While You Were Pretending

Chapter One

“I love how this is supposed to be a family affair and we always get stuck decorating the whole tree by ourselves,” Peyton laughs.

On a tiny, wooden stepladder, I’m curled around her family’s tree, trying to finish stringing the last of the lights. “It’s a bit of tradition now, don’t you think?”

Knees sinking into the ancient carpet, she peels the plastic lid off a tub of random ornaments, and she shrugs, “I just thought this year might be different.”

After plugging in the last strand, I look at her before climbing down. “Why? Because we’re in college now?”

Though she wouldn’t admit it, she’s looking for a very particular ornament to put on the tree first, believing it would bring luck. Opening the second bin, she still can’t find it. “Well, yeah! We went off the college this year and we’re back for the holidays. Surely that would mean our time home is more valuable.”

I tousle her dirty blonde hair before sitting on the brand-new sofa. Missing the squish of the old one, it takes me a moment to get comfortable. “You’d hate if your family was up your a*s, twenty-four-seven.”

But she laughs, her shoulders easing. “You’re not wrong.”

Sunshine is still streaming through the bay windows, even though we’re getting into the afternoon; a lucky day of blue skies and slightly warmer weather. The weeks’ worth of snow is mostly melted, but it’s still cold enough to enjoy a fire. It seems like we might have a white Christmas this year, after all.

“Still want to order Mister Wong’s?” I ask after looking at my watch.

Peyton still hasn’t found the ornament. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

Slowly scrolling through my contacts, I figure we’re going to order our usual. “Why don’t you pick a different ornament?”

Suddenly there’s a small gasp and I look down at her. She holds shattered pieces of ceramic in her palm, “Fuck.”

Examining the tragedy, I can tell it’s not super-glue-able. “Damn….”

In typical Peyton fashion, where showing emotions is a crime, she simply shakes her head. “Guess we’ll have to pick a new ornament after all,” but the way she says it sounds like it’s a curse on both our houses.

*

Misses Pullman, who I will never call Midge no matter how much she asks, leans against the counter while picking at leftover chow mein. Even though over the years, her blonde hair has turned white, her smile wrinkles have deepened, her clothes have filled out a little more, she is still the same second-mom she’s always been. Treating me like the son she’s never had, Peyton and I can tell she still hopes we’ll get together.

“One of these days you’ll be getting your own place and you’ll have to decorate it all on your own.”

Opening another can of Coke, Peyton shoots me a look, “Shouldn’t be too bad, we’re practically pros.”

I chuckle and c***k open a fortune cookie. “Between here and my house, we’ve got ten years' worth of experience.”

Peyton slips into the chair across from me, “At least.”

Neither of us looks up when her step-brother asks, “Can I finished the Chinese food?”

Knowing well enough by now I’ve already wrapped my leftovers and have them sitting in front of me on the table. Peyton, knowing better than to argue with her mom around, replies, “All yours.”

Varsity football captain, Joey is a huge dude, hence all the eating. And he is one of the negatives of coming home for Christmas. We joke that he’s going to do something stupid on his eighteenth birthday and spend the rest of adulthood on probation, but that reality of that isn’t actually that funny. I try to be the voice of reason, having no siblings of my own, but Peyton doesn’t care.

Coming around to the table with whatever scraps he could get, he does an up-nod to me, “Hey, Luke.”

“Hey, Joey.”

“Didn’t realize you’d be coming home with Pey.”

“Same school, same winter break, was easy enough to catch the same train.”

Mouth full, he speaks anyway, “How is it? Are college girls really that awesome? I can’t wait until next year.”

I purposefully get preoccupied with memes, “Wouldn’t know, haven’t dated anyone.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Tragic.”

But then I can’t stop myself, “My education is more important, Joey. I kept straight A’s this semester, that’s a four-point-oh. If I had gotten one B that would have dropped my GPA down and would have taken two semesters of straight A’s to get back. There are significantly more important things to worry about than parties and girls and whatever else stupid s**t you’re so fascinated by.”

I lift from my chair and give an apologetic look to Misses Pullman. Peyton stands with me, both physically and metaphorically, “He’s right, Joey; you need to get your priorities straight.” She kisses her mom on the cheek, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”