I look at her, really look at her.Black wool coat.Soft copper curls.Concern in green eyes that somehow still look at me gently even when I feel like I’m splintering apart inside.
“I’m glad you came with me,” I admit as I look into her eyes.
Her thumb brushes once across my knuckles.“Me too.”The lie almost makes me smile.
My mother opens the door before we even knock.She freezes the second she sees Vanessa standing beside me.Not disapproving, just surprised.
“Hayden.”
“Hi, Mom.”
Emotion flickers across her face before she steps aside to invite us inside.“Come in.It’s freezing.”
The house smells like cinnamon and pine and grief.I don’t know how else to explain it.
Christmas decorations cover every surface; stockings, garland, candles, and ribbons.Like my mother is trying to disguise a wound that never healed in the first place.
“Mom, this is Vanessa.”
My mother’s eyes soften.“Oh,” she nods and smiles.“You’re Vanessa.”Something about the way she says it makes me realize that Luc must have been talking with my mom again.
Vanessa smiles.“It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart?Jesus.I grind my teeth and glance toward Vanessa and catch the tiny flicker of surprise across her face too.
My father appears from the living room a second later, taller than me by maybe an inch, even now despite age softening him around the edges.“Hayden.”
“Dad.”
Then his eyes land on Vanessa and something complicated moves across his expression before he steps forward to offer his hand.“It’s good to finally meet you.”Finally?Interesting word choice.
Vanessa shakes his hand.“You too.”
Everything feels too polite.Like all of us are avoiding certain fractures in the floorboards.Then Vanessa’s attention catches on something in the hallway, or more specifically, the framed photographs lining the wall.
I see the exact moment she notices Emily, and her dark curls and bright smile.The gap-toothed grin frozen forever at six years old.My chest locks as my breath catches in my throat and I feel Vanessa goes still beside me.
And God, there it is; the beginning of understanding.How my parents have memorialized a daughter that’s no longer here.Freezing her in time.Focusing on her so hard, that the son that’s still here is almost forgotten.
Dinner is worse than I could have imagined.Not because anyone fights.Because nobody does.The polite silence is what kills me.My mother overfills wineglasses.My father asks safe questions about the band.Christmas music hums somewhere in the background.
And beneath it all, sits Emily.She’s no longer here, but she’s everywhere.In the empty seat at the table, in every pause, in every glance, and in every careful redirection.
Vanessa stays close to me the entire evening.Close enough that her knee rests against mine beneath the table.Grounding me without making a spectacle of it.At one point, my mother disappears into the kitchen after dessert.
Vanessa notices and rises from the table.“I’m going to help her,” she informs me.
Panic flashes through my chest before I can stop it.“Vanessa.”
She looks at me with a soft smile.“I’ll be okay.”
I nod once and watch her disappear down the hallway, and then it’s just me and my father sitting alone at the table.And the silence becomes unbearable.My father stares down into his whiskey glass for several long seconds before speaking low.
“She would’ve liked her.”
The words hit like a physical blow.Emily.We never say her name out loud.I swallow hard.“Yeah,” I agree roughly.“I think she would’ve too.”
