I tried not to sound annoyed with Meredith, because it was Charles I was annoyed with. I looked up at the ceiling as I added more gently, “I’m not trying to minimize your concerns. They are valid. Women are treated unfairly in this business. But in our case, it’s been almost a decade since we dated, and you’ve been with Addison for years now. You don’t have to worry about those rumors. Charles is just trying to get to you. I’m not going to do anything to perpetuate those rumors.”
Meredith knew all of this but needed reassurance. I knew her concerns about her reputation were real, and I felt some regret that I could be part of a narrative that might hurt her.
I tried to lighten the mood. “So, Mer. What did you get Addison for Christmas? Something expensive since you’re working on Christmas Eve, I hope.”
“Are you drinking?” Meredith asked.
“Why would you ask that?” I looked at my phone to make sure my camera wasn’t on.
“You only call me Mer when you’re drinking. So, I hope it's an expensive whiskey, at least.” She took a deep breath like she was afraid to ask. “Are you spending the holiday alone?”
“No, of course not,” I lied.
“Okay, good. Because you know, you’re always welcome to spend holidays with Addison and me,” Meredith said softly.
“What? And start that rumor mill? Adopted by my co-workers? No thanks,” I playfully scoffed. Meredith laughed.
“Okay, I’ve got to go.” Meredith said. “Merry Christmas, William.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too.”
I watched my phone light up and then go dim as the call ended. I sat back in my seat and thought more about my conversation with Meredith. This was not my first ‘reality check’ conversation with Meredith, and it probably wouldn’t be my last. A lot of people didn’t like Meredith because she was so direct, but our friendship had been one of the only constants in my life since grad school. Meredith’s top priority was her career. I respected that Meredith knew what she wanted and that she could get it on her own. Meredith wanted the credit for getting to where she was in her career, rightfully so. I hated the thought that people might think otherwise.
I knew what I needed to bounce back from this work funk. I needed to eat real food. Rita had left me a note earlier this week letting me know that she, Kit, and all the other renters would be out of town until New Year’s. She said she’d left some frozen dinners in the freezer for me if I wanted them. I decided I needed to eat something more substantial than potato chips tonight.
I took the back staircase down to the kitchen, and while I was rummaging around in the freezer, I heard something in the front room. I thought I was in the house alone. I looked around for something to defend myself with in case it was a break-in. I picked up the rolling pin off the counter.
Maybe this was someone breaking into the house because they thought it would be empty due to holiday travel. I quietly crept down the hallway, past the stairs, and into the foyer. I could hear someone rustling the boxes under the Christmas tree. I crept farther into the foyer and, before I could surprise the intruder, I heard gentle bells and then Mariah Carey singing about how she didn’t want much for Christmas.
I peeked around the corner and saw the back of Kit singing and dancing around the Christmas tree to Mariah Carey’s greatest hit. I leaned against the doorway to the front room and crossed my arms in amusement. She was really getting into it. Somewhere around the first key change at the bridge she twirled around, her eyes went wide, and she screamed as soon as she saw me.
I stood up and put my hands out. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she gasped. “You scared the shit out of me.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. She was wearing a knee-length pajama shirt featuring a picture of The Grinch and mismatched socks pulled up to her knees. Her hair, which was typically pulled back into a neat braid or bun, was in the messiest nest on the top of her head. And I was a little too far away to see from where I was standing, but I’m pretty sure she was wearing a retainer.
“I’m sorry,” I said when I stopped laughing. “Rita told me everyone was going to be gone from Christmas Eve to New Year’s Day, so I thought I was alone. Aren’t you supposed to be at your dad’s?”
Kit let out a deep breath that blew through her lips like she was calming down. “Yeah, I was, but when I got to the airport my dad called to tell me his flight from London to D.C. had beencancelled and he wasn’t sure when he’d get home. So, I decided to just visit him another time.”
Then as if realizing she wasn’t alone and was standing in front of me in an oversized Dr. Suess-themed T-shirt, Kit shifted her weight, looking a little uncomfortable. She put her hand on her hip. “But what are you doing here? I assumed you’d be visiting your family or girlfriend or something, like everyone else?”
“Eh,” I lied. “I needed to get some work done.” I wanted to change the subject, so I offered, “I was looking for something to eat in the kitchen. Want to join me?”
“Yeah, that would be nice.” Kit looked like she was finally relaxing. She started to walk toward me but then remembered something and said, “Oh, when I got home, there was a package on the porch for you.” Kit pointed to a large crate sitting under the Christmas tree.
I recognized the wooden crate immediately. I felt some relief that I had something to offer. “Perfect!”
“What is it?” Kit asked curiously. I headed over to the tree and picked it up off the ground. “It’s my annual gift from my boss. He sends me the same thing every year.”
Kit followed me into the kitchen, and I put the crate on the large island. She looked curious as to what was in the crate, and I couldn’t help but think how cute she looked, trying to peer over the top of the box as I cracked the crate open.
“My boss sends all his directors his favorite bottle of bourbon every holiday season,” I said, pulling out a ridiculously expensive bottle. Kit tried to hide a look of disappointment. I smiled when I said, “But even better, he also sends his favorite red wine, and this year it looks like he sent two bottles of red.”
Kit’s eyes lit up in a way that let me know she was interested. I had noticed that Kit mostly drank red wine whenshe was at The Pub, so I guessed she would like this. She picked up the bottle and examined the labels. “Can we open one?”
“Of course!” I said. She moved across the kitchen to get a bottle opener. I pulled the rest of the contents out of the crate: a container of chocolate-covered pecans, gourmet smoked sausage, cheese wheels, and crackers. When Kit turned around and saw the rest of the gifts from the crate, her face completely changed from simply content to actual excitement.
