Page 111 of Deck the Hauls

Christmas was beyond redemption. First Bowie’s death, then Jake and Kelsey, and now Emily. Perhaps I could make it a tradition of going somewhere Christmas wasn’t celebrated. Skiing in Japan—do they celebrate Christmas there? Or Saudi Arabia—I was pretty sure I remembered reading Christmas was banned there, or at least heavily restricted. That sounded like my kind of place. Although, was homosexuality illegal there? Perhaps it wasn’t my kind of place.

Crack.

The wood split. I threw it on the ground and picked up another piece. I’d cut enough wood over the last few days to keep me going until at least next winter, and while I was definitely fitter for it, it hadn’t helped me work through any of my feelings.

The only thing that was crystal clear was that I really missed Emily.

Crack.

An image of sitting with Emily and her family at Thanksgiving dinner morphed into a memory of Christmas at my parents’, before Bowie’s death and everything happened with Jake and Kelsey. Mom and Dad, puttering in the kitchen, making questionable Hoffman family Christmas recipes, and then gathering around the dining table, carrying out Mom’s English tradition of pulling Christmas crackers, reading bad jokes and wearing paper hats that ripped at the slightest tug.

And…and I did miss my family.

I rested the head of my axe on the ground, staring at the wood in front of me as I caught my breath, my chest heaving.

Mom and Dad had been collateral damage in the Kelsey-and-Jake drama. It wasn’t fair to them to keep my distance, only see them every couple of months and never celebrate holidays together. And I had to acknowledge my contribution to the whole situation. Jake and Kelsey had asked me if they could date. I should have said no at the time, instead of not objecting but then holding it against them. All the time I'd spent pining after Emily recently had also led to a newfound appreciation for their perspective as well. You can’t help who you’re attracted to, and it couldn’t have been easy for them trying to ignore it.

The past few weeks, I’d started to seriously entertain the possibility of returning home for Christmas. Seeing Emily’s family celebrating Thanksgiving together had made it feel like a real possibility. But that had all been because I had Emily by my side—and because I’d imagined Emily would be there to support me. Being with Emily had helped me realize what I was missing out on. But did I want to keep missing out on that just because Emily had left? Could I do it without her?

I lifted my axe and brought it down again. Maybe I needed to channel some of Emily’s energy. She fought for what she wanted, instead of moping around feeling sorry for herself. She wanted to be a successful actress, so she took action even if it meant making some difficult or uncomfortable decisions. Like sending me away.

An image of Dad showing me how to hold the small axe Santa left me under the tree on Christmas morning, almost twenty years ago, flickered in my vision. Me excitedly yelling at Mom and Jake to watch me as I brought the axe down, splitting a small piece of wood almost in half. My eyes welled with tears.

I threw down my axe and ran to the house.

If I couldn’t have Emily, at least I could have my family.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

EMILY

As I sped down the highway, I chewed on my lip.

Some of my initial excitement at going to find Dana had worn off, replaced with worries. What if my appearance upset Dana? I’d tried calling her a couple of times, and it kept going to voicemail. Perhaps I could call Roz, at least see if she had any information about Dana? If Dana was having Christmas dinner at their place, perhaps it would be better to wait until after Dana had finished, rather than interrupting everyone to declare my feelings.

I clicked the voice assistant button. “Call Roz.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t find a Chaz in your contacts.”

“Not Chaz, Roz.”

“Calling Nachos-R-Us.”

I let out an exasperated sigh and pressed the red button to hang up.

“Call Roz,” I repeated with my very best enunciation.

“Calling Roz.” Roz’s name flashed onto the screen.

Oh, thank god. Those years of voice lessons weren’t in vain.

“Emily?”

A lump formed in my throat, and I realized I hadn’t thought through exactly what to say.

“Hi, Roz, sorry to bother you—and Merry Christmas. I was just wondering if you knew what Dana was up to today. Is she having dinner with you?”

I winced. I sounded like a creepy stalker ex. I wouldn’t blame Roz if she didn’t respond.