Page 12 of Holiday Hater


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Spotting Blaire sitting on one of Lillian’s sofas, I join her and try to join in the conversation with everyone. I try so hard to pay attention but feel I am receding into myself with every ten minutes that passes. Am I being stood up? It feels like it. I check my phone. No notifications. I feel overwhelmed with the yearning to be home with Lila, lying in bed with my baby, watching Disney. What am I doing here? I mean really? I’m on Lillian’s sofa waiting for a guy to turn up as if I haven’t learned anything the last nine years.

Just when I don’t think I can feel any lower, I toss the glass of champagne down, wincing as the bubbles bite my throat. As I lower the glass, the light catches it, pulling my attention across the room. My brain seems to digest it in small pieces. First, I realize I’m staring at Noah. I finally found him, but he isn’t looking for me because he’s too busy with a redhead in his lap.

Bile rises up in my throat, making me regret chugging the alcohol as everything suddenly feels louder, more invasive, too much. Blaire is too busy in the conversation to notice my departure. I need to leave. I don’t want to say anything to anyone. I don’t want there to be a scene. I don’t even want anyone to know what I saw.

This feels like the typical cruel shit that always happens to me at Christmas. What did I expect? My legs shake all the way back to my apartment.

Moments after I have locked the door and begun taking my shoes off, I hear the knocking and my name. I want to open the door, scream at him, and make him take this feeling away from me.

Except he can’t take this feeling away because the damage is done. He was a wonderful glimpse into a life I thought I was more than happy not to have. I had come to terms with being alone and throwing myself into raising Lila. Except he teased me with a future with a partner, possibly more kids, and a true storybook happily ever after, and then he snatched it away.

Chapter Fourteen - Silvia

I’ve done a pretty good job of avoiding him, but it’s just about the only thing I have done good. The last two weeks have been nothing but deleting unread text messages, ignoring calls, and binge-watching television with Lila in the evenings.

The days are the hardest because Lila is at school. The second she gets home, I’m okay. I got my baby girl there to pour my attention on, but when she’s not there, I can’t bring myself to do anything at all. I can’t remember the last time I felt so shell-shocked. I can’t get past going from feeling so excited about a future with a man only to have him turn out to be jackass. Why did he do it? Was it a game? Let’s see if we can break the single mum’s dry spell? Then move on to the pretty ginger girl?

“You look like hell.” Ivy’s voice is soft, gentle, and threatens to bring tears to my eyes. My Lord, what have I turned into?

“Thanks.”

She tuts, planting herself on the stool in front of me. “You haven’t worked it out with him yet?”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing to be worked out.” I cared about him, obviously more than I should have and he’s a player.

“Have you even spoken to him? Because he has spoken to all of us…” She looks at me like I might break with her words, but I’ve already heard from Blaire that he had been talking to everyone. He’s just trying to save face.

“I’m not interested.” I reach for the decaffeinated coffee to make her a latte.

“You’re being stubborn and stupid.” Her voice comes out blunt this time. She’s persistent; I’ll give her that.

“I know what I saw.” It makes me feel stupider every time I think about it. I let him spend time with Lila. How can someone do that? I must really look like some kind of joke to him.

“Yes, but what you didn’t see is him trying to get her off him when he saw you leave. You haven’t seen the way he has been since.” She takes the latte I offer her but puts it down on the counter. “I’m not going to push you back to him if he was guilty and you two are both intolerably miserable…”

“I don’t think it is salvageable, Ivy.” She seems to sense the finality in my voice because she stops. Pursing her lips, she picks up her coffee.

Even though we stop talking about it, my brain doesn't stop going over what she said as we sit in silence. She wouldn’t be pushing me back to him or trying to defend him if he was guilty. So if he is innocent… what does that mean for us?

I spend all day until Lila gets home trying to find an answer to that question, but the fact that I can’t find one says it all. Proves how over it really is. I want to be able to tell myself to go running after him and apologize, but I can’t. What if I am right? What if everyone else is wrong and I end up getting hurt again?

“Is Noah coming tomorrow?” she asks but before I can even think of coming up with an answer, she seems to startle within herself. “Can I have some wrapping paper, Mommy? I forgot I need to wrap presents.”

I finish pulling the brush through Lila’s hair; she doesn’t sit still long enough before jumping off the chair to her feet. At least I’ve avoided that question. He’s not coming and I know he promised her that if she wanted him here, he would be and she told him she did. Why did I let him disappoint her like that?

“You’re going to bed. Why do you need wrapping paper?” I lead the way to the bathroom. I sit down on the toilet, like I do every night to watch her brush her teeth.

“Because after you’ve tucked me in bed, I want to wrap your Christmas present.” She says it so matter-of-factly. No hesitation of telling me the truth about intending to stay up after bedtime. Although I can hardly scold when the reason involves Christmas presents.

“Okay, it’s all in the bag under the sofa. Take what you want but put it outside your bedroom door when you are done with it because I’ve got my own presents to wrap.”

Her eyes light up at the thought of her own Christmas presents.

“Uh! No! I promise not to peek at my present if you don’t peek at yours!”

She pouts but nods in resignation. “Deal.” After wiping her mouth and putting her toothbrush back, she helps herself to everything under the sofa and carries it in her arms to her room.

“Tell me when you’re ready for me to say good night.”

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