“Oh, did you figure out what you were going to get Sawyer?”
“I did,” I say with a triumphant smile.
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Nope.” She swats at my shoulder and I head to my room to find my thick slippers. The floors are cold right now, but they’ll be warm as soon as Dad gets the fire going. I help Mom get dinner going. This is the pre-Christmas Eve dinner and it’s also a tradition. We make sandwiches and chips and iced tea and have a floor picnic. I used to think everyone did this when I was little, and then I asked a few people about it, but they gave me faces like I was crazy.
“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Sawyer and Melanie over. They don’t have any family coming up this year, so I didn’t want them to be alone.” Usually, Sawyer and his parents had relatives that came up, but this just must be an off year or something. Hearing that makes my heart hurt for him. This is one time when I absolutely don’t mind her inviting him over for Christmas Eve-Eve dinner.
As soon as she says it, there’s a knock at the door and then Sawyer walks in, carrying a few grocery bags, followed by his mother, Melanie, with a dish of something.
“Melanie, it’s so good to see you,” Mom says, rushing over to take the dish and give her a huge hug. She is a shadow of the woman I used to know. For the wife of a man who owned a lobster pound, she was always dressed to the nines, whatever that means. She had her hair done and beautiful clothes and jewelry. She was the prettiest woman in Saltwater, and one of the smartest, having a master's degree in marketing. She ran the advertising and so forth for the business, and also did a lot of volunteer work that no one ever really knew about. One of those people who was always doing good for others, but who never wanted credit for it.
Now she looks tired, and broken down. Her hair has roots and hangs limp on either side of her pale un-made up face. I’ve never seen her without makeup before. She’s still beautiful.
Her eyes find me and she smiles.
“It’s so good to see you, Ivy. It’s been a long time.” I give her a hug and I can’t speak for a moment because I know I’ll start to cry if I do.
“I’m so sorry,” I choke out before I can get a grip. Sawyer’s fingers brush my back and I manage to keep it together.
“Thank you so much, Ivy. Clint was very fond of you and he asked me if I knew what you were doing the day he passed.” It is now a monumental effort to not cry. I don’t think it’s ever been harder in my life to stop myself. She seems to sense that as she squeezes my shoulder, and then goes to help my mother get everything set up in the kitchen as the minions run and scream. They seem to have only one volume right now.
“You okay?” Sawyer says in my ear. I shake my head and start walking to my room. I know I don’t have to ask him to follow. He does, and closes the door behind us.
I sit on my bed and take several deep breaths. The house smells like wood smoke now, one of my favorite scents in the world.
“That was rough,” I say, putting my hands on my knees. Sawyer crosses the short distance to the bed and sits down next to me. We’ve spent a hell of a lot of time in this room. Lots of things have happened in this room . . .
I look up at him and I wonder if he’s thinking about it too.
Memories flutter in my mind like butterflies, darting around, just out of my grasp. If I reach out, I could catch one and relive it again. Do I want to?
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been in this room,” he says in a low voice, as if he’s afraid to be too loud. The walls aren’t going to cave in.
“I know,” I say, just as quiet. The noise outside the door is like a storm raging around us. But it’s still and quiet here with Sawyer.
“I got you a present,” I say to stop the silence from stretching too long, and also to try to bat the memories away.
“You did? You know I hate presents.” He smiles and I know he’s joking.
“That’s such a lie. Everyone loves presents.” He used to tease me like that all the time. “Now the question is, did you get me anything?”
“I might have.” He did? Now I’m surprised.
“What is it?” He leans toward me and shakes his head.
“I can’t tell you what it is until I give it to you. That’s how this present thing works. You don’t get it until Christmas. Can’t break those rules.”
“Rules are meant to be broken,” I say as I move closer to him. His smell quickly fills the room and it’s bringing those memories forward without me even having to try.
They crash on me and I know they’re crashing on him too, judging by the look on his face.
“Same bed,” he says, nodding at the quilt.
“Same bed,” I echo.
“It seems smaller.” Yeah, it does. I remember when we both had to sleep in it, curled together so neither of us fell off the edge. Sawyer’s feet always dangled because he was so tall. I look into his blue eyes and he takes a shaky breath.
And the door bangs open.
“What are you doing?” Damn minions. Sawyer and I break apart as if we had been doing something illicit instead of just talking.
“Come on,” I say heading for the door. No privacy in this house. We hadn’t had much back then, either.
Everyone loads up their sandwiches and plates in the kitchen and gets their drinks as we head for the living room, which is strewn with pillows so everyone can sit. That’s the rule. You have to sit on the floor on Christmas Eve-Eve. No chairs allowed.
Of course there’s some shuffling and I end up with Sawyer on one side and my Dad on the other. Lovely. I feel like I’m under a microscope. Not that my Dad was ever very strict about me and Sawyer. Sometimes I thought my parents should have been more strict with us. They didn’t mind him spending the night, or me spending the night at his place, or us being alone. But they did put the fear of God in me if I got pregnant. Did they ever. Both my siblings had children by the time they hit nineteen, but they were determined that wasn’t going to be me.
