Page 60 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
“Your sister is getting married.”
That’s the announcement? I mean, good for her. But she’s dated the same guy since freshman year of college. If they broke up, that would be bigger news.
“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll call her and congratulate her.”
“But that’s not the exciting news. Her fiancé is leaving his firm in Boston. The two are going to be taking over Ross and Family next year when I retire.”
Of course my father would prioritize the law firm over an engagement.
“Good for them.”
“That’s it?”
Really? He’s surprised by my reaction? “What do you want me to say, Dad?”
“I want to hear some enthusiasm in your voice. You should be proud of your sister and how hard she’s worked.”
“Just like she’s proud of me?” I ask.
“You know it’s not the same.”
“That’s the one thing in this life I do know.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he says. And here it comes: the yearly guilt treatment of me not being a part of the firm. It’s like getting socks in my stocking, you can count on it every Christmas. “How does it feel knowing that you’re the only family member that's not carrying on the tradition?”
“Actually, it feels pretty good,” I say. “I’m happy. I have a job I’m good at. I like the city I live in. And I just started seeing someone. Everything’s coming up Grayson.”
As if on cue, Kat opens the bathroom door. I bite my bottom lip as I stare at her wearing my button-down from last night.
“You’re seeing someone? So you’re actually going to, what, stay in Nashville?” He says it like I’ve decided to live in a third-world country with no indoor plumbing.
“Yeah, Dad. For the foreseeable future, I am,” I say, signaling for Kat to come sit on my lap. “Her name is Kat. Short for Katherine. Not like a cat. That was my first mistake too.”
She smiles as she loops her hands around my neck. “Dad, I don’t want to be a lawyer. I don’t want to move back to Connecticut so you and the uncles can live out this weird fantasy of everyone in the bloodline working at the law firm. I’m happy with my life. My career. My choices. I am successful by anyone’s definition. And if you’re not okay with all that, then maybe I won’t see you for Christmas next year either.”
“You wouldn’t. What would I tell your mother?”
“Easy. Tell her that her son is going to spend time with people who make him happy and accept his choices. If she, or you, don’t understand that, then we have nothing more to talk about.”
This makes him go silent. And you know what, this conversation is over.
“Dad, I'm sorry that I'm missing the big announcement, and you know, the actual holiday. We’ll talk soon.”
He clears his throat before speaking. “Yes, son. Merry Christmas.”
We both hang up, and I let out the biggest, and most relieved, breath I’ve had in a long time.
“Everything okay? It didn't sound like a pleasant conversation.”
“It wasn’t,” I say. “But at the same time, I feel better than I have in ages.”
"Wanna talk about it?" she asks.
“Not in the least,” I say, pulling her in tighter.
“Well, what do you want to do? Reclaim our table from yesterday and open the laptops? Sit here all day and find twenty-four hours of Christmas movies?”
I shake my head. “No work. Starting right now, we’re both on vacation.”
