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“How about you? How was yours?” I ask her.
“Well, you know.” She indicates the empty apartment with a wave.
Kara has a mother. She’s a nice lady—when she’s sober—but poor as dirt, lives with some guy that doesn’t want to get a job, and makes a pass at Kara every time she’s there. So Kara doesn’t really go home much. Makes me wonder how her mother could pick a guy over her kid. Okay, maybe she’s not such a nice lady after all.
But then again, maybe I don’t have a prize for a mother, either. Well, at least mine’s sober, I think to myself. I guess I’m lucky in that regard.
I lean down, unzip my bag, and pull out a crumpled rectangular box. Kara gives me the eye, like she’s thinking, ‘What the heck?’
“Merry Christmas,” I say, handing her the Christmas-paper-wrapped box.
“We said no gift exchange.” She gives me a dirty look, crosses her arms over her chest.
I know she couldn’t afford one if she’d wanted to, so yeah, I agreed to that stupid decision.
“That rule sucks.” I put the present on the dented and scratched coffee table in front of her. “So take that.” I push it her way. “And don’t make any more stupid rules like that again.”
“Whatever.” Tears glisten in her eyes. “Thanks.”
Kara’s an only child. The only child of a woman who can’t stay sober, has never taken care of her, who even lost her to the foster system for a half-dozen years. And a non-existent father, whom she’s never met.
Yeah, whenever I start to have a pity party for myself, I rethink it, because she’s got it way worse than I did. She has a scholarship that pays for her tuition and some of her room and board, but she doesn’t get enough to fully cover that. Plus, there’s living expenses. She works way more hours than she sleeps.
Kara pulls on the red ribbon surrounding the Santa Claus gift wrap. She looks up at me. A tear has slipped out and is making its way down her cheek. She swipes it away impatiently with the back of her sleeve. She doesn’t like giving into emotions. She’s more the practical type. Many days I wish I could be more like her, instead of always succumbing to my emotions.
“Wow.” She takes out one of the two pairs of jeans I bought for her. She eyed them the last time we went shopping, and I’m pretty sure the size will work. “I love them.”
“Kinda practical. Sorry.” I feel the need to apologize because I don’t know what else I could have bought her. Those are the only thing I’ve seen her eyeing in the last few months.
“I love practical. And I love these jeans.” She holds up a pair. “This is awesome.”
Her reaction makes me pissed at her mother. “Why don’t you put them to good use? My treat. I’ll take you out to dinner.”
“It’s New Year’s Eve.” She says it as if I don’t know. As if I’ve come from a place that doesn’t celebrate that.
“So?”
She shrugs.
“You would rather stay in?” Okay, so secretly, yeah, I’m hoping she says yes, because really, I still feel shitty. The last thing I want is to be out around people having fun, kissing each other when the clock strikes midnight, blowing their little party favors, and all that other hoopla.
“I guess not.” She worries her lip, twisting her dark hair around her fingers. “Hey.” Her eyes light up. “Let’s go to that new... well, un-new... bar that Riley was talking about.”
Wow. Not what I wanted to do tonight. Then again, what I want to do is lose myself in a sinkhole or under a rock. I hold back the cringing and wincing I want to do at her idea. “Okay.”Hope we don’t stay out late.
“Don’t sound so thrilled.” Her sarcastic tone isn’t lost on me, but I’m not going to react to it.
“Sorry. Just a little tired.”
“Remember what Riley said.” She winks. “There’s a hot bartender there.”
I force a smile to my face. “Yeah. Let’s see if we can’t hook you up.”
Kara shakes her head. “I was thinking more like, let’s hookyouup. I’m too busy. You know that.”
“How about we just get you laid?”
“Pshaw. You know I don’t go in for the one-night stands.”
