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“Any one in particular?”
Palmer shrugged. “I know people go all out for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but I’ve never experienced any of the so-called magic that comes during the holidays.”
Kent frowned. He’d been vocal about how he hated that she’d grown up this way. “Well, for the Wagners, we go see my aunt and uncles for Thanksgiving. They have a huge house that overlooks the bay. My uncle does all the cooking, and every other year we swap duties. Like last year, all the women set up and cleaned. This year, it’ll be all the men. On Christmas Eve, we go to church with my dad’s family and then celebrate at another aunt’s house. There are so many aunts, uncles, and cousins, we do a gift swap instead of buying something for everyone. And then, for Christmas, we start off at home. My mom makes breakfast, and we open our stockings and then presents before heading to see my other grandparents. My mom and her sisters do all the cooking there, and when it’s time to open presents, we cram into the living room, and my grandfather puts on a Santa hat and hands them all out.”
Kent cleared his throat. “What was it like for you?” he asked nervously.
“For Thanksgiving, we’d have turkey for dinner and have to tell everyone what we were thankful for. I always said my good grades, because I honestly wasn’t thankful for anything. We’d have a Christmas tree, and all the decorations were made by the kids who lived in the home, which was neat. The staff would draw names of who they’d buy a gift for. I’d get things like a new notebook and pen or some socks. Sometimes, Santa would come and ask us what we wanted for Christmas and tell us if we were good little kids, we’d get it. By the time I was eight, I realized he was fake and nothing but a liar. I could be the best kid in the house, and I never got what I asked for.”
“All you wanted was a family?”
Palmer nodded.
“Jesus.” Kent wiped at his face, but the tears kept coming. “I don’t even know what to say.” Kent slowed down when he saw brake lights ahead. He glanced at the map system on the dashboard and sighed. “Traffic jam.” Kent pointed to all the red and moved the screen down to see how far the traffic was backed up.
“There’s nothing really to say. My life is what it is, or was, and there isn’t anything that can change things for me.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. My time’s up,” she said. “I definitely didn’t live life to the fullest, and now it’s over. I feel like I’ve wasted an opportunity.” Palmer sat forward and looked out her side window.
They sat in silence for about a mile. Kent fiddled with the radio. He scanned stations to find something to listen to, adjusted the volume, and then finally turned it off. He groaned to get her attention, mentioned he was hungry (which Palmer didn’t believe for a second because of the lunch he’d eaten), and played the drums on the steering wheel.
Palmer pressed the button to open the top and, for reasons unknown to her, she unbuckled and stood up.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Kent screamed.
“Living my life.”
“You’re going to get impaled by a pebble.” Despite the traffic, the Jeep crawled along at a snail’s pace.
“I see lights,” she yelled.
“Don’t go toward it.” It was a dumb joke, but Palmer laughed at Kent.
“That’s incredibly rude,” she said as she ducked her head into the cab. “But funny. I think there’s an accident up there.”
“Lovely.”
She stood back up and waved at people nearby. Whatever this was, it was fun. They weren’t going fast enough that she’d get hurt, and honestly, she didn’t care. She’d never done anything stupid or reckless in her life, and it was about time she started to live.
Palmer ducked her head in again and asked, “I’m supposed to live like I’m dying, right?”
Kent said nothing.
“I mean, I am dying, so why not start living.”
He shook his head. Her comment agitated him. She could see it clearly on his face and, for right now, didn’t care. Palmer stood up again and pretended she was Kate Winslet in Titanic, only at a standstill. She took in the noise from the oncoming traffic and welcomed the people who cheered her on. It was funny to her that something like standing up through the open roof of a car would get people to cheer.
When Kent picked up a bit of speed, she held on to the top as best she could, closed her eyes, and leaned her head back. She opened her mouth to shout but emitted a strangled scream instead. Palmer did it again, and again, until tears streamed down her face.
