While You Were Pretending

Chapter Eight

“Gaily they ring, while people sing, songs of good cheer, Christmas is here. Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas!”

Christmas playlist on, fireplace burning, different snacks spread across the coffee table, the Pullman’s Christmas Eve party is off to a great start. Peyton’s family, my parents, some of our neighbors, some co-workers I recognize from years past… even some of Peyton’s and my friends made it. People filled the decent-sized living room, spilling into the dining room, and some wandered off into the kitchen. The Christmas tree and other décor weren’t the only things making it festive, some of the ladies dressed up and some of the guys in Santa hats.

Everyone off mixing and mingling, snacking, or playing Clue, I’m free to stand just inside the living room. Eye on the door, I’m unabashedly waiting for Jackie to arrive. Her i********: showed her getting ready for tonight, picking out one of the ‘fancy dresses’ Peyton had commented on.

“Yo, Luke!”

I turn to see Charlie waving me over. “Come over here, would ya?”

Weaving through the crowd, I find him next to the fire, phone out, talking to David. “What’s up?”

“David had a couple of questions about Witcher.”

“I watched the show,” he clarifies, “which was badass. I’m wondering if it would be better to read the books or play the games first?”

“Well, the Netflix show is mostly following the books – not exactly but mostly, but Geralt is portrayed almost identically to the in-game character. The thing with the books is that they’re all by the same author, who had nothing to do with the games. But everything that happened in the books, are cannon in the game. The first game is five years after the end of the books.”

Charlie points with his phone, “I just read that there was some sort of agreement with the author and CD Project where they’ve got the okay to make more games.”

I nod, “Which might reflect in the show. Way before they even started filming, the show lead said she already has seven seasons planned. Now with this, who knows.”

“So basically, new Game of Thrones?”

Charlie chuckles, “Without the s**t ending.”

I hear the doorbell ring and my head whips around. By the time I get across the room, Jackie is already hanging her fur-trimmed coat. The ringlets of her long, fair hair sways as she turns around and greets me with a wide smile. In a long, emerald velvet dress, I have to try very hard not to look at the plunging neckline. Overall looking extremely elegant, don’t get me wrong, (but the chest that’d been hiding under thick sweaters and shallow necklines is, well, very noticeable now).

I notice a package in her hand, “What’s all this? More cookies?”

“Oh!” she looks down, “No. I can’t exactly bake in a hotel room,” she giggles. “It’s just a gift for my mom.” She lifts it with a weird jiggle, “Never go anywhere empty-handed.”

Her mom appears from the kitchen. “Jaqueline! Ride from the hotel okay? This whole Uber thing isn’t getting too expensive, is it? I could always send Eric or Peyton to come to get you.”

“Or I could,” I offer without thinking.

Misses Pullman smiles at me, “Always so nice, Luke.” She cups my cheek momentarily, “Such a good man you’ve grown into.”

Jackie holds the gift to her mom. “I brought this for you. Maybe for dinner, as a centerpiece.”

I follow the ladies into the kitchen, Misses P gently puts the box on the counter. With scissors, she carefully opens the seams, then lifts the lid. “Oh! Oh goodness, these are beautiful!”

Jackie helps her unbox the gift. “They’re infinity roses. When I visited California last summer, in San Fran we found this shop – the Grand Fleurs company. They have a natural preservation process that helps the roses last for a year or longer! I have a few different ones at home and so far, so good.”

After getting the white, square box free from the packing, Misses P smells the bouquet of red roses. “They even smell wonderful!”

I nudge Jackie, “Of course you would know of something like this.”

But in her quick look at me, her expression falls. “Why?”

I can imagine Peyton’s comment ‘because you’re so f*****g fancy.’ “Because of your flowers – your Etsy? Preserving nature beautifully, and all.”

“Oh,” she brightens up. “Right.”

We don’t notice when her mom wanders into the other room with the roses, Jackie and I leaning against the kitchen counter. “They can do a dying process, too!” she comments excitedly. “You should see the color options online, pretty much the rainbow. They even paint metallics! I have a single gold one next to my jewelry box; a white circle box with a dome bouquet of pink roses in the bathroom; then a what they call their ‘signature square’ – the same size I gave Mom – in a white box with lavender roses on my nightstand.”

“Do all the boxes look the same?”

“For Grand Fleurs?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty much. I either order the classic white or black. They have fancier ones, etched metal or velvet, but I worry they wouldn’t match anything I have.”

