Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Four Christmases by Nell Iris-4

2016

This Christmas is like every other Whipple Christmas. The snow that was absent last year is back with a vengeance and I had to start the day by shoveling Granny out of her house when I picked her up to go to my parents’ early this morning. The house smells of Mom’s cooking. Dad is happy to have everyone under the same roof; he attack-hugs whoever he sees. Dylan can’t sit still if his life depended on it and is out for a walk. Emily spends most of her time running after Merry—who’s grown up to be a category five hurricane on legs—and Emily’s husband Rob had to leave for the hospital as usual; I think he’s on call twenty-four seven. And even though Mom put less bourbon in the eggnog this year, Granny still managed to reach the sing-from-the-top-of-her-voice level of tipsiness and is entertaining all of us as usual.

Everything is normal.

Except me.

I’m cooped up in the guestroom, not hiding since I have a two-year old sleeping on my chest. Merry curled up in my lap a little while ago, after storming around the house for what felt like hours, and promptly fell asleep. Emily told me to put her down in the guest bed for her nap so Granny wouldn’t wake her up with her singing.

But when I got in here, I didn’t want to leave her by herself, so I climbed onto the bed, leaned against the headboard and stretched out my legs, and let her keep using me as a mattress. Her ear is resting right on top of my heart, her tiny hand tucked under her cheek, making her look like an angel with red roses on her cheeks and her dark, wild hair falling over her forehead.

Gently, I stroke her back with one hand, as I look at a picture on my phone with the other.

It’s Poe, wearing a Santa hat and a wide grin. His eyes twinkle and his cheeks are red as though he’s spent time outside in the snow.

Miss you. Wish you were here, the attached message reads.

I sigh, click off the screen, and slide the phone into my pocket.

Everything is the same and yet everything is different.

The door opens just enough for Emily to sneak inside. She closes it behind her, and whispers, “I knew you’d take the opportunity to hide.” She sweeps away a strand of hair from Merry’s forehead, brushes a tender kiss to her temple, then sits next to me on the bed.

She lays her head on my shoulder. “I love our family and I love Christmas, but sometimes I need a moment of silence.” She keeps her voice low so she won’t wake Merry.

I nod. “Yeah.” But it’s not silent, not really. The sounds from downstairs are muted, but audible. Dad and Granny are laughing. A slam of the door followed by a holler tells me Dylan is back. Christmas carols are playing on the radio in the kitchen, the only company Mom wants when she’s cooking. Familiar, dear noises, but not silence.

Emily nudges my shoulder with hers. “Soooo, when will we meet the new man of yours, brother?”

I lean back my head and sigh, wishing for a second she hadn’t found me. She’s like a dog with a bone about Poe, and my refusal to tell any of them—even her—about him drives her nuts.

“Not now, Ems,” I whisper and tilt my head in the direction of her sleeping daughter, hoping she’ll take the hint.

But she doesn’t. “If you’d just tell me his name, I’d back off.” I hear the unspoken “for now” as she flutters her eyelashes and pushes out her lower lip in her famous pout she patented when she was five.

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

“But you always tell me everything.”

I keep silent. We’ve had this conversation several times since she figured out I’m seeing someone and that we’re serious. When I refused to answer her questions about him, she informed the family that “Auden has a new secret boyfriend he won’t tell me about,” hoping that would make me open my mouth and spill.

Mom lectured her, saying that twenty-six-year-olds should know better than to blab about things that weren’t theirs to share, but Dad sided with Emily—Daddy’s little princess has him wound around her little finger—and pushed me for information. That Sunday dinner was very uncomfortable.

Emily interrupts my thoughts. “Is he in the closet? Is that why you’re not allowed to tell us about him.”

“No!” I say, too loud, making Merry squirm on my chest, but her eyes stay closed. “That’s not it at all. And he hasn’t forbidden me to tell you about him. It’s my choice.”

Ugh, maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say and Emily’s reaction confirms it. She rears back as though I’ve slapped her.

“You choose not to tell us?” Her light blue eyes are wide with hurt, and a flutter of guilt makes itself known in my belly. “So…what? We’re not trustworthy anymore?”

“That’s not what I meant. You know I trust you.”

She climbs off the bed and shakes her head. “I thought I did.” Then she spins around and hastens out of the room, ignoring me when I whisper-call her name.

I hide my face in Merry’s untamable hair and inhale her scent, letting it soothe me. After pulling out my phone, I look at Poe’s picture again, then I write a message.

I miss you, too.

I do. So much. I feel like a part of me is missing.

