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It takesus two days to arrange everything, and by Tuesday evening, we have a plan. We have ten days and contemplate flying versus driving. In the end, we decide to take the Defender. That way, we won’t have to leave it at the airport with ourpretendski gear and won’t have to rely on cabs or Uber when we get to our destination. The goal is to push it and make the drive in three days, which gives us three days to find out what happened to me.
I domy best to stay busy. I spend almost every night at Denielle’s house to avoid being around Heather and Tristen. Mrs. Keller often travels with her husband to conferences he’s speaking at, but since it is the week before Christmas, she’s deep in holiday preparation. She’s absolutely delighted with my intrusion in her house. I had made myself scarce over the last month, and she caters to Den and me with snacks and drinks like we’re back in middle school having a sleepover.
I love it.
Emma and Sloane join us twice, and I enjoy being around my friends. I’ve avoided them for the most part because I never knew when a migraine would hit.
I have to let Denielle in eventually, especially after she covers for me, but for now, I push that thought out of my mind. Staying busy is top priority, and thankfully, she doesn’t pressure me.
The first few times Rhys and I text when I’m at her house, she assesses me carefully. She was the one who picked up the pieces two-plus years ago, and I can’t fault her for being suspicious. Toward the end of the week, though, she must realize that since I am okay, she can be as well. I gotta love my best friend for always watching out for me and having my back. I know how rare it is to have such a genuine friend in life and how lucky I am.
On Christmas Eve,I am a nervous wreck. Rhys keeps throwing mekeep-it-togetherlooks all day. I’m waiting for Heather and Tristen to call us out.
We have our traditional Christmas dinner of turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing, mashed potatoes, corn, and green beans. Every year, Heather makes a tri-color gelatin mold in the shape of a Christmas tree. White, red, and green, but no one ever eats the white. She mixes nuts in it to make it appear like Christmas lights. Red and green are spared the disgrace as the nuts wouldn’t be adequately visible, according to her. Rhys and I always say that this is just plain wrong. Why would anyone ruin perfectly good Jell-O with nuts? Heather doesn’t care, though; her mom made it that way, and so does she. That doesn’t stop us from making fun of her all night.
At one point during dinner, Heather starts talking about a Christmas party when Rhys and I were little. Heather laughs at Tristen but talks to me. "Rhys chased you with a fake snake through the house. Who gave him that thing again?"
Tristen is focused on Rhys, but he only shrugs, keeping his face expressionless.
No idea if he does or doesn’t remember.
She snaps her finger. "Rob Drager!" When she notices the question mark on everyone’s face, she adds, "He used to live a few houses down. He worked at the zoo. Don’t you remember, Tristen?"
Tristen just mumbles between bites, "Uh, yeah. I think so."
I doubt he does.
"Anyway..." The attention is back on me. "You come around the corner and run straight into the camping table that was set up next to the kitchen. The table folded down on itself, and you were covered in vanilla pudding and cranberry sauce. You were so upset that you ruined everyone’s evening. Rhys was laughing like a hyena, and I had to send him to his room." She winks at Rhys.
Then, she adds with a bright smile, "Only the Jell-O mold survived."
I glance over at Rhys next to me, who watches me carefully, before I ask softly, "When was this?"
His eyes widen; he understands immediately. I don’t remember any of this.
Heather looks at Tristen thoughtfully. "Hmm, I think that was our last Christmas before moving to Virginia. Tristen?"
He nods in agreement. "Sounds about right."
My entire body goes rigid. They are talking about the Christmasbeforeeverything happened. When I wasnotpart of their family. And yet they talk about it as if it were the most normal thing ever. Like I lived there.
I’m being choked by the rage that instantly starts building inside of me. How. Dare. They. Trying to control my breathing, I count backward, but it’s not working.
Then, Rhys touches his leg ever so slightly against mine under the table, and I gain control again. Heather and Tristen keep talking, oblivious to what just happened here. When my breathing has evened out and the red haze lifts, I return Rhys’s gesture to let him know that I’m okay.
I remain silent for the rest of dinner. I am terrified I’ll say something that gives away that I know. At the same time, I also try to figure out why Rhys seems to be the person who can always make mecome back. Without him, I wouldn’t have been able to keep up the pretense. Another layer of the wall of betrayal and distrust toward Rhys has been chipped away tonight.
After the tableis cleaned up, the dishes are in the dishwasher, and the leftovers are in the fridge, we watchA Christmas Storytogether. I purposefully position myself at one end of the couch and pull Natty down next to me when she walks in. Rhys is at the other end of the sectional, as usual when we do something as a family. We keep as much space as possible between each other. That leaves the middle for Heather and Tristen. Before settling down, Heather grabs my favorite navy-blue throw blanket from the back of the couch and drapes it over Natty and me, smiling down at us.
I mumble, "Thank you," avoiding eye contact. Rhys observes me; he’s probably waiting for me to snap. Only Natty, Heather, and Tristen don’t notice anything.
My little sister cuddles against me, and the movie keeps me semi-distracted until I can escape to my room.
Thankgoodness Christmas Day goes by fast. We open presents after breakfast, and I focus on Natty the entire time. We retreat to the couch where she immediately starts reading the book I bought her during my shopping trip with Denielle. I get a play by play while she is skimming through. For a ten-year-old, this child can read incredibly fast. Heather is on the phone with her mother and sister, and Rhys keeps Tristen involved in random sports conversations. I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose.
After lunch, I head upstairs to finish packing. I hear a soft knock on my door, and before I can say anything, Rhys slips into my room, quickly closing the door.
"They’reSkypingwith Aunt T, so I figured it’s safe."