“Well, if you ever want a sleeve, I bet it would be pretty easy to build a box it would slip right into.”

She smiles but before she can say her thought, Peyton calls for me. Hand hard on the edge of the wall, she peers into the kitchen. “Com’on,” but then she eyes her sister and when she looks back to me says “babe,” slowly. “We’re doing another round of Clue.”

Jackie lifts from the counter the same time I do, “Oh, I love Clue.”

Her sister glares, “All the characters are taken,” and she exits the room.

*

Sometime after the pizza was devoured and there wasn’t a single sweet treat left in the house, the idea of getting pictures in front of the tree spread like wildfire. Friends, families, silly, serious, that’s the glory of digital pictures. Holding Misses Pullman’s phone, I center them. “Alright, you guys ready?”

She waves for her other daughter, “Com’on.”

Standing next to me, she’s hesitant. “You sure?”

Her mom waves again, a huge smile on her face. “Com’on, Jacqueline, right next to me, then.”

Her steps are small, “‘Jackie’ is okay, too.”

Peyton makes a face. “Really, since when?”

But her mom swats her arms. “Alright, Luke, we’re all set.”

*

Peyton groans and she shoves herself through another sleep sweatshirt. “What is with her?”

I don’t look up from my phone, “Hm?”

“She made a whole big stink about going by her full name, posted some melodramatic ‘it’s more mature’ post on her Tumblr, and changed all her profiles to it – and now it’s ‘okay,’” she used finger quotes. Then, sitting on the edge of her bed, she takes her socks off. “And did you see those roses? I looked them up, you know, and they cost, like, two hundred dollars. She’s trying to f*****g buy our love.”

Still with my head down, I roll my eyes.

I hear her unmaking her bed. “It’s just….” But she doesn’t continue. Instead, she asks, “Are you sure you have to go home? I know Eric has his brother in the den, but my bed’s big enough.”

I check the time on my phone, fifteen minutes till midnight. I stand, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah, and I should probably head out. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

She looks to her watch, “Fifteen minutes – oh! Com’on, at least stay until midnight!” She smiles wide and pats the bed next to her, “We can start Christmas off right.”

I kiss her hair and hug her against my side. “I’ll see you tomorrow after dinner.” I get to the door before she can protest too much. “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

The house is completely silent as I move through it and I try to keep it that way. I’m quick to buddle up and pull on my boots, quick to get outside and lock the door behind me. Frosty air cuts against my lungs, so much for it being warm this week. The street has a fresh blanket of snow, little flakes falling from nowhere, but somehow disappearing before they get to me.

I check my watch, eleven-fifty-nine. I stop in the middle of the street, my weight sinking my feet into the snow. Eyes closed, my body still, I welcome the moment of peace.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Let my heart slow, let my mind go.

Slowly I open my eyes back up, admiring this stolen moment. A part of me wants to take a picture with my phone… but a bigger part says to leave it. Just enjoy it, just remember it. Having this moment for myself…. Black skies with a handful of twinkling stars. Golden light barely reaching from the lamps periodically placed down the street. Glorious, fluffy snow absorbing all sound.

Maybe seconds have passed, maybe minutes, and I tug my boots up to finish my walk home. From the front door, I can see the above-the-stove light on and when I close the door, I hear a “shhh.” My mom peeks over from the kitchen, “Jackie’s sleeping.”

My brows furrow and as I take my boots off, I ask, “What?” as softly as I can.

She points into the living room. “She’s on the couch.”

I look, indeed seeing a lump of blanket on the couch and a waterfall of golden hair. In the kitchen, I turn back to Mom. “Why?”

“Eric’s brother and sister-in-law took the den, their son took the couch,” she explained though I still didn’t follow. She turned to me at the foot of the stairs, “Jackie’s expected in the morning and I figured it is easier for her to be down the street instead of across town.” Plus, it would probably be impossible to get an Uber. “Anyway, just don’t wake her, okay? She seems exhausted.”

I nod and wait for my mother to get all the way upstairs before looking into the living room again. Jackie is curled into the couch, probably away from the light of the still-lit Christmas tree. Just far enough into the room, I click the switch off.

The light from the kitchen is just enough for me to get to the stairs. Halfway up the stairs, I hear a soft, “Good night, Luke.”

I pause, “Good night, Jackie,” before rushing up to my room.