe you just start with ‘Merry Christmas,’ just to let him know you’re thinking of him. The rest will fall into place, I’m sure of it.” I don’t know how my mom does it, but she’s one of the most positive people I know. She has this unwavering belief that what you put out comes back to you. I used to be that way too… until my life went to shit, and I lost everything in a matter of seconds.

“I can only imagine he’s going crazy not having heard from you for this long.”

Why?Why does she have to go there right now?

“You’re probably right, Mom. And I’d say that it serves him right… I’m going crazy too.”

“Vivian, honey, it’s not a game. Have some faith. I believe things will work out if you trust the process.” She stops washing and looks at me. “You should call him.”

“I’m not calling him. I’m not ready for that. I’ll send him a text today.”

She smiles. Sometimes you just have to give your mom a small win.

I laugh softly. “Geez, Mom, when are you going to mind your own business?” I sayjokingly.

She laughs. “Never. It’s my job not to.”

Grinning, I bump her with my shoulder, and she bumps me back.

* * * * ** * * * *

I sit on my bed, coffee in one hand and my phone in the other, staring at an open message to Leo. I’ve reread his last text to me, and mine to him, a dozen times, each time stirring a whirlwind of emotions inside me. My heart starts to pound.

Taking a deep breath, I start typing, my fingers shaky. I type, “Merry Christmas, I hope you have a great day.”

I erase it and try again, typing out “Merry Christmas” again and stare at it. I’m stuck. There’s almost too much to say, and I can’t find the right words. Finally, I leave it as it is, passing the ball to him.

Vivian:Merry Christmas.

I anxiously wait as ten minutes go by, and Leo responds.

Leo:Merry Christmas, Viv. I miss you. Can I see you when you get home?

Damn. I gave him the ball, and he just passed it back. I have no teammates to pass it to, and I’m unsure what to do with it. If I see him on Friday when I get home, I still have four full days to figure out what to say. I type out “sure” and then delete it. I need to sound confident.

Vivian:Yes.

Vivian:I land at 7:00 PM

Leo:Can I pick you up from the airport?

Vivian:No, I’ll take the train. I don’t love that setting for the talk we need to have.

LeoOkay. Can I come over at 8:30?

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