Merry H*-Mas
Chapter 1
one
T aking the stairs two at a time, as quietly as I can on these old, rickety steps, I pause on the landing, loosening the belt of my black trench coat for easy removal. The faux fur lining the naughty Mrs. Claus lingerie peeks from the top. I draw in a deep breath, excited nerves bubbling through my body.
This last semester has been a nightmare of long nights and endless study sessions while cramming for finals. I know I’ve pushed our relationship to the back burner, but that’s how things go sometimes with long-distance relationships. Especially when only one of you went away to school, and the other decided to stay cooped up in your tiny hometown.
My fingers latch around the cold nob of his bedroom door, giving it a quick twist and push.
“Surprise! Merry Christ—” The words die in my throat.
Chad jackknifes off the bed. The tiny brunette, I recognize from his work, takes a second to grasp the situation before she stops riding his cock and draws the sheet up to cover her small tits.
“Dakota? What are you doing here?” Chad bites out like I’m the problem right now.
The shock dissipates, and as much as I’d love to go grab a handful of the little skank's dark curls and slam her head into the headboard, I also don’t feel like spending my winter vacation catching a charge for aggravated assault.
My feet understand the drill and get my body moving quickly down the stairs to the front door when his rushed footfalls clamber down behind me.
“Dakota, wait. Please, baby, it’s not what it looks like.”
Flinging the front door open, my eyes sting as a wall of frosty air hits my skin. The sensation only adds to the well of tears I’m desperately trying to keep from falling.
His hand comes down on my shoulder, halting my escape. It’s the last straw in my semi-composure. Swinging around, my arms fly up in the air, ridding me of his touch.
“You have some fucking nerve, trying to gaslight me into thinking some twat on your cock isn’t what my eyes saw up there.”
“It didn’t mean anything. I swear. We don’t even really know each other.”
“Well, that’s just a bald-faced lie.” A voice comes from halfway up the stairs.
Chad’s head swings in her direction, his shoulders deflating in what I can only assume is the defeat finally settling in.
“Nice,” I spit, the sarcasm dripping like thick molasses. “So, you had enough respect for her to tell her about me but not enough for your girlfriend of five years. Got it. I hope you two enjoy each other.”
“Dakota, let’s just talk about this. You don’t know what it’s been like for me this year.”
“Oh my god, Chad! Save your pathetic excuses. We’re fucking done. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Forget the last five years happened. I know I will.”
With that, the performance of my life comes to an end. I should bow and wait for applause from the imaginary audience I wish was here to see this. Instead, I turn on my heels and book it across the wet path to my car waiting on the street.
“Oh honey, you’re home early! I wasn’t expecting you until later.” My sweet mother calls from somewhere off in the house, getting closer by the sounds of her footsteps.
I wipe at my tear-stained cheeks, but there’s no way to hide the ridiculous tracks of mascara or my red eyes from bawling on my way home. I might have put up a good front at Chad’s, but when my car turned the corner off his street, the floodgates opened and didn’t stop. At one point, I thought I was going to have to pull over for fear that I might crash from not being able to see clearly.
“Was Chad not home?” she asks.
Stopping halfway up the stairs to my childhood bedroom I’m making an escape to, I turn, not wanting to ignore the woman who has always been there for me.
One look, and she knows. Her face falls, but just as quickly, it screws up like a steam engine ready to blow. “What did that little, good-for-nothing prick do?”
My mother had always tolerated Chad. In high school, that was easy. He was never deep into his studies like me, but he wasn’t flunking out. He hung out with a good crowd, not popular but not a loner. But when I looked into colleges, excited for what the future would bring, he was set to work the same job he had all through high school.
It wasn’t because he wouldn’t get accepted or his parents couldn’t afford it. He simply didn’t want to spend an extra four years studying. That’s when things went downhill for her. She begged me to end things when I went off to WSU. Told me I’d be missing out on the real college experience if I didn’t get to meet new people and date while there.
I always thought it was more because she and my dad met in college and made it for the long haul. It was dawning on me that she might have seen this coming all along.
My shoulders heave with my exaggerated breath. “We broke up, and there is absolutely no chance that I will ever get back together with him.”
Her eyes narrow as she takes me in, reading me like any mother would be able to. “Good. Go upstairs