Page 87 of The Holiday Ex-Files

I looked in the mirror one last time. I looked ridiculous in my bright turkey-feather tutu and my Run Now and Gobble Later shirt. I even had the matching gloves and hat. While I looked like a nutjob, and probably was, I felt more like me. It was why I was still going to run, despite Noah canceling on me. I wanted to face my demons, even if it was alone. The last time I’d run the Turkey Trot was with Ben. He’d asked me not to dress “weirdly” that year. He was already sleeping with Claudia, Miss Perfection. Yet he’d still made love to me that night. The thought made me want to vomit.

But today was going to be a new day where I embraced my “weird” side and let go of another piece of my past.

I looked down at my feet to find Neville holding Luna’s favorite toy, a squeaky hot dog, in his mouth. He was about as forlorn as I was. I knelt down and scratched his head, “I know you’re missing her, buddy. I miss Noah too. He would love my outfit. Maybe he’ll let us have Luna over for a playdate. If he ever forgives me. Sorry, I screwed this one up. If you want, I found a YouTube channel about big beautiful dogs that you can watch.”

Neville curled his lip. I would take that as a no.

I stood and headed for my kitchen, which was a disaster area, to grab a protein bar. At least Noah had sent someone over this week to work on the countertops. I had a feeling he wouldn’t be doing any more of the work himself. So much for him trying to be a safe landing place and helping me to figure it out. I didn’t blame him; he had tried. It was for the best. I realized it was something I needed to figure out on my own. I was the only person who could give myself permission to love me. To even love the holidays again.

So, I was off to make a fool of myself. That’s how I rolled.

~*~

There was nothing that made my own worries seem so small like serving at the homeless shelter. As I looked into some of the vacant yet grateful eyes of those so in need, I appreciated my life more than I could express. Especially as I sat there with Hector after taking him a tray of food. His frail, scarred hand held my own as if he never wanted to let go. He said he hadn’t held anyone’s hand in at least twenty years. My eyes filled with tears thinking that even in my darkest hours, I always had a hand to hold.

The only thing I could do was sit there and listen to him tell me his story, one of many triumphs but too many bone-crushing tragedies. He was born to wealthy parents and had every advantage given to him, but he got lost in the world of drugs. Drugs led to prison, and prison led to more crimes and more incarcerations. Any family he had all but disowned him, even his children. He’d been living on the streets for years.

“You know my biggest regret in life?” his shaky, gruff voice asked.

“What’s that?”

“That I was too stubborn to ask for help. Don’t ever be afraid to ask for help.” Then he winked. “And I wish I would have kissed more pretty girls like you.”

I smiled and kissed his cheek. “I think you are a flirt.”

His free hand rose and touched his rough, worn cheek where I had just kissed it. Tears filled his eyes. “Young lady, that right there was the best gift I’ve been given in a long time.”

He had no idea that he was the best gift I’d been given in a long time. Perspective was such a beautiful thing. In that moment I realized how lucky I was. I didn’t want to blow that by letting Ben rule my life. No, I hadn’t taken drugs, but I had given control over to a powerful substance—fear. Fear of who I am.

I walked out of the homeless shelter with even more determination to not let fear rule me. And to be so thankful. So very thankful.

One of the people I was most thankful for, Mara, texted me as I got into my 4Runner.

Mara: Please send wine, it’s a crap show over here. Here’s the highlight reel for you. Claudia is livestreaming my spread and complaining how there is nothing worse on Thanksgiving than not being able to eat anything, all while giving tips about what to do about that. She can shove a piece of celery up her tight butt.

I giggled because I wouldn’t mind seeing that.

The text continued: My dad is being judgmental per his usual, now my mom is eating her weight in mashed potatoes. Ben has zoned out, looking like he’s questioning all his life choices, which he should be. Ugh. Anyway, happy Thanksgiving from the Scotts. If you see me on the nightly news, don’t worry about bailing me out, prison has to be better than this.

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