Faking Christmas(18)

It took me a moment to adjust my face back into some sort of (hopefully) pleasant expression. Of course I wouldn’t have my own cabin. That idea was for people with luck on their side. I felt a brief stab of guilt at my disappointment in the new living arrangements. Truth be told, I probably should have planned it like that from the very start. Ben and Chloe could certainly use some help with the girls, and wasn’t this whole week supposed to be about spending time with family?

“Would you prefer to stay with your parents? They’re in a small cabin as well, but it would have less people.”

How to put this nicely? Thank you, but I would rather jab a hot needle into my eyeball. I wasn’t sure what kind of love life two newlywed married widows in their fifties had, but I wasn’t about to find out.

With a practiced smile, I said, “No, my sister’s cabin will be great. Thank you so much.”

And just like that, my last vestiges of hope for surviving the week were shattered. There would be no lounging in a bubble bath, reading. No late-night TV binges. No safe place to hide when the strain of my fractured family threatened to overwhelm me. There was no escape. The week I had already been dreading for the past month just went from bad to much worse.





FIVE





Terminators are immune to pain. I am not. Please don’t bite me again.

The Terminator





After I left the lodge, I climbed back into my car and drove down the freshly plowed street toward the village, leaning forward to scan the cabin numbers. Although the cabins were spread out quite a bit, the pathways between them had been freshly cleared of snow. Number seven was a small A-frame close to the road, with a porch running across the front. I parked just behind Ben and Chloe’s green Subaru and killed the engine.

Here it was. The start of fake Christmas. That’s what I was calling it in my head. How could it be real without my dad here? And even more than that, how could we replace him so quickly with…something else? Something so different? This was all just fake. Bright, flashing lights in a store window; aisles and aisles of cheap toys. A distracting excursion while we all tried to pretend that our family infrastructure hadn’t imploded.

I thought I had made my peace with it, I really did. But this time of year felt so raw. The snow, the lights, the Christmas music, the baking, and the holiday smells had cemented the last moments with my dad deep into my weary soul. He passed away a week after Christmas. Last year, Chloe and I had camped out at the house, knowing his time was nearing the end. Those last few days, hospice had a bed set up for him in the living room. Though the week was one of tears and sadness, I couldn’t deny that it was filled with sweet and beautiful moments as well—the four of us all together for the last time. Mom and Chloe and I would crowd around his bed, playing cards, rehashing memories, and laughing about childhood antics–jokes we’d played, the times Dad had made us laugh, or made us mad, or taught us a lesson. He tried his hardest to stay awake for our visits. Some days, he put in a better fight than others, but oftentimes his eyes would glaze over while we talked around him, looking peaceful, which is exactly how he went. One moment, Chloe was telling us about the time she snuck out of her window late at night to try out her new bike headlights in the dark, and the next, he'd given one last smile and shut his eyes for the last time. His sickness of two years finally coming to an end. And now, it was Christmas again. It was amazing the difference a year could make.

I gave myself another minute of deep breaths before finally opening my door. The crisp air filled my lungs as I hefted my suitcase and duffel bag out of the trunk. I wondered briefly if I should have thrown in a few more books. I had my comfort reads, Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice, and of course my Kindle, but was that enough to dilute the senses for what was surely to come? Probably not.

I climbed the sturdy steps onto the porch and gave the door a quick knock. As I had learned from one unfortunate incident, Ben enjoyed walking around in his underwear in the comfort of his own home. So now, I always knocked first, and I always waited to be let in. Ben opened the door this time—fully clothed, thank goodness. He waved me in while making an apologetic gesture toward the phone at his ear. His blonde hair was combed stylishly, and he wore tailor-made jeans with a quarter-zip sweater. Closing the door, he threw me a smile and a chin thrust without skipping a beat in his conversation, then turned and disappeared into another room.

A small living room greeted me. It included a brown couch, a chair, and a coffee table. Just past that, tucked into the corner, was a small kitchenette with a fridge, stove, and microwave and four maple cupboards surrounding it. Two small doors on the opposite side led to a bathroom and the small bedroom Ben had just occupied. Though it was about the size of a hotel room suite, the cabin had the appearance of being newly built while still maintaining a rustic charm.

It felt warm and welcoming, or that could have been the three-year-old blonde terrors who launched themselves into my arms the moment they saw me.

“Aunt Owive!!!”

Laughing, I dropped my luggage and pulled both of them into a bear hug. I relished the feel of their little arms, a death grip around my neck, and only let go to tickle their sides.

“I thought I told you two to stop getting so big.”

“I tawer than sissy,” Ivy stated proudly while Holly began rummaging through my duffel bag.

“You made it!” I glanced up to see my older sister walk out from the bathroom. Standing up, I reached out to greet her with a hug. Though she was four years older, we were at eye level at five foot six. Where my hair was dark brown with auburn highlights like my dad's, hers was light brown like my mom's. We both had Mom’s pert nose and a light sprinkling of freckles across our faces, however. Though still thin, Chloe’s body had rounded and softened the past few years, due in part to becoming a mother, and it looked good on her.