“Dad, is there really no cell service here? How have you been sending emails?”
“There is Wi-Fi in the house, but you’re not getting the password. No one is.”
“Seriously, Daddy?”
“December 26th, and not a minute sooner, so if you have emails to send, I suggest you shoot them off in town. You okay with that, Eli?”
“Fine with that, Sir.”
“Call me, Allen.”
“Will do, Allen.”
“Ass-kisser,” I mumble, to which he chuckles in reply. I know for a fact that Eli only has one social media account, LinkedIn, because I have searched a few times over the years. My searches were fruitless, making it clear he never grew out of being an introvert. The shit part is because he is, I was never able to see any recent photos of him. His profile pic was his company logo, which kept the mystery alive. Mystery no more sits next to me now that I know it was a blessing to be in the dark. I was better off not knowing how well he’s taken care of himself, or how incredible he smells, or that my body reacts to him the same way it did when we were in college.
“It’s beautiful here,” Eli remarks as a cluster of overhanging trees give way to a spectacular mountain view, the early morning sun reflecting off the white-tipped branches. “Peaceful.”
Mom turns in her seat. “Being from LA, it must have been something of a culture shock coming out here for college.”
“Actually, I moved to North Carolina when I was thirteen, but yeah, it was a welcome one. Chicago was great for a while, but I like it out here much more.”
“It’s God’s country, isn’t it, sweetheart?” Mom replies. “My Dad always said so.”
Momentarily stunned by her term of endearment, Eli manages to speak up. “It is. So, what are the rules of mystery Rudolph?”
“Pardon?” Mom asks, confused by his abrupt change of subject.
Family was—and seems still is—his favorite topic to evade, future talk a close second. He successfully sidestepped both with me for the entirety of the time we dated. Which, in turn, inevitably broke us up. After, I realized I was subliminally trained in the beginning not to ask. Though we were intimate and at times felt as close as two people could be, after we parted, I realized I only ever knew the Eli of 2004 and was left mostly in the dark about the twenty-one years of life he lived before me.
Mom takes Eli’s cue. “Basically, it’s what Gracie told you, you buy for the person you chose to show how well you know them, but in your case, anything will do. The price limit is twenty dollars.” Her smile widens. “I can’t wait to see what Brenden buys this year.”
“I hope like hell Brenden didn’t pick me again,” Dad says, slowing to a stoplight.
Eli chuckles, the smooth sound ridiculously alluring, and I can’t help the intake of cologne before turning my attention back out of the window.
“Spray once, walk through, done,” I mutter in exhale.
“What’s that?” Eli asks as I shake my head, staring at the snow-dusted church to the left of us. The sign on the marquee out front reading ‘Jesus is the reason for the season.’ Determined not to inhale fully until safely in town, I speak up. “Are you going to midnight mass this year?”
“Every year, and you know this.” Mom answers. “Eli, it’s optional for you. And Whitney, if you really want to skip this year, again, you can.”
“Oh, I am.”
Mom twists in her seat to address Eli. “If you’re sensing a story there—”
“Don’t you dare,” I cut in. It’s only 10 a.m. on day one, and already I want to crawl up into the attic and sleep the rest of the week away.
Eli glances at me gleefully. “This I have to hear.”
Mom lets out a devilish laugh. “Are you going to tell him, or do you want me to?”
“I’ll take option C. None of the above.”
Mom ignores my plea. “Whitney had a little tryst with the Priest’s nephew years back, and after, he followed her around like a lost puppy, and she was his missing bone.”
“Mom!”
“What? It’s true, my little tramp. It took us years to be able to face the congregation after that scandal. My own mother was mortified.”
Face burning, I ignore the icy gaze on my profile as Dad speaks up. “Seriously, Ruby, I know we said we would be hip parents, but that’s taking it a bit too far.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
“Still, it was a hoe thing to do, Sweet Pea,” he adds as the whole SUV—with the exception of me—bursts into laughter.