Page 33 of UnLucky Christmas
I’m in my room, and it’s still dark outside. I inhale sharply as I put my hands over my mouth. Holy crap. I just had a dream about Grant, and I liked him—at least it felt like I did.
I’m one of those people who rarely dreams, and if I do, I don’t remember them. This one was so vivid and real. I lay back down and pull the blanket up to my chin.
Honestly, I don’t know what to think. Grant is so full of himself, and usually I’m not attracted to his type at all. Don’t get me wrong, he’s easy on the eyes, and kissing him wouldn’t exactly be torture. Crap, what am I thinking?
I throw off the covers and get out of bed. It’s not even six o’clock, but I have a feeling I won’t be falling back to sleep this morning, and I don’t know if I want to. That wasn’t just a dream, it was a nightmare.
I make a cup of coffee and open my laptop. Janelle and I still haven’t found a place to have our Christmas party, and I’m losing faith. It might be time to admit we’ll have to forgo it this year and move on.
The thought makes me so sad.
Our first party was small. We had food and music, and it gave us a chance to catch up with friends we don’t see as often as we’d like. Over the years it grew—we added gingerbread house decorating and karaoke. It became one of my favorite events of the year. Naturally, I expected this year’s party to be extra special, but what I had envisioned has changed given I no longer have a boyfriend.
Although there is Chad. He hasn’t exactly kept his interest in me secret. He’s a lot of fun to be around and down to earth, which is more than I can say about some people.
Chad is good-looking too. He has a warm smile and the cutest dimple in his cheek. I’m looking forward to going ice-skating with him. We’re still getting to know each other, but you never know what the future might hold. We may end up being friends, but for now I’m going to have fun. I’ve earned it.
* * *
“Mom,I don’t need any of this stuff,” I say, pushing the box away from me. I’ve already looked through two boxes and a large shopping bag. I’ve only put aside a few items I want to keep.
A look of horror flashes across her face. “That’s all that you want. You need to keep more than those few things. What about your kids? Don’t you want to pass things down to them.”
I roll my eyes. “Mom, my hypothetical children will probably want new stuff. I saved the things that are the most important to me.”
My mother has a lot of stuff. I’m not sure how this house sale is going to go, but she will need to part with a lot of things for it to happen.
I look over at her Christmas tree sitting in front of the large bay window in our living room. The room is filled with the fresh balsam scent—which is the one benefit you don’t get from an artificial tree.
For as long as I can remember our tree has always been set up in front of this window. I have so many memories in this very spot—in fact, I think this is where my love of the holidays began. It makes me want to cry when I think this will be the last year we celebrate here in this room. It already feels different than years past, which is to be expected since my dad won’t even be here for Christmas.
“The tree looks pretty,” I say as she’s digs through the boxes I already looked through.
“Thank you. I think it’s one of our better ones. It’s full and green, and the branches all hang perfectly for the décor.”
“Where’s Dad?” I ask for the first time since arriving. I peeked into his office when I first got here and almost burst into tears. The walls were bare and there was a stack of boxes near the door.
“I’m not sure,” she says. “I think he had a meeting.”
I chew on my bottom lip. “It must be strange around here since you decided to get divorced.”
She gives a shrug, “It’s not as different as you’d think. We got to the point where we were living like roommates, and it’s been this way for a while.”
Hearing this makes me sad.
“I guess I never realized it was like that for you two,” I tell her. “You made it seem like you were solid and happy. I must’ve been naïve because I assumed you’d be together forever.”
She sighs. “I’m glad. That means you didn’t have to be concerned about us, and you could just be a kid. Our marriage wasn’t supposed to be your concern or your brother’s.”
I walk to the tree and touch one of the ornaments. I wish my parents could figure this out and keep our family intact. I know that’s a selfish thought, and I certainly don’t want them to be unhappy.
“You should keep this,” my mom says, holding up a Ziploc bag of yarn and a plastic loom.
I frown. “I don’t even know what that’s from.”
She stares at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“Whitney, I got this from our old neighbor Mrs. Pruitt,” she says. “She crocheted those cute hats and bags. You loved them and wanted to learn how to do it. She gave you this stuff.”