Melanie is quiet, but she chats with Mom, and I do see her smile every once in a while. The minions are being wrangled by Stacy and Dulcey which does offer some form of entertainment. Especially when they decide to hang spoons on their noses, and then everyone has to do it and there’s a contest to see who can do it the longest.
Sawyer wins.
“I just have a well-shaped nose,” he says and we all laugh. Dessert is Christmas cookies made into ice cream sandwiches. The no chair rule is great when we all collapse from being too full. It’s much easier to do when you’re already on the floor and it’s covered in pillows.
“This has been wonderful, thank you for having us,” Melanie says. Mom pats her on the shoulder.
“You are welcome in our home anytime. You don’t even have to knock.”
“I told you that you shouldn’t have had that last one,” I say to Sawyer as he leans back on the pillows and moans.
“I know you told me, but I chose not to listen.” I lean down next to him. Everyone else is too busy with their own conversations and not paying attention to us.
“See what happens when you don’t listen to me? Bad things.” I prop myself on my elbows and he squints at me.
“Whatever. You never listen to me.” That is crap and he knows it. I smack him with a pillow and he groans.
“Cruel. That is cruel and unusual punishment.”
He closes his eyes and sighs.
“I thought this Christmas was going to be awful. Without Dad, you know. We don’t even have a tree, or any decorations up. Mom got them out, but neither of us wanted to put them up. He used to make a big production about it, and now it doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t feel like Christmas.” I can understand that.
“Well, there’s no law that says you have to celebrate. You’re not going to get arrested by the Christmas Police. Do whatever you want.” He opens his eyes and moves closer to me so our heads are right next to one another.
“I guess.” The memories start flutte
ring again and then Sawyer coughs and turns his attention to the ceiling. Mom asks if anyone wants coffee and all the adults say yes. The minions have finally crashed and are all cuddled together in front of the television.
“We could use some more wood for the fire.” Mom’s voice breaks through all other conversation.
“Not it,” Drew says, raising his hand. He’s had a few too many beers, so it’s probably not a good idea for him to do it anyway.
“I’ll get some,” Sawyer says, getting up.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Mom says, but I see what she’s doing. “Oh, why don’t you take Ivy to help you?” Smooth. Real smooth. I can’t look at her as Sawyer and I get up, put our coats on and go out the back door to the woodshed.
“Subtle, isn’t she?” I say shivering. Sawyer leans against the shed and looks up at the sky. It’s clear and cold and the stars are spread out. That’s another thing I miss. Seeing the stars.
“As a hammer to the face,” he says, laughing, his breath puffing out in clouds.
I join him and our shoulders touch.
“Do you regret it? Moving back?” I probably shouldn’t ask this.
He puts his hands in his pockets and turns his head to meet my eyes.
“Honestly? Sometimes.” He nods. “But I couldn’t stay at school and leave Mom here all alone. I guess I just figured that some things were more important than getting my degree right now.”
“But you could go to school online. Do distance learning so at least you can get some credits done.”
“You’re right. I could. I just feel like I’m so . . . overwhelmed. Dad made it look so easy. There are just so many things to think of in a day and I get home and fall into bed and then I have to get up and do it all over again in the morning. It doesn’t end. I mean, this is the off season, but it’s still crazy.”
“You could hire someone to help.” It seems like they make enough money.
He shrugs.
“I don’t know. That would feel like giving up. I know I told my father that I didn’t want the business, but I never really thought about what it would be like if he wasn’t here. I thought there would be time. Lots of time . . .” he trails off and a tree branch snaps, making me jump.
“We should probably get the wood. It’s cold out here.” It’s nice to talk to him again, even if I’m risking losing my nose to frostbite.
“You’re right.” So we both grab an armful of wood and tramp back to the house. Mom gives me a look, but I ignore it. She and I need to have a chat.
Most of the kids are falling asleep, so Drew and Stacy and their significant others pack them up and head out.
Melanie and Mom chat a little bit and I’m left alone with Sawyer again.
“Am I going to see you tomorrow?” he says.
“If my mother has anything to do with it. I’m sure she’s going to invite you and your mom over.” He rocks back on his heels as if he’s nervous.
“Then I guess I will see you tomorrow.” He gives me a little wave and goes out to start the truck up.
Melanie gives me a hug and a little smile. She looks better than she did a few hours ago.
“See you tomorrow,” Mom calls out the door as they get in Sawyer’s truck. She shuts the door and I cross my arms.
“They have nowhere to go, Ivy. This isn’t all about you and Sawyer.” Well, crap. Make me feel like a bitch.
“I know. I just wish you’d be a little more subtle about trying to push us together.” She just smiles knowingly.
“What would be the fun in that?”
Mom bangs the gong (not literally, but close enough) early the next morning. My body has started to adjust to the later wakeup time of vacation, so it’s a rude awakening.
Both she and Dad have clearly had too much coffee already as they dash around the kitchen, peeling potatoes, roasting pumpkin seeds and chopping fruit for the fruit salad. This is one time when I wish Drew and Stacy still lived at home.
Before I’m even allowed coffee, I’m shoved in front of the apple peeler and told to get to work.
