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“Hey, it’s okay. I know family can be complicated.”
“Because you clearly have a terrible relationship with your adoring sisters and mother.”
“My father, on the other hand.”
The rare sombre note in his tone made Devra sit up straighter. “Your father?”
The silence that followed was even rarer. She didn’t know whether to prod or pry or wait patiently for him to say more. She only knew this moment felt important, and that she wanted him to say more.
“It’s nothing,” he finally said. “We’re talking about you right now, not me.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
When he only seemed to drift further away, she tried more lightly: “Now that you know all my secrets, it only seems fair I should know some of yours.”
“It really isn’t a big deal.”
“I know,” she said. “But tell me, anyway.”
His eyes met hers, shimmering with all their layers. “I’d never want to compare it to what you’ve been through. It’s nothing like that. It’s just…” He trailed off before continuing more conversationally. “My father and I are in a bit of a standoff at the moment.”
“A standoff?” The word didn’t seem strong enough to match that initial blip she’d seen in his mood.
“He’s been upset with me since I told him about my issues with alcohol. Which is understandable, of course. I get that. Except it’s more like he’s embarrassed for me. Like he thinks I should have been able to deal with it on my own, instead of bringing the whole family into my mess.”
“Your mess?” she said, appalled. “You opened up to them. He should be proud of you for that.”
“Yeah.” He fidgeted with a paper clip. “Maybe we just need more time. I’ll be one year sober soon—have I mentioned that?”
“One year? That’s incredible.” She considered what it must have taken for Bradley to get from there to here. From the sad anecdotes he shared that hinted at a very lost man to the wonderful, determined, grounded person he was today. Someone who had done the hard work to change his life. “You were unwell, and you took the steps you needed to get better. You should be proud of yourself, Bradley.”
His face flickered with sentiment before he tossed her an oh-shucks smile. “I am. Really. A couple years ago I never would have imagined…But seriously, we should not be talking about me right now. I know my father loves me in his own way. Forget I mentioned it. Let’s refocus on you. On your story. Your mother.”
Devra stirred uneasily as the conversation reversed back to her.
“I think it might be worth trying to track her down,” he said. “Don’t you?”
She didn’t particularly want to. Some grand confrontation had never been one of her fantasies. She couldn’t really imagine how the fight would go, only how it would end. Her mother would massage the truth until they were living in her world instead of the real one. The woman was never one for taking responsibility. But the thought of losing her hope, this glorious sensation, simply because she was too scared to try?
Tabs jumped down from a shelf, landed on Devra’s head, and gave a fierce hiss. The timing of it was inarguable.
“All right, all right.” Devra liberated her scalp from the kitty’s claws and, for the briefest of seconds, managed to cuddle the animal to her bosom. “I hear you loud and clear, Tabs.”
If she wanted to change her life, she needed to be brave, like Bradley had been.
“Let’s do it,” she said. “Let’s find my mother.”
Despite her grand proclamation, the task continued to prove difficult. When several dozen internet searches for a Maddison Harrison and her maiden name variant came up empty, Bradley and Devra shifted their attention to possibility number three: the cursed object.
Devra immediately thought of her melted ponies, their faces warped and appearing to drip. But she’d thrown those macabre toys out years ago. When she’d moved out of her family home, she’d been so hopeful the relocation would allow her to escape the curse that she’d intentionally brought very little with her. Still, Devra and Bradley did a thorough search of her home. They looked for anything from her childhood. For anything that might jar free some lost memory, or any object that gave off mystical vibes—whatever the heck those might be.
They came up empty. Again.
“Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way,” Bradley said.
The two of them were lying in opposite directions on the crowded carpet, their heads close together, arms limp with exhaustion. While they’d only been at it for one day, it had been one very long day, and it was hard for Devra not to feel discouraged.
“We’re looking for the cause without knowing the origin,” he went on. “If we can figure out the exact starting point of your family’s curse, that might help us narrow down what exactly we’re looking for.” He rolled onto his side and propped his head up on one hand. “What’s your very first memory of a tragically ruined Christmas?”
