Faking Christmas

Knowing what I knew of Russ, I could very well imagine him in the middle of the fray with his kids, childlike excitement in his manners, just like he was looking at us now.

This didn’t necessarily feel like climbing Mount Everest or scaling a ninety-foot wall, but it was perhaps a tiny step forward I could take. “I guess we could try it Russ and Ben’s way. But if it sucks, we’re eating breakfast first next year.”

“Deal,” Russ said.

Mom gave me a small, relieved smile, and we all sat down while Russ began handing out presents like Santa’s elf. Russ’s way wasn’t half bad, except that the excitement of Christmas was over much earlier. We each walked away with a handful of presents, and to my surprise, my lame gift to Russ of a digital picture frame was received like I had just handed him keys to a sports car. If I wasn’t careful, Russ’s excitement for life and people might start to endear him to me. As it was, we ended up having a nice morning together. Different, but nice. I could at least say that much.

After our breakfast of fresh maple cinnamon rolls, cut-up oranges, and hot chocolate, Russ stepped into the bedroom, claiming he needed a nap after all that sugar. Soon after, Ben and Chloe left for their own cabin to attempt a nap for their own sugar-crazed children.

My mom and I sat next to each other on the couch, a brief moment of awkwardness between us at our sudden alone time. I hadn’t really spoken much to my mom this whole trip once I moved to the other cabin. Some of that had been intentional. Wherever my mom was, Russ was somewhere nearby, and I hadn’t wanted to deal with him. But now, for the first time since coming, I wondered if this Christmas had been strange for her, too.

“Have you had a nice time here?” I asked, almost bracing myself for her answer. Why was it all so hard? Why did there have to be so many emotions tied up into the holidays?

A smile touched her lips. “Yes. This place is almost magical.”

I nodded. Even though it still didn’t seem quite right to make memories without my dad, I thought of my time with Miles and couldn’t deny the magical qualities of this place. I glanced again at my mom. She was still smiling, but it almost looked pained. It didn’t reach her eyes. Like mother, like daughter, I guess.

“You and Miles seem pretty cozy. How are things?” She said the words but still wasn’t looking at me.

Suddenly, I was tired of the fake. I actually wasn’t even sure what was fake anymore. But it was time. “Mom, I need to tell you something.”

She looked slightly alarmed but waved me on. I took a deep breath and blurted, “Miles and I were never really dating. We were pretending so I could get the Fosters off my back.”

“What?”

I smiled a little sheepishly. “I’m sorry. But I really didn’t want to get set up with Glenn.”

“I don’t understand. Why couldn’t you have just told me that?”

“Because he was already coming. Next time, could you give me more than twelve-hours notice that you’re inviting my ex-boyfriend to our Christmas vacation?”

“I thought you’d be excited to have an old friend. I knew you wouldn’t want to hang out with us the whole time.”

Well, that was true. “But he wasn’t an old friend. He was an old boyfriend, and I broke up with him. And…it wasn’t a good plan.” I didn’t want to dive into Glenn’s less-favorable qualities, so I didn’t.

Her mouth had been open as if to argue before she closed it and leaned back against the couch. “Well, then, I’m sorry. I thought the two of you were still friends. The way Glenn lit up when we mentioned you’d be there, I wondered…but I didn’t know how you really felt. I just…I knew this Christmas was going to be hard, and I wanted you to have a distraction. Something fun to look forward to.”

I hoped that, one day, Glenn found a girl who would find him an exciting distraction, but I was definitely not that girl.

Her brows furrowed as though she had just thought of something. “You two really aren’t dating? I saw that mistletoe kiss.”

“The anti-mistletoe kiss,” I said. “Apparently, I missed by about thirty feet, so Miles says we have to do it again.”

“What a tragedy,” she murmured.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m not really sure what we are. The past few days have been fun.” And sweet. And eye-opening. “But we work together. I don’t think he’s too concerned about that, but…”

“But you are?”

“Yeah. I’ve had a bad experience with dating coworkers, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean that will happen this time.”

I nodded, leaning back into the sofa, my arm brushing against hers. “How did you and Russ meet, anyway? I mean, I know you were at the restaurant, but how exactly did it happen again?” I felt a bit guilty even asking this. It was my mom. I should have known her and Russ’s story, but it’s amazing what details slip your mind when you spend seven months trying to forget it even happened.

A small smile broke out across her face. “It was a coffee shop, actually. He tried to pick up my order.”

“What? How?”

“When they yelled out a very clear, ‘Elaine,’ he came up and bumped into me and claimed they had said, ‘Russ.’”

I huffed out a small laugh, shaking my head, imagining his frank nature shocking my mother.

She opened her mouth like she was about to speak again, but then suddenly, her face crumpled like a napkin. Her hands moved to cover her face, hiding from me while her shoulders tensed against mine.

“Mom?” I grasped her arm in some alarm.

My touch seemed to unleash something from deep within her. Now, she was crying. She tried to stop once but only succeeded in moaning and sputtering a laugh, desperately wiping tears from her eyes.

“Mom,” I said again. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, taking a deep breath. “This place and all the Christmas things…it’s been fun, but I’ve had a hard time not reliving last year. It’s been good not being home, but it’s been hard, too. I miss him so much.”

Pure relief filled my entire body. Her words filled cracks in my heart almost instantly. I needed this so badly, to hear her say she missed him. That she hadn’t forgotten. Now, it seemed silly to even have questioned that. Perhaps she had been putting on a good face, too.

She cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Mom, I need to see you cry.”

Her face looked up to mine. “What?”

I stared at her, collecting the thoughts that suddenly rang so true in my mind. It wasn’t that I couldn’t find it in me to be happy for her or even try to get along with Russ. After this week, I truly felt like I could do that. But I needed to know my dad was still a part of our lives.

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