Page 85 of His Sound
21Calling to Say || Serena Ryder
MOLLY
I’mat least seventy percent sure I passed all my exams. I can’t say I expect my grades to be stellar, but after deciding this term at McGill will be my last, I hauled ass to end on a high note.
Stephen picks me up at the Ottawa bus station as usual. He’s joining us for dinner at Mom’s place tonight, where I’ll be spending the first week of my Christmas vacation. The second week will be spent at Dad’s—that is, if Mom doesn’t put me out on the sidewalk after I’ve gotten her up to speed on my life choices.
“Hey, sis,” Stephen greets me, hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans.
I swear the guy dresses like Hollywood’s idea of a drug dealer. Sometimes I wonder if he actuallyisa drug dealer.
“Hey, bro.”
“How’s Montreal?”
I smile at the familiarity of the conversation. “It’s good. Still much cooler than Ottawa.”
I’m a little hung over from the Metro Records Christmas party last night. We decided to go see a show at a bar in the Old Port. I had a few beers, but I was more drunk on the music than I was on the alcohol, swept up in the rush of sweat and swaying bodies all moving to the same sound. I felt so right, so sure of myself, surrounded by coworkers who have become a kind of family. We’re always ready to sing each other’s praises and catch each other when we fall. Together, we’re building something I know is going to take us farther than we can even imagine right now, and there’s no one else I’d rather be on that ride with.
Well, almost no one else.
JP didn’t show up to the party.
“He’s not avoiding you, you know,” Matt had said, clapping me on the shoulder just before he left. “Well, not really. He’s back in Trois-Rivières already.”
I shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.
“He was different when he was with you, you know that?” Matt scanned my face like there was something he hoped to find there. “Different in a good way. Whatever happens, I just want you to know that as his friend, I thank you for that.”
He left before I had a chance to think of a reply.
Stephen pulls into Mom’s driveway, and we climb out of his rusty old Subaru.
“My babies!” Mom calls, flinging the door open before we’re even on the front step. “Merry Christmas!”
“It’s December twentieth,” Stephen grumbles, but he submits to a hug before Mom slips her arms around me.
“I love having you guys home,” she gushes, patting me on the back.
For now at least, I can’t help thinking.
I’ve decided to tell her tonight. There’s no use putting it off; if I’m going to ruin Christmas, I might as well give it a few days of advance notice.
Sometimes I think my mom uses Christmas as a way to expel all the pent-up homemaker urges she squashes down in her life as a stone-cold real estate shark. The house is decorated to the nines, and she’s got freshly baked cookies on novelty Santa plates ready for us when we walk into the living room. Kenzie gives us a bored wave from where she’s texting on the couch. Serena Ryder’s voice is drifting out of the stereo, crooning about calling her ex-boyfriend to wish him a merry Christmas.
We have dinner in front of the television, like we used to do as a special treat when we were kids. Then Stephen takes off to hopefully not deal drugs, and Kenzie heads out to a ‘sleepover’ that I know is probably a Jell-O shot-fuelled house party. I sit on the couch with Mom, wondering how to tell her I’m dropping out of university. Clearly, my siblings and I have all grown into very well-adjusted young adults.
“So, Mom...” I begin, when the credits ofChristmas with the Kranksstart rolling and she switches the TV to the fireplace channel.
“Yes, Molly?”
“I have some news.”
“Good news?” she asks, stretching out on the couch a little.
I stare down at where I’m shuffling my hands in my lap, my voice rising several octaves when I answer her. “...Yes?”
She laughs, not seeming to be on the alert yet. “You don’t sound so sure about that.”
