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“Promise?”
“Promise,” I say.
She takes a deep breath. “I can’t imagine not seeing my parents on Christmas day. It would be a little different if it was more than just the two of us and we were creating traditions of our own, but I’m,” she pauses for a minute and then laughs. “I’m a baby and my parents’ only child, and I need this still,” she finishes quietly.
“I get it, Britt. We can do that. It’s fine.”
Finally, I get a smile out of her. “That’s why I love you.” She leans over to give me a quick kiss before turning back to the TV, now that the show’s on again.
“What is Christmas like with your parents?” I ask. “I mean, what traditions would you want to carry on with us?”
“We used to go pick out a live tree, but once my parents got older and I moved out here, we got an artificial tree. We decorate the tree together. Mom loves to throw silver tinsel onto the tree. We would have breakfast for dinner. She would pick a highlight from my year and find an ornament based on that. That was one of my four presents. The other three were something I wanted, something I needed, and something I could wear. I would probably be overwhelmed with more presents than that since I’m so used to it,” she jokes. “I think that’s about it. What about y’all?”
I shrug. “We really didn’t have any. For some reason, Christmas was always hard on my mom. Her depression almost always got worse, so what we did always depended on how she was doing that year. The older I got, the worse that time of year seemed to be. It’s why I didn’t go home for Christmas once I came here for college.”
“Do you wish you had?” she asks quietly.
This is something I’ve always struggled with. Would it have made a difference had I gone home? Would I have wanted to be there had it not made a difference? “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I try not to think about those kinds of things.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“What was it like growing up with a parent like that?”
God, this is the night we’re going to discuss my mom? Which, there’s never going to be a “good” time to do that. I feel like this was always waiting around the corner.
I think back on my childhood. I always knew my mom had bad days. But like I once told Brittany, she was the best mom she could be. I never wanted for anything. Dad picked up any slack when Mom was real bad off.
“It was probably different than yours, but similar at the same time. I knew something was wrong with Mom, that she was sometimes sick, but she was my mom. She mostly suffered in silence, at least with me. She took care of me, supported me, loved me, and all the important things, she did. She was a good mom.” I sigh. Although I know it’s good that I’m talking about this and answering her questions, it’s such a heavy, heartbreaking topic for me. “I miss her.”
Brittany leans into me, throwing an arm over my stomach and squeezing my waist. She doesn’t say anything, not that she needs to. This works just fine for me. “What was it like to tell your dad? Do you feel better now that he knows? We never talked about that.”
“It was hard. He was devastated and worried that I’d fall into the same path as my mom. I was still uncomfortable talking about it, so that didn’t help. I had to point out the ways I’m different than Mom. I had to share with him what my struggles were and how I reacted to them. In the end, he was glad I told him, that I was getting help, and I do actually feel better now that he knows. Although, I never told him about the times when I was suicidal. That is one thing I don’t think he could handle, and it was bad enough to rehash that time with you and with my therapist. I knew I didn’t want him to know. Still don’t.”
She’s quiet for a bit before she says, “I’m glad you started opening up. I couldn’t imagine keeping it all to myself.”
I kiss the top of her head. “I’m glad, too.”
I groan as I wake up. Brittany is still asleep next to me. Rolling onto my back, I stare at the ceiling. There’s a lot that needs to be done today. The yard needs to be mowed. The house needs to be cleaned. It’s time to go grocery shopping again. Tonight we’re supposed to go see the Zac Brown Band. The thing is, I don’t want to do a damn thing other than lie in bed and breathe. That is my version of doing nothing. I need to do that today, I think.
Usually, evenings are the worst time of day for me, but sometimes, I wake up and it’s already the worst time of day. This is one of those instances. There are two options. See how I feel throughout the day to see if I complete my tasks. Or, suffer through it. I wonder how pissed Brittany would be if I canceled on her tonight. She could take Melissa. Not to mention that it would be a good thing to send her away for a bit.
Lily lifts her head to look at me. “Go on outside,” I tell her. Sometimes, when we don’t immediately get out of bed, it’s like she feels as if she needs permission to leave the room and go outside. She stands and jumps off the bed. That little bit of jostling wakes Brittany up. She rolls to face me, her eyes open and a smile on her face.
“Mornin’.”
“Mornin’. Does Melissa like the Zac Brown Band?” I ask.
Her smile turns into a quick frown. “Why? You don’t want to go?”
“It’s already a bad day, Britt. There’s a lot to do around the house, too.”
“You don’t want to wait and see how you feel later?”
I think about all I want to do and what it’ll mean to have her leave me behind and go with Melissa. “Just see if she wants to go.”
“Okay.” She gets out of bed, grabs her phone, and walks out of the room without another word or glance.
