We pull into Dad’s driveway, the tires crunching over snow-covered gravel. The place looks smaller every year, and I try not to let how I feel about that show on my face.
I kill the engine and turn to Iris and then Alex. “This won’t take too long.” When I asked Iris to meet my dad, she didn’t seem thrilled, and I can’t say I blame her. I’m a little worried myself.
But he’s still my dad.
I just hope he doesn’t scare her off.
Inside, it smells like stale smoke and bourbon. The old recliner’s still in the same spot, and Dad’s parked in it, watching a game on TV, but I can tell he’s not really paying attention.
He doesn’t have it in him to care about much these days.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, setting everything on the rickety old table. “Brought you some of the casserole you like and a couple of presents.”
Dad grunts, looking at Iris standing behind me. “Girl’s damn near tall as you, boy.”
“This is Iris, my girlfriend,” I say, keeping my voice even. “She’s coming with us to Ben’s.”
Dad’s laugh smells like whatever’s in the cup by his chair. “Figures. You always did like ‘em fancy.”
Alex shifts behind me, and Dad’s attention snaps to him. “You,” he says, words slurring. “What are you doin’ in myhouse? You know you ain’t welcome here.”
I clench my fists at my sides. Dad’s always got a chip on his shoulder about Alex when he’s drinking.
I know he blames Alex for Mom dying, and I figured we were all in agreement that he’s spouting off his bullshit, and none of it means anything. But after my conversation with Alex at the lake, His comments hit me square in the chest.
Before I can say anything, Iris rests a hand on Alex’s shoulder, who’s already frowning at the floor. “Nate, I think we’re going to wait in the truck.”
“Damn it, Dad. It’s Christmas. Can’t you just try to be nice?”
Dad waves a hand, scoffing. “Christmas. Same damn dog and pony show every year. You all actin’ like we’re some big happy family when we ain’t.”
“Ben and Liz would love it if you came. You’d get to see the kids. Meet Lizzie’s baby girl,” I tell him, hoping that maybe this will be the year things change.
Dad snorts. “Ain’t no point. I don’t need your charity, boy.”
“It’s not charity,” I start, but he’s already leaning back, dismissing me like he’s got anything better to do.
I look at him, the man he is now, and the man I remember when Mom was alive. I’ve been grieving somebody who isn’t dead for seventeen years. “Alright, Dad. Merry Christmas.”
When I walk out the front door, Iris and Alex are standing against the truck. Alex is saying something I can’t hear, and Iris nods, pulling him into a hug that he goes into willingly. She’s so damn good to him. I don’t know what we’d do with her.
And I swear, like something out of a movie, it hits me right there, clear as day.
I’m in love with her.
Ben and Gracie’s place looks like a damn Christmas postcard.
Snow piled on the porch rails, colorful Christmas lights, decorations all over the yard, making me feel bad about the ones I put up.
As soon as I cut the engine, the kids run out onto the porch, bouncing on their feet. Alex climbs out first, carrying the food, while Iris and I follow, our hands full of presents.
Noah’s already dragging Alex to show him his new toys before we’re all the way inside.
When I look back at Iris, her hands are empty, and she’s slipping off her coat, and I think I forget how to breathe for a minute there.
Becausemy god.
She’s wearing a red dress that complements her brown skin perfectly, with thin straps, tight until the skirt hangs loose from her waist. Her dark waves are styled in shiny curls, while her lips match her dress.
