Page 57 of Winter Break Up

“Emily, this is Mercer we’re talking about. The guy has been in love with you since I threatened to punch him in the nuts in middle school for looking at my sister during the birds and the bees talk in health class. He’s the most loyal, true, supportive person I’ve ever met. I know you’re going through a rough time, but you also have to keep in perspective what you know to be true about yourself, about him, and about how you guys were when you were together. I’d hate to see two people I love be so miserable because they couldn’t figure it out. Just don’t shut him out. Don’t abandon this because you’re too scared of the future. Focus on what you actually know, and I think you might find the courage to actually let yourself be happy.”

A teary smile is directed at him, and I can barely form words I’m so choked up.

“Jeez, that was enough sappy niceness to last me a month. Fuck, I need to go make a fool of myself or something.” He cringes and shakes like he’s trying to get the brotherly love off of him.

“You’re the best of us, Char.” I tilt my head to the side and give him puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t tell anyone else. Or, actually, you can go tell those girls over there. Sing my praises,” he jokes.

“Kids, they’re going to start.” Mom and Dad hustle back over, tittering with excitement.

The whole town quiets down as the mayor gets on the microphone to talk about the holiday season and then announces some township events since she has everyone’s rapt attention. Then the countdown starts, and the three trees being judged light up the space in merry, cheerful brightness.

Whoops and hollers go through the crowd as people start to yell out which tree farm has their favorite entry in the competition. I hear a lot of Palmer shouts, but just as many for the other two. Beside me, Mom is nearly jumping up and down with anticipation while Dad is biting his fist.

The microphone screeches as someone starts talking, and then a big cheer moves through the sea of people as Mom body slams into me for a hug.

The moment they announce that Palmers Tree Farm wins the tree-off, I can’t help but picture Mercer in my mind and think that he should be here, celebrating in this victory that is just as much his doing as it is my family’s.

I also can’t help knowing that it’s my fault he isn’t.

25

EMILY

I’ve never been so miserable on Christmas in all my life.

Not the year I got the flu when I was ten and couldn’t go to our family get-together. Not when Charlie broke my princess dollhouse mere minutes after I opened it. Not even that first Christmas home after freshman year of college where I was both anticipating and also fearing seeing Mercer if he showed up in town.

As I stare into the mulled wine Dad served us all while we settled in with our books, I can’t help but pout as sadness weighs my chest down.

Our Christmas Eve tradition is not cheering me up even an ounce. Since we were twelve or so, Mom has always bought each family member a new book that we open the night before the holiday. Then, we all settled in on the living room furniture in pajamas and turned Christmas music on the record player before reading at least five chapters before we head up for bed. Charlie protested at first until he found the science fiction genre he was obsessed with.

It’s usually one of my favorite traditions, but tonight, I just can’t get past the first three sentences of my serial killer thriller.

The only thing I can focus on, the only thing spinning like a top over and over again in my mind, is that I’m throwing away the only boy I’ve truly ever loved because I’m so damn scared. Mercer was right when he called me out, and Charlie was also right when he echoed the sentiments.

I came home this holiday season a shell of myself, and in no time, Mercer Russell helped remind me who I am. He’s been unfailing in his presence and listening. I’m the one who is about to ruin us all over again, if I haven’t already. I can end this suffering. I can stop my melancholy and go take a drive over to his grandfather’s house to talk to him.

But the self-sabotage, the negative thoughts, the sick-to-my-stomach feeling that won’t go away even with the emergency anxiety pill I took an hour ago … those all stop me. I know this is how I’ll feel when he’s on the road. I’ll always have doubts or questions, even when he’s given me no reason to think any of that about him.

“Sweetheart, can you help me in the kitchen for a minute?” Mom taps my foot from where she lies on the other side of the couch.

Coming out of the haze of my endless Mercer thoughts, I nod in confusion but stand to follow her.

She’s stopped, leaning a hip on the kitchen island, when I make it into the room.

“What do you need me to do?” I yawn as the question comes out.

“Oh, nothing, I just thought maybe you wanted to talk about Mercer without Charlie and Dad overhearing.”

My jaw drops. “Not you too! How did everyone know we were …”

Telling my mom that I was in a fuck buddy situationship with my ex-high school sweetheart is probably not the way I want to play this.

She holds up a hand. “I don’t need details, thank you very much. I just know you two were spending a lot of time together, in the old way, like you used to. It was so obvious, I’m not sure how you two thought you were keeping it a secret.”

Mom smiles at me with amused sympathy, and I sigh as I set my elbows on the island and bury my head in my hands.

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