Poe is the thing that’s different about Christmas this year, his absence making the day not seem quite right because I’m not spending it with him.

But it’s my own darned fault.

I want to be with him for the rest of my life; I’m certain of it. But the feud between our families is like an enormous roadblock between us and happiness, and I don’t know how to tell my family. Every time I think about it, my stomach fills with twisty, painful knots, my heart starts racing, and it grows hard to breathe. I have nightmares of me telling them and them rejecting me for my choice of partner.

It’s stupid and irrational but I don’t know how to get over it. I’m stuck in limbo and have no idea how to overcome the unreasonable feelings that threaten to choke me every time I think of telling them about Poe.

They’re all my fears, not Poe’s. He’s said from the start that we’ll go public about us the second I want to, but I…can’t. I worry that my family won’t accept him because of what happened, and because their deep-rooted instinct is to protect me from every real or perceived threat to me.

And I don’t want to be forced to choose between him and them.

Poe would willingly step back if he thought his presence in my life would hurt me. But what if Dad doesn’t approve of him? Or Dylan? What if Emily—my partner in crime and best friend—doesn’t? What if they won’t forgive him—even though he wasn’t a part of the fight and not even present when it happened?

They wouldn’t make me choose in so many words, but an open disapproval toward my partner would make me feel like I would have to pick sides. I can’t imagine my life without my family, but would they still be the people I thought they were if something like that happened? Would their disapproval push me away and make it impossible to trust them?

The worries have made me skittish and evasive because people can’t object to what they don’t know. I despise myself for it. All that bluster about refusing to hide who I am, and now that’s pretty much what I’m doing, and by my own free will. I might as well have handed in my gay card, crawled into the closet, and nailed it shut.

In theory, it’s easy. Just opening my mouth and revealing the name of my partner shouldn’t be hard. They’re a supportive bunch, and I have yet to find something they don’t approve of. But what if this is the first time?

It’s not like the Eldins are a constant topic of conversation. There’s no violence or even foul language whenever we encounter each other, but the cold glares make Antarctica seem warm in comparison. And I know my family haven’t forgotten—or forgiven—what was said about me that day.

The phone buzzing in my hand interrupts my spinning thoughts. It’s another text from Poe.

Are you having a good time?

I start typing an affirmative answer but regret it and delete it. I don’t want to lie to him, but I don’t want to make him worry either. Or ruin his Christmas.

I ponder my reply as I look out the window and watch the snowfall. The precipitation is so thick I can’t even see the huge maple tree that’s only a few feet away. It’s usually so beautiful covered in snow, and I imagine the branches being weighed down by their burdensome load.

I’ve always loved the quietness of the world after a heavy snowfall. As though the universe covered the landscape with a fluffy white blanket, muting all sounds, making the world a calmer place for a little while.

Too bad the snow is unable to muffle my swirling thoughts.

When I sigh, Merry’s head shoots up and she looks at me with wide happy eyes. “Not sleepy,” she says and pats my chest with her palm before squirming off my lap, slithering down from the bed, and running out of the room as though she didn’t just wake up. I’m jealous of her seemingly endless supply of energy and how she’s rested and energized from the moment she opens her eyes, ready for whatever the world throws at her.

When did I lose that? Did I ever have it, or was I always the quiet, artistic thinker?

I shake my head and get off the bed, ready to rejoin the celebration, but I change my mind and walk to the window instead.

This close, I can see the ghostly outline of the maple tree, and it’s just as laden with snow as I imagined, branches bending so much I fear they’ll snap right off. No one, man or critter, has walked across the back lawn, and the snow is pristine and untouched, like a white ocean on a dead calm night.

I wake up my phone and stare at Poe’s message.

“No,” I type, and press SEND before I can change my mind.

The intense whiteness outside doesn’t help the turmoil in my heart and it makes me miss Poe even more. Maybe next year we can rent a cabin somewhere, deep in the forest without cell reception so no one can reach us. We can spend the day together in front of a fireplace, drinking hot chocolate and touching and kissing, not worrying about family feuds interfering with the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

But that’s a pipe dream. There would be a riot in the Whipple clan if I bailed on Christmas, and it wouldn’t feel right without Merry anyway.

My phone buzzes repeatedly, and I answer without looking at the screen. Only one person would call me now.

“Hi,” I say, voice a little wobbly.

“Hey, honey. Am I calling at a bad time?” Poe’s concern winds itself around my heart, muting my worries like the snow in the garden.

“No. Never.” I lay my fingers against the cold glass of the window, feeling a little closer to him. He’s just over there, behind the maple tree, over the fence, and past the shrubbery Mr. Eldin planted after the fight.

