But this panic has become a semi-regular feature, which she knows is likely not normal or healthy, but also seems to be part-and-parcel of being a certified adult... from what she can tell, anyway.
‘Aren’t you doing Christmas up there with Ambrose?’
‘Oh, no. Ambrose’s going home to their family. They’re not staying here over Christmas,’ she says, still trying to sound casual and slightly upbeat, as though she was actually really pleased for Ambrose to be celebrating with their family and not here.
Haf catches herself. Obviously, she’s happy Ambrose has plans. She just wishes there was a backup, a plan B, a spare Christmas arrangement available to her right now.
But it’s a whole desert of nothing.
And it’s the 13thof December already, so there’s basically zero time left; everyone who isn’t a complete disaster will have sorted their plans weeks ago.
The chasm of a solo Christmas opens up before her.
‘Are you upset? Oh dear, David, she’s upset.’
Haf curses herself. Her parents have internal radars for negative emotions and are like bloodhounds specifically trained for lies. And it doesn’t help that her face betrays every thought and feeling she ever has at the exact moment she has it.
‘I said we should have double-checked with her, Mari,’ mutters Dad, whose cheeks have gone bright pink under his beard.
‘We did!’ she hisses, turning the phone so that all Haf can see is the ceiling while Mum clearly berates him. After a moment, it flips back to showing her Mum’s entire face bellowing, ‘Are you upset, darling?’ Haf’s pretty sure this is supposed to be consoling rather than sounding like the voice of God as it echoes around the room.
‘I’m—’
‘Are you dating anyone? Maybe you can do something nice with them?’
‘I—’ she stammers, horrified that somehow this conversation is getting worse.
Haf decides the best thing she can do right now, which is admittedly not the most grown-up option, is to hang up. They’ll just worry if they think she has nothing better to do. She’ll ring them back later when she’s decided what the hell she is doing, or at least come up with a better cover story.
After all, she might be desperate but she’s notquiteready to beg her parents to take her on their romantic Christmas holiday.
‘No! No, I’m absolutely fine!’ she says, plastering on the biggest fake smile. ‘I have a lot of plans, yes. Just working out which one to pick, ha ha. In fact, Ambrose and I are just off to a party thing, so I’ve gotta go! Oh, in fact, there they are! Gotta go! Call you soon! Love you, bye.’
As she hangs up, she cuts off her mum shouting goodbye.
Haf puts the phone face down on the coffee table just so she can’t see any well-meaning follow-up messages, and unpausesGilmore Girls.
‘Bad news?’
Haf leaps out of her seat as Ambrose materialises in the living room, a sheet mask stuck on their face. ‘Christ, warn a girl before you walk in with those on. I thought you were a ghost.’
‘A sexy ghost, though, right? The kind you would want to be haunted by.’ Ambrose glides down onto the couch, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised, wrinkling the sheet. ‘Didn’t you just say to your mum I was here?’
‘Oh, well. Yes. But that was a lie.’
‘You don’t usually lie to them. You’re shit at it,’ they say, taking the remote and pausingGilmore Girls.
‘They’re going on holiday for Christmas,’ Haf moans.
‘Oh nice... or, not nice? Did they not tell you?’
‘Apparently they did, and I completely forgot,’ she says sulkily, pulling the blanket up to her face.
‘Uh-oh.’
‘Uh-oh, exactly. Of course this shitty year would end with me being alone for Christmas. Baby Jesus has it out for me, I swear.’
‘Given you’re a heathen, I don’t think he’d care,’ they say, wrapping an arm over the back of the couch and stroking the top of Haf’s hoodie-covered head.
