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“Well, remember, they got a couple of hours jumpstart on us.” That’s right. Time change.
“Did you already talk to ’em?”
“No, your mom texted. Said we didn’t want to slow them down this morning. We’d rather see ’em in person so we can hug their necks.”
A knock at the door grabs Dad’s attention. He says, “That’ll be Sandra. Why don’t you let her in? Bet it’s been a long time since you’ve seen her, right?”
“Yep.” My gaze falls to the well-worn wooden floor, and I head down the hall like a teenager caught in a lie. Maybe they already know? Or is it all in my head? A classic telltale heart issue. At thirty-four, I shouldn’t have to lie.
When I swing the door open, Sunny bustles right past me. As I close the door, I hear her greet Mom and Dad with a loud Merry Christmas. I shuffle my socked feet down the hall to the back of the house with my hands shoved in my trouser pockets.
“There you are. I was wondering where you went off to,” Mom says.
“Just let Sunny in.”
“Oh. I didn’t hear you two greet each other.” Mom looks at me with that all-knowing look again. But then, she turns her back to me to mess around with the stove. Maybe it’s all in my head. “Now, Ian, honey, can you set the table? We’re going to have a down and dirty Christmas brunch this morning, because I want to have everything cleaned up so we can have a late lunch with the crew. They’re gonna be hungry when they land, you know. Their clocks will be ahead of ours.”
“By one hour,” I say.
Dad peers at me over the rim of his paper. I read him loud and clear.Do as your mother says.
A spread for twelve covers the table, but the second it appears we’ve all reached our limit, Mom is up and gathering plates.
“Where’s the fire?” I tease.
She waves at me like I’m being silly.
Dad says, “You gotta understand, son. She’s got grandbabies coming. She’s got a lot of stuff on her list to do to prepare.”
“Oh, I was thinking they wouldn’t arrive until later?” Sunny asks.
“Well, soon enough,” Mom gushes. “But y’all sit back and watch football.”
Sunny and I ignore her and help clear the plates and clean up. Then Mom gets serious and practically steers us both out of the kitchen, pointing to the back porch. “Y’all go sit by the Christmas tree and watch the TV with your dad.”
“Oh, I think I’m going to head on,” Sunny says.
“What?” Mom flattens her palms on her apron like she is wiping them clean. The thick glass on her frames makes her eyes seem larger than they actually are, and I don’t miss how her gaze flits back and forth between Sunny and me. “Honey, you don’t want to spend Christmas Day alone. And you just got here.”
“Oh, I don’t want to infringe on your family time.” Sunny lifts her cooler and the empty bag she used to bring presents over. “And besides, I’m stopping by Liam’s to see what his kids got, then Kara’s, and then I’m having dinner with Noah.”
What the hell?
“Well, okay, dear, but I don’t want you rushing out. You know, you’re family, too.”
“This was so lovely. Thank you for having me over,” Sunny says, gathering her things and getting out of the house so fast you’d think there was a medical emergency.
She isn’t going over to see Kara. That’s a bald-faced lie. Kara is in North Carolina with her family. Sunny told me she couldn’t leave for Houston until New Year’s Day because she is short staffed, and the closer it gets to New Year’s, the busier they get.
I don’t bother seeing Sunny to the door. Mom handles seeing her off. I join Dad outside on the sofa.
“Would you mind getting me some sweet tea?” he asks the second I sink into the cushion.
“Not at all.” I head back into the kitchen. I can hear Mom’s voice, trying over and over in her sweet way to convince Sunny to stay. Part of me wants to walk down the hall and tell Mom to give it up. If after twenty years, she still can’t be in the same room with Sam, there isn’t anything, or any person, that is going to change that.
Do I factor into this at all? Is she uncomfortable with the idea of being in the same room with Sam and me? Does that even make sense?
The uneasy feeling in my gut has grown into a full-on bellyache. I pop some Tums. I’d like to crash on my bed and fall asleep. This feeling in my chest sucks. But it’s Christmas. And if I close my bedroom door, Mom will worry. So, I shuffle into the den and feign interest in grown men tackling each other.