“What’s wrong?” There’s no noise in the background at his end, so he’s probably shut himself into his old room in the attic to talk to me, and I appreciate the thought. I need his undivided attention, if only for a few minutes.

“I miss you,” I say.

“I miss you, too. I can’t wait until tomorrow morning.”

“Me either.”

Tomorrow is the anniversary of our first date, and we decided to repeat it at the same time and place; eight thirty at the rundown mom-and-pop restaurant in Riverwoods. To make sure we’d sit at the same table, Poe called and made a reservation. The person answering the phone burst out laughing, saying it was their first ever reservation, but promised he’d make it happen.

We agreed to not buy each other gifts, but I have to give him something, so I drew a picture of us, modelled on a selfie we took after our first date. When we were saying goodbye, I asked if I could snap a picture of the two of us, and he agreed. Just as I took it, he kissed my cheek, and my eyes shine with surprise and delight. I didn’t want to draw us in front of the shabby-looking restaurant, so instead, I placed us in the clearing by the stream where we met and made the landscape blanketed in a thick layer of snow just like I imagine it looks right now.

He’ll love it; it’s got a fairytale-y, otherworldly feeling to it in the style of one of the book covers I illustrated that Poe adores.

I sigh and let my eyes fall closed. “I want to tell them about you,” I whisper. “But I’m not brave enough.”

“Oh, honey. You don’t need to worry. Your family loves you and wants you to be happy. I’m sure they’ll accept me as your partner, given time.”

I swallow around the burning lump growing in my throat. “What if they don’t?”

“If everything you’ve told me about them is true, they will. I might never become their favorite son-in-law, but they won’t turn their backs on you. You know this, if you just let yourself relax and think.”

“I just…don’t want to lose either of you.”

“You won’t. If you need space to figure things out, I’ll step back for a while. But I’m not giving you up unless you tell me you don’t want me around anymore.”

Tension drains from my shoulders, and I lean my forehead against the glass. “Promise?” I mumble, not caring if I sound like an insecure five-year-old.

“I promise.” No hesitation. Just warmth and fondness and that darned rumble in his chest that weakens my knees every time. “Talk to Emily. You always say she can get the others to agree to anything, so make sure you’ve got her in your corner and half the fight is won.”

“Okay.” I straighten my back and square my shoulders, determined to stop behaving like a scared rabbit, ready to flee at the slightest fright. It’s stupid. When has my family ever given me reason to doubt them? “Thanks for the pep talk. I needed it.”

“Anytime. I love you.”

I’ll never get enough of those three little words; they plant themselves in my heart and grow and grow until they fill every nook and cranny of my being. “I love you, too. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” He ends the call, and I let my arm fall to the side. He always makes me feel better. Now I need to find my sister before I lose my nerve again.

Arms winding around my waist startle me and my eyes fly open.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, Auden,” Emily says, and rests her cheek between my shoulder blades. “Truly, I didn’t. Mom sent me to get you, but I should have waited outside until you were done.”

I slide my phone into my pocket and rest my hands on top of hers, caressing her thin, strong fingers. “It’s all right.”

I feel her shaking her head. “No. I was going to apologize for overreacting and instead I made it worse by listening to your private conversation. I’m so sorry.”

Remorse and regret flow off her in waves and I want to reassure her. Gently, I turn in her embrace, wrap my arms around her, and press her cheek against my chest, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “I forgive you, Emsy.”

“I can tell you really love him, whoever he is. I swear I’ll get off your case, because hearing that you’re scared to tell us breaks my f*****g heart, Auden. Tell us when you’re ready.” She squeezes me hard, and when she tilts back her head and looks up at me, her eyes are shiny, as though she’s on the verge of crying. That startles me. She never cries, not even when she was four and fell off her bike, scraping both her knees and most of her left shin. She just stood, led her bike to the house, and calmly told Mom, “I have blood.” She didn’t whine or make a sound when Mom cleaned and bandaged it. My sister is a badass, but clearly even badasses cry on occasion.

I brush away a strand of black hair from her forehead and give her a warm smile. Poe is right. As long as I have her on my side, I’ll be fine. “Emily.”

“Yes?”

“It’s Porter. Porter Eldin.”

She blinks once, then again, as though she didn’t hear me, as though she doesn’t understand who I’m talking about. Then she stiffens in my arms. “Eldin?” Her voice is tight, as though she’s reining herself in to not explode.

“Yes.”

“As in our neighbors, Eldin?”

“Yes.”

