I think I can do without “the same” this year.
I’m so tired of them fighting over who gets to watch me open presents first. I’m not a child anymore.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s Dad’s turn this year.” I feel like an item being tossed around. Neither of them seems to care for my presence on other days of the year, but they’ve turned Christmas into a bidding war. Mom got me a new smartwatch last year, so dad bought me a new phone. I returned them both. I don’t want to be bought. I want to enjoy the holiday with people who enjoy being around me. If there are any.
Michael seemed to enjoy being with me last night.
“No. I distinctly remember your dad had you last year,” Mom says,as she does every year it’s not her year. “It’s my turn. Your dad can go find someone else to join him for the pathetic holiday he has planned.”
Christmas is in two weeks, but they’ve been fighting over me since I visited them both for Thanksgiving. I’m so done.
“You can visit him in the New Year. It’s not like he ever cared about—”
“Enough!” My volume startles me. “I quit!”
She scoffs. “What do you mean, you quit? Did you get a job I don’t know about?”
“No, I quit Christmas! I won’t be at your house, and I won’t be at Dad’s. I’m done.”
She’s silent as if she can’t believe what shejust heard.
I can’t believe I said it. I should feel bad but… I don’t. I think I should have said it years ago. Maybe it would have stopped their bickering sooner.
“You can’t quit Christmas.” My mom scoffs, her tone condescending. “Christmas is a time for family.”
“Which we aren’t.” My voice breaks. “All you guys do is fight, with me or without me. You can do it without me this year.”
“Juliet,” my mother starts, but I can’t deal with this anymore. My headache is back, accompanied by an old familiar heartache.
“I’ve got to go, Mom. Have a good Christmas.” I’m heartless and cruel, but I can’t bring myself to care right now. Ican’t do it anymore. I can’t be the chess piece between them. I won’t be the reason they fight anymore.
I feel like I’ve been dunked in a pool again, but this time the fresh air wakes me up from the dream I’m in. This thing with Michael may be fun now, but in six months or two years, what will it be? Feelings like this burn hot and fast until there’s nothing left. That’s why they’re so dangerous.
I don’t want to end up like my parents.
There’s a reason I don’t jump off cliffs, besides the obvious. It’s the same reason I don’t let anyone close. I learned this lesson when I was five, and I have the scars to prove it.
If you get too close to the fire, you get burned.
Chapter 15
Michael
I could have waited a few days to see Juliet again. Well, I could have tried.
But I didn’t want to.
I knock on her door and wait.
The door swings open a moment later, and a woman looks at me. She might be the same one who tried to run me off with a bat last night, but it’s hard to tell without the green stuff on her face.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re here.” She grabs my arm and pulls me inside.
Is she sleepwalking again?
“Juliet’s in an awful mood, and you need to fix her.” She tugs me through the kitchen and into a hallway.
“I don’t know if I can do that.” I’m not an expert on all things Juliet, even though I want to be.
