Page 12 of The Christmas Letters
After an early dinner alone, I dive right into the box of Santa letters with a Hallmark movie playing in the background and a mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table beside me.
I wiggle my toes inside my fuzzy slippers as I nestle a little deeper under my lap blanket.
Yes,it is still sixty degrees outside. And yes, my year of self-reflection really did turn me into a ninety-year-old woman.
The letters are adorable—in a sweet way. For the first few, I follow the template to the letter, copying the words Mrs. Greenly gave me. The reply feels a little impersonal, but maybe the kids will be excited enough to hear back that they won’t notice it sounds like their letter was written by an advertising executive at a bank.
Thanks so much for writing! Mrs. Claus and I were so excited to get your letter. We hope you’ve been good this year, and we’re looking forward to bringing you…
I drop my pen. It feels wrong to send a form letter to Sophie, the little girl who wrote and asked Santa to bring her a puppy. Why not write a letter about puppies? Give the girl a few tips, suggest she check out one of the shelters in town? Besides, what if I write and tell Sophie Santa is excited to bring her a puppy, but in reality, Sophie’s brother is allergic to dogs and she’s actually getting a goldfish? How do parents resolve this Santa dilemma every single year?
When my phone lights up with an incoming call, I jump at the chance for a new activity. I’m maybe beginning to understand Mrs. Greenly’s glee when I agreed to take on the Christmas letters.
I groan when I see my mother’s face fill my screen, but I have to answer. She won’t stop calling until I do.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Tess, I’m so glad I caught you. What are you doing tonight? Are you busy?”
Oh no. I know that tone of voice.“So busy, Mom. I was just about to walk out the door.”
“Doing what?”
Crap.“Um, a volunteering thing?”
“At this hour? Surely it can wait. I want you to come down to the club. Your father and I are having dinner with the Stagers. Johnny’s back in town.”
“So I heard.”
“So you’ll come?” she asks, hope filling her voice.
“Mom. I’m not going to date Johnny Stager.”
She huffs. “Now don’t sound so judgy. He’s grown up a lot since you were children. Sure, he’s no Preston Vanderhorst, but you could do worse. And listen. Your father had a conversation with Thomlinson, over at his investment firm? They didn’t talk numbers, but he says that Stager boy has averyimpressive portfolio.”
I close my eyes, one hand pressed to my forehead. “I don’t care about his portfolio, Mom.”
She scoffs. “You keep saying that, but I don’t think you mean it.Of courseyou care. Iknow you,Tess.”
The way Mom says she knows me feels like an insult. But I don’t have to play this game. I don’t have to let her get to me.
“I appreciate the invitation, Mom, but I’m not interested. Please tell the Stagers I said hi, okay?”
“Tess, you aren’t getting any younger.” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Men in our circle are getting married to debutantes five years younger than you. If you aren’t careful, you’re going to age out—”
“Oh my gosh, Mom, this is not the eighteenth century. I’m not aging out of anything.” We’ve had this argument at least ten times since I came back to Charleston. It never ends well. But maybe if Mom has an actual reason to ease off a little …
“Besides, I’ve met someone,” I say in a way I hope feels casual.
Mom’s voice immediately changes. “What? Where? Who?”
I don’t know why I do it. Possibly to spite her, which doesn’t exactly make me proud. But no matter how many times I’ve tried to make Mom understand that I’ve changed, that I don’t want what she wants, she refuses to see it.
I launch into the story of meeting Drew with enough enthusiasm that hopefully, Mom won’t try to interrupt. And she doesn’t. I spare her no details. The magic of our connection. The intense blue of his eyes. The dimple that popped whenever he smiled.
The only adjustment I make for Mom is the timeline. In the version I tell her, our rescue was a few weeks ago, and we’ve been dating ever since.
Hopefully, hewillreach out, and wewillgo out this weekend.