“Porter Eldin is gay?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, my God.” She groans and buries her face in my chest.

I tug at her ponytail. “Look at me.”

It takes a few seconds, but she honors my request. She’s stiff, and her face is closed off, but at least she’s looking at me. “He told me what happened all those years ago. None of you ever did, and I understand why. But he told me. He’s honest and great and genuine. And he wasn’t there when it happened.”

“No, but—”

“No buts, Emily. He was sixteen. You can’t expect him to stand up to his family at that age, especially not when they’re as hateful as his father and brother.”

“No, but…what about now? He has no right to keep you in the closet!”

“He doesn’t! You heard our conversation, at least my part of it. He’s encouraging me to tell you. I’m the one holding back. Poe says I should tell you, because if I convince you, the others will follow. I’m just scared you won’t accept him and that I’ll be forced to choose.”

“Oh, Auden. No.”

I look away. “My feelings aren’t rational, I know that. But on the other hand, none of you like the Eldins. You’ve made it very clear that they’ve done something unforgivable in your eyes.”

She sighs and wiggles out of my grip, takes my hand, and pulls me to the bed, where she sits. A glance at first me, then the bed, tells me what she wants, and I join her.

“I’m not thrilled about this. No, listen,” she says when my shoulders slump, “I won’t lie to you. Like I said, I’m not thrilled, but I won’t interfere. I won’t make you choose.”

“Poe didn’t do anything.”

“I know. I believe you. But if you’re Porter’s partner, his family will be your in-laws. His father says the vilest things and I don’t want them to hurt you. I don’t want anyone to say those kinds of things to you, but especially not a man who had no qualms berating a fifteen-year-old. You can’t blame me for wanting better than that for you.”

“They’ve never said anything to me directly,” I mutter, knowing it’s an idiotic weak excuse I never would have uttered if I hadn’t been head-over-heels for their son.

“Oh, Auden.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “You never notice anything because your head is always in the clouds or focused on your art. But I’ve seen them look at you. I’ve seen the oldest brother spit after you behind your back, for f**k’s sake.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

“Yeah. And the only reason they’re not saying anything out loud is that Dad threatened to call the police and report a hate crime. You tell me how we’re supposed to forgive and forget something like that!”

My breath whooshes out of me and I rest my forearms on my thighs, hanging my head. “Poor Poe.”

“Poor Poe?”

I recognize that tone of voice; that’s my sister gearing up for a rant of epic proportions, so I straighten and hold up my hand to stop her before she can get started. “He’s gay. They’re his family. Can you imagine what it must be like to be Porter Eldin, surrounded by all that hate? Stop being so blinded by his last name for one second and think.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Yeah. Of course. I didn’t think of that.”

“I have all of you, but all he has is his mom, and the only time she ever stood up to his dad was when he tried to throw Poe out of the house when he came out to them.”

“If they threatened to throw him out, why is he there now? Why not say ‘f**k it’ and turn his back on them?”

“Don’t be stupid. They’re his family. You don’t stop loving your family just because they’re idiots.”

“I don’t know,” she mutters.

“Maybe it would be easier if his mom wasn’t in the picture. But she is. And he loves her.”

She nods with reluctance, always unwilling to admit someone else might be right for once.

“Besides, he only ever visits the house for Christmas, and only because his mom insists.”

“What a mess.” She doesn’t sound all that sympathetic, and it irks me. I need to make her see my point.

I can’t keep the slight annoyance from my voice. “Not really. And it’s his choice whether to have a relationship with them or not. No one can decide that for him. He needs support from the important people in his life, not condemnation for refusing to disrespect his mom.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Maybe not. But not everyone has a family like ours.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” she asks, but all fight is gone from her voice. Her face loses all color and her mouth turns downward. “Crap, Auden.” She rests her forehead against my shoulder.

“Yeah.”

We sit in silence for a while, her hand clasping mine, her breathing noisy and shallow. Then she straightens and looks at me. “Is he worth it?”

My reply comes out as a happy sigh. “Yes.”

“Okay then.” She gives me a hard squeeze before getting to her feet.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that if he’s worth it, if you love him, we go out there and tell the fam.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

A kaleidoscope of thousands of butterflies takes flight in my belly, some of them trying to escape up my throat. When Emily grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet, my knees are wobbly and slam together.

“Don’t worry.” She runs her fingers through my hair, messing it up, then cups my check. Her blue eyes, pale and icy and so much like my own, overflow with care and determination. “You have me in your corner. You’ll be fine.”

You’ll be fine.

Easy for her to say.