Before You Go

THIRTY-THREE

On Christmas afternoon, Dad and Amy rush around the house. They have been for hours. It’s weird. Amy is never frazzled, but the thought of hosting a holiday dinner for my mom and Stephen has her on edge. The Nelson clan left Illinois this morning and are due anytime. I feel sick, but I keep it to myself.

I help set the table with the silverware. Amy’s made everything look great. Each place setting has a card with a famous quote about the holidays. They’re wrapped with a sprig of evergreen from the yard. Mom’s quote is from Dickens: I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. A little subliminal note for Mom, we’ll see if it works. My place setting has a quote from Helen Keller that says: The only blind person at Christmastime is he who has not Christmas in his heart. As I toy with it, I see some writing on the back. I flip it over to read a hidden message meant for my eyes only. It’s quote by Victor Borge: Santa Claus has the right idea, visit people once a year. I laugh. You gotta love Amy; the lady is good.

The rest of my family arrives early afternoon and after an hour of uncomfortable small talk and togetherness, we sit down to eat.

Amy made a traditional turkey dinner with the works. I was in charge of the mashed potatoes and I’m now realizing they are quite lumpy. I doubt anyone will notice. Dad and Amy seem pretty uptight; Mom has a minuscule portion on her plate; Michael won’t realize it as he inhales the food; and Stephen is just too much of a gentleman to say Boo.

“Tabby,” Mom says as I’m feeling my way through the lumps of potatoes. “Stephen and I were wondering if you’d like to come home for the rest of the holiday break. We could give you a ride back on Sunday. Maybe you could see Megan and come to church—”

“What?” I interrupt, rather rudely I might add, but I’m not sure I’m hearing her correctly. I can’t believe my ears. She wants me to go back to that place? Visit with my so-called best friend who dropped me the second my trouble became public? My mother has clearly lost her mind.

“We miss you at home, honey,” Mom continues with her plea to get me back to Illinois. A small fire ignites in my belly and burns just below the surface. I think about blowing off Mom’s suggestion and making up some school excuse. I can’t and worse, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be in control. My jaw clenches and my hands ball up in fists. I try to hold it all in, unsuccessfully.

“You could’ve fooled me,” I say almost laughing. Sarcasm. Yes, sarcasm is much better than anger. “You’ve come to see me, what? Two times in almost five months. Your only daughter. This is my home now, Mom, and I have no desire to go back to that hellhole in Illinois!”

“Well, I just thought—”

“You thought wrong.”

“Tabby, what’s wrong? Why are you so angry? I thought you were still seeing someone to help with these issues.”

“And that’s just the way you like it, isn’t it?” I spit. “Someone else taking care of my issues. Always someone else. But what about you? Where do you come into all of this? Oh that’s right, you don’t want to know. Pretend none of it is happening so you don’t have to be responsible. You wanted me dating that a*shole, Thomas. You bent all the rules for him. And when he hurt me, you let him get away with it.”

“Tabby,” she fumbles. “What happened affected everyone, Stephen’s business. I—”

“Yes, Stephen’s precious business. God, Mom, you just don’t get it,” I say defeated. She really doesn’t and I’m not sure she ever will. “Just forget it. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”

I stomp off into the living room and stand by the window, drawing a Christmas tree in the condensation.

Michael comes in and adds his own artwork to my drawing.

“Are you okay?” he asks, drawing a star on top of my tree.

“Yes, fine,” I say. “I’m better now that I finally let her have it. That’s been building for a long time, but let’s talk about something else for once. Tell me what’s going on with you.”

“Really?” he asks.

“Yes, I’d say it’s about time, wouldn’t you?”

“Well,” he says. “I’ve decided on a school.”

It takes me a minute to process.

“What? Where? Why didn’t you tell me?” I demand, happy to focus on my brother for a change.

“Let me take those one at a time,” Michael laughs. “Yes, I’ve finally decided on a college. The U of M, and I’m not talking Michigan. It happens to be located right here in Minneapolis. And, oh yeah, I just got my acceptance letter yesterday. I wanted to give you the news in person.”

By the time he finishes his sentence, I’m jumping and screaming and doing a happy dance. It’s going to be a merry Christmas after all.

We make it. The holiday is officially over and nobody died. I’m lying on my old bed relishing in Michael’s news when Amy comes in.

“Hey, babe, how are you?” she asks.

“Not too bad,” I say. “I was prepared for the worst. And Michael’s news? Wow. Somehow it turned out to be a good day.”

“Yes, it has,” she says, snuggling in with me. “Ya know, Tab. I think all this time I’ve been blaming your mom and Stephen for everything that happened last year, but I think your Dad and I need to step up and take our lumps.”

Wait just a minute. Is she turning on me? Feeling bad for my mom.

“What’s this all about? Do you think I was too hard on Mom?”

“Nooooo. No. No,” Amy says.

Thank the Lord.

“Sometimes I don’t know what that woman is thinking, you had every right to say what you did. But, you know, maybe if your Dad and I were there for you—giving you what you needed—maybe things wouldn’t have gotten so bad. Instead, we smothered you with hugs and kisses. I thought we could love it away. I wanted so bad to take care of you and to make it all go away, but I never asked you what you needed from me. I’m so sorry, Tabby. I want you to tell me what you need. Can you do that?”

“This,” I say grabbing her hand while we lay in bed. “Just this.”

“I have a lot to learn about what it means to be a parent,” she says.

“Well, you’re about a million times better than my mom,” I tell her.

“She’s trying too, Tabby. She really is trying.”