“She’s been asking us to visit for two years, and I’ve been putting her off…” She doesn’t say it, but I hear it. Because of you. “Anyway, this year, I don’t want her to be alone on Christmas, Sage. It could be her last.”
But what about Shane, I want to say, but my aunt doesn’t know his circumstances; she doesn’t realize that his dad hasn’t been to the trailer since he bought it. She can’t know. Which means there’s no point in arguing. As far as she’s concerned, he’ll be spending the holidays with his dad. And he would be, if his father wasn’t such a coward. Besides, Shane’s loneliness isn’t more pressing than Aunt Helen’s. I resign myself to the inevitable.
“When are we leaving?” I ask.
“You get out of school on the twenty-second?”
“I think so.”
“Then we’ll head out the twenty-third.”
“When are we coming back?”
“January second. It will be safer to avoid the New Year’s traffic.”
Though I don’t say anything, I’m quietly crushed. I’ve always wanted to kiss somebody on New Year’s Eve, and this time, I want to start the New Year with Shane. But there’s one more tactic I can try.
“Won’t you miss Joe?” I ask her.
She sighs. “Of course. But I haven’t seen Aunt Helen in years. Hopefully he’ll be around for a while. She may not be.”
There’s that old superstition about whatever you’re doing on New Year’s Day, that’s how it’ll be all year. So people try to avoid conflict and spend time with their loved ones. In my case, it looks like I’ll be sad, lonely, and wishing I was somewhere else.
I’m not looking forward to this trip, but when the time comes, I pack my bag and trudge out of the house with my aunt. She pauses at her car with a faint sigh.
“It’d be a lot easier if you would road trip,” she tells me with a flicker of impatience.
I brighten immediately. “I’m happy to stay home.”
“I don’t care if it’s more work, that’s not happening.”
I sigh and follow her down the driveway. Greyhound stops at the gas station, and from there, we ride to the train station an hour away. I don’t object to public transportation since the system moves a lot of people; it’s less wasteful. My idiosyncrasies stretch a five-hour trip to eight, by the time you factor our trip on the local bus that carries us relatively near Great Aunt Helen’s apartment. Gabby is rumpled and grouchy when we arrive.
I wish I could say the holidays are awesome and that Great Aunt Helen’s delightful, but in truth, she’s old and irascible, and she has too many cats. There’s a lumpy sofa with my name on it, and I live for texts from Shane, and What’sApp messages from Lila and Ryan. I’m reading one now, three days after Christmas, and trying not to laugh.
Lila: did she ask you to rub peppermint lotion on her feet yet?
Ryan: please tell me she knitted you something
Lila: was there a cheese log? Please let there be cheese log!
Despite my bad mood, I’m smiling when I curl up on the couch much later. It’s so lame, but I actually go to bed with my phone, just in case Shane sends me something when he gets off work; he’s pulling overtime during the break, giving other stockers a chance to be with their families. I hate that he spent Christmas alone. What was it like? Did he make some real food or just open a can of soup?
Sure enough, my phone vibrates just past midnight. You up?
I text back, Waiting for you. How was work?
Sucked. Miss you.
Me too. I wish I could hear his voice, but then I might wake up the aunts. Or Great Aunt Helen might yell at me for being a rowdy miscreant; she’s always saying that about her upstairs neighbors, and that’s an ordeal best avoided. So texting it is.
Seems like you’ve been gone longer than 5 days.
Tell me about it. There’s nothing to do and I haven’t seen anyone younger than 65, besides my aunt Gabby, since we got here.
Only 5 more days. We’re halfway there.