Page 32 of Scrooged for the Holidays
“What was the point of that?”
“Do you not know?” I ask.
She bites the inside of her cheek before she answers. “Are you trying to prove my mom has always been a jerk? Like mother, like daughter or some crap?”
I squeeze her arm gently. “Don’t you see, Greer? You didn’t care about the cost of things or impressing people with money once. You used to love Christmas, to understand its meaning of love and giving.”
She pulls her arm away as if my touch suddenly burns her. “I’ve always hated Christmas.”
“You know that’s not true. Did that little girl singing “Jingle Bells” look like she hated it?”
Greer’s eyes burn into mine, and it doesn’t take a genius to see she’s attempting to shut down any emotions she was feeling a moment ago.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I do, Greer. I know the past well. This isn’t the only time you showed that you loved Christmas.”
“You’re only saying that to prove a point, but I’m not buying it.”
“You can deny it all you want, but think about what you just saw. That little girl was excited.”
“All I saw was a past version of me who learned she wasn’t good enough.”
“Is that really what you think even now?”
“How can I not think that? You saw my mom’s reaction to the ornaments, to the garland.”
“Was it you who wasn’t good enough, Greer, or was it your mom’s insecurities over money and material things influencing her reaction that made you believe that? Did you see she took the ornament?”
Her anger winks out before it returns. “It doesn’t matter. I never saw it again, so I’m sure she threw it out.”
“Greer—”
“I get what you were trying to show me, okay? I turned into someone worse than my mother. Can we go back now?”
I shake my head. “No, we can’t. There are still two things I want you to see.”
“If you’re going to show me another time that I wasn’t good enough for my parents, I’ll pass.”
I take a calming breath so I don’t get agitated. It’s not uncommon for people to push back when they see things from their past that are painful. But for some reason, Greer’s pushback is affecting me more than I would like. Maybe it’s because she’s already made me feel different than any other human ever has or because she kissed me, but I’m doubly invested in showing her that while she made choices in the past that led her to become who she is now, she can make different ones in the future.
“I can’t promise what I’ll show you next will be easier,” I say with honesty.
Greer tucks her hair behind her ear and glares at me. “I really need to have a talk with my subconscious when I wake up from this nightmare.”
My cheek twitches, and I hold out my hand. Her blazing eyes fall to it, but to my happiness, she takes it. I squeeze it, waiting until her eyes meet mine, then I allow my energy to grow around me until it touches Greer’s. Her gray aura pushes back against the caring and kind nature of mine. Hers is cold, a sensation I’m not used to, but after a moment, her shoulders soften, and she accepts the bit of comfort that I offer.
“What you’ve seen and have yet to see is for a reason. Try not to judge it but observe it. Everything will make more sense in time if you let it.”
She doesn’t speak or outwardly react, but her throat works as she swallows down the emotions she’s fighting. Eventually, that wall will break—it’s a question of when not if.
I’ve already started to see the cracks. The little Greer we just saw is still inside her, begging to be loved, as I believe the Greer in front of me is begging for the same. She just doesn’t think she wants or needs to be. It’s how she got to where she is now.
I relish the presence of her hand in mine and speak again. “Hold on.”
I snap the fingers of my free hand, and the scenery morphs. To my surprise, Greer doesn’t pull her hand away. She simply grips it tighter as she gets her bearings.
“Do you recognize this?” I ask.
