Jesse
NOW
The next morning, I find myself shifting boxes around in the backyard shed. There’s an extra pep in my step—something I literally never thought I’d say.
I guess that’s what happens when you finally get something you’ve been dreaming of for so long.
It takes everything in me to focus on the dusty cardboard boxes, trying to remember which one Penny said to grab. She was brief this morning, but I noticed the sunshine returning to her face.
Scanning the stacks, I see one labeledChristmas 98.
Penny might have a point about getting rid of some of this stuff.
“Forget the boxes right now, let’s start with the tree.” Fia waltzes into the shed, startling me.
“Sure, sure.” I turn and run a hand through my hair, grabbing the bag with the tree in it.
“I can’t believe Christmas is in three days and we’re just now putting up the tree.” Fia sighs, hands on hips.
“You know you could’ve asked me to do this earlier?” I hulk it over my shoulder and walk past her into the yard.
She follows me, opening the back door so I can wedge the faux tree through. Tank gets one look at the seven-foot tree bag and scatters, letting out a low growl as he disappears into the dining room.
Fia shakes her head. “I know I could’ve asked you to do this earlier, but I was preoccupied with other things. Christmas snuck up on me this year.”
Penny points to the empty spot next to the fireplace. “Right there.”
It’s the same place the tree went every year I lived here.
I raise my brows at her. “Bossy.”
She swats my arm, but a small smile plays on those lush lips.
The lips I can’t stop thinking about.
The girls get busy fluffing out the fake spindly branches, and Tank tiptoes into the room, eyeing the tree.
“I don’t think he likes it.” Fia tilts her head toward my dog.
“I’m not sure he’s ever seen one, to be honest.”
Penny freezes, head snapping my way. “You never had a Christmas tree all the years you lived in California?”
Californiacomes out of her mouth like a foreign word, as if she’s only now beginning to accept that’s where I’ve been all this time.
“No, don’t believe so. My studio apartment was tiny, there wasn’t space for decorations.”
“Yeah, but it’s Christmas,” Fia adds while intensely focused on getting the branches to stick out at the perfect angle. “It’s not the same as hanging pictures on the wall.”
This fake tree is on its last legs, like everything else in this house, but I don’t mention it.
Penny’s gaze lingers on me, her face fallen. “What did you do each year…for the holidays and such?” she asks, unable to hide the emotion in her voice. A mix of sadness and curiosity. Just like when we were teenagers, and she asked me about my father. She cares deeply, but she keeps it locked deep down.
I shrug and lift a box of ornaments off the floor, placing it on the coffee table so I can begin to unwrap them. The tissue paper is worn and thin, almost disintegrating at the touch.
“Sometimes I’d go out to eat, have a beach bonfire with friends, or go to the movies.” I hand Penny a red bulb, and she takes it from me, her smile gone. “It wasn’t a big deal,” I reassure her, suddenly feeling like I need to cheer her up.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here with us this year,” she replies, and Fia glances at her sister, but neither of them says anything else on the matter. Maybe they don’t know what to say.