“When is Sawyer bringing over the lobsters?” Dad says as Mom chases a runaway grape.
“Um, this afternoon, I think. So they’re as fresh as possible.” Some people have turkey or a ham on Christmas Eve. We have lobster. This is Maine, after all.
Plus, it gives Sawyer the perfect reason to come over. If he didn’t have one already. Mom is on what I like to call a “Christmas High”. She’s humming along with the “all Christmas, all December!” radio station and she seems lost in her own world. If there’s one thing this woman loves, it’s a holiday, and this is the biggest one.
After I’m finished with the apples, she sends me into the living room to start setting up crafts for when the minions get here. We have bowls of popcorn and cranberries, red and green tissue paper, snowman and wreath cutouts, cotton balls, and a million other things that my mom stores in a big bin in the attic and only brings out once a year. To me, it looks like a disaster waiting to happen, but I’ll go along with it.
I realize I’m not even dressed when Stacy arrives, looking tired and irritated already. Mom hands her a cup of coffee with a nip in it and she thanks her. The kids go right for the crafts, and Mom puts me in charge.
The day passes with crafts and glue on little fingers and lopsided snowmen and munching on roasted pumpkin seeds and lots of “Jingle Bells”. A LOT of “Jingle Bells”. I kind of want to smash the radio, but that wouldn’t be in the Christmas spirit.
Sawyer walks in without knocking and looks down at the snowman I’m making.
“He looks sad.” I look up at him and he sits down next to me on the couch. The minions have abandoned the crafts to throw popcorn in each other’s mouths.
“Maybe he is. He’s melting. Or maybe he’s got seasonal affective disorder because he doesn’t get any sun.” I put the finishing touches on my sad snowman and add him to the pile.
“You bring the lobsters?” He holds up a thick paper bag that is moving, just a little bit. I can hear their little legs and claws scrabbling to get out. Poor things. It must be a horrible way to go, being boiled alive.
“You ever feel bad for them?” I say, pointing to the bag as he sets it back down.
“Most people don’t know where their food comes from. I know. And I know the guy who caught it and that buying these lobsters is going to help him feed his family. So I guess it’s a tradeoff. Besides, I think these guys had a much better life than a cow on a farm that’s going to be slaughtered to make a hamburger.”
Ugh, bad topic.
Mom intervenes and when she notices Sawyer’s here. He holds up the bag of lobsters and she gives him a hug as if he’s her savior.
“Where’s that mother of yours?”
“She’s just finishing up some stuff at home, but she should be here in a few minutes.” Mom takes the lobsters and puts them in the freezer. The idea is to put them into a hypothermic state so it doesn’t suck so much for them when you boil them alive. Nice in theory, but probably not true.
Drew arrives and heads right for the fridge and the beer, and Dulcey and Stacy chat about kids while Sawyer and I go out to get more wood.
“Think we’ll have a white Christmas?” he says, looking up at the cloudy sky. It certainly feels that way. And smells that way.
“My snow senses are tingling,” I say, wiggling my fingers at him. He laughs.
“You and your snow senses. Remember that time sophomore year when you swore, up and down, that it was going to snow, but there was nothing in the weather about it and we made that bet?”
“You mean the bet you lost? I remember every bet you’ve lost,” I say, smirking at him.
“Cockiness doesn’t become you. That’s what my mother always says.” Yeah, my mother says something along the same lines too.
“I like to think of it as confident. Seeing as how I don’t actually have a cock.”
“Thank God.” For some reason, this statement makes
me blush. He knows for a fact that I don’t have one. He’s seen all of me.
“What did you get me?” I say. I’m going to pressure him like this all day until he gives in. He pretends to zip his lips.
“Not until tomorrow.”
No fair.
“You suck, Sawyer McCallister.”
“Only for you, Poison.”
This dinner is a little more formal, which is to say that we eat at the table. There’s a toast and we say grace (even though none of us go to church) and we’re eating off the nice plates. The formality is almost cancelled out by the fact that everyone is wearing lobster bibs and lobster juice is flying everywhere and there’s a huge pile of discarded lobster carcasses in the middle of the table.
I get to sit next to Sawyer and he keeps glancing at me and giving me looks that are making me blush. It must be the wine. Stacy brought a few bottles of cheap red and I’ve had a couple of glasses. My face tends to blush a lot more easily when I’m drinking. I keep glancing at his mom and I can see her watching us.
As soon as dinner is over and coffee is served to the adults, and hot cocoa to the kids, we all retire to the living room to watch It’s a Wonderful Life, another tradition. Mom grabs my arm and shoves me toward the recliner as everyone else takes the couch. There aren’t a whole lot of places to sit, so extra chairs are brought in. I see Mom whisper something to Sawyer and he walks over to me.
“Care to share?” Back in high school, we always used to sit here and cuddle when he came over while my parents were on the couch.
I move over, but there’s only so much room. The only way we can both sit is if I’m half on top of him, which was Mom’s plan all along.
Why doesn’t she just shove the two of us in my room, lock the door and tell us that we’re not allowed out until we’ve re-consummated our relationship? Actually, it wouldn’t shock me if she did that.