Page 9 of Christmas Sunrise
"Oh, I remember." Marty gives me a crooked smile in the rear-view mirror.
"And I have some recollections of it too." Jenna's voice is soft.
"But it doesn't compare to what you have now, does it?" I ask, feeling like I'm digging a very deep and dark grave for myself. I’ve never fully experienced what they have, and what I did a few years ago possibly killed my one and only chance, but I can imagine. In fact, Idoimagine annoyingly often what it would be like to have what they have.
I watch as Marty's hand comes over to rest on Jenna's thigh before he speaks. "Not in a million years," he says. I would have murderous thoughts about him if he weren't the man who makes my sister happier than she's ever been. It stings more than it should when she releases my hand to hold his.
"I'm sorry we're not responding in the way you'd like, Jakey," she says. "But we all agree you've certainly already had a memorable Christmas Eve. I'm not sure a night in our local is going to deliver the same excitement, but we will try."
I suck in a breath and, with it, a bit more strength to dislodge the uncomfortable feelings that are threatening to settle in my stomach. Yes, I'm jealous of my sister and Marty. Yes, I did like the way Investment Banker's grey-green eyes sparkled as we chatted just as much as I liked how he filled out his suit. Yes, I could have asked for his number, but I was honestly too scared to be rejected. And no, I'm not going to let yet another random hook-up drown me with shame, regret and other icky feelings. At least, I'm going to try and not let that happen.
This Christmas is already going to be challenging enough seeing as it's the first in six years we're not at our father's place in Edinburgh, a fact that only came about because neither Jenna nor myself has had any meaningful contact with him in over six months. It's not that I would rather be with Dad and his wife Carol than here with Jenna and Marty's family who I consider close to a second family, but rather it would have been nice to have been invited. When I have all but organised every previous Christmas we spent in Scotland, I had thought my father would make the effort for this year, but apparently not.
I should really give up on waiting for people to show me they want me in their lives.
At least my sister and Marty are different.
"Pah, local pubs are my speciality," I say, forcing a lightness into my voice. "They will be simply dazzled by my quick wit and sparkling city ways."
"We live in a suburb of Dublin, Jake, we're hardly culchies."
"You're using words I don't understand." I lean forward, feeling not for the first time like their naughty child stashed away on the backseat. "How much longer until we get home? I need a slash."
"Ten more minutes. Can you hold it for that long, Sweet Cheeks?"
"Ugh, Marty, stop saying things that confuse my already very confused sensibility."
"And I want to hear all about London and your not-so-new job," Jenna says referring to my newish role as Head of UK Properties for Status Hotels, a luxury hotel and events brand. It's the kind of role I never dreamed of having and yet here I am working it for the last two months, all settled and living in London in a flat by myself.
"We talk multiple times a week, Jenna," I point out. "You've heard it all before."
"It's different when I have you right in front of me." Jenna turns again to beam another wide grin my way. "I'm so glad you're here, Jakey."
And she is. I can see it in her eyes; the love she has for me. The love she always has for me. Goddammit. Why did she have to leave London for this smooth-talking piece of Irishman?
"I'm happy I'm here," I say, sliding my hand over her shoulder. "Even if you did cost me far too much money in checked-in luggage."
"You didn't do just carry on?"
"Do you know how many presents I have bought you all and your stupid drooling dogs?"
"Oh, yeah, those dogs you claim to hate and yet insisted on having sleep in your room when you last visited," Marty points out.
"They just ended up on my bed!" I protest. "And I have to say they snored less than most of my recent bedfellows."
"Oh, Jake." My sister sighs again and I hate the layer of pity I detect in it.
"Save it for when I'm drunk later and the shame from my mile-high toilet antics has really kicked in." I slap my hands on my knees, eager to change the subject. "Now, tell me what you're both wearing tonight. I simply cannot decide between a sheer Yves Saint Laurent shirt I splurged on for the festive season or if I should just play it safe and go for some sparkly red knitwear?"
Chapter Four
Maeve
Ishould do a Live. It’s been an age since I last did one and I’ve had more than a few comments requesting one, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I tell myself it’s because I don’t want to be on my phone as much during Christmas. I have nearly a whole week off, time that my body and brain really need to genuinely be away from my phone. But in reality, I’m too preoccupied with my many busy and confusing thoughts to have the energy and smiles for a Live right now.
It's also a bullshit excuse because at this very moment in time, I’m very much still on my phone.
In my defence, I'm not on social media. Instead, I'm looking through old photos, namely photographs of when I last saw Arabella. It was at the end of summer, just before I left for various fashion week gigs in New York, London, and Paris. We spent the day together shopping and it was everything I love about spending time with Bella. It was easy. It was fun. It was as full of silliness and laughter as it was deeper conversations about life, and love, specifically the lack of the latter.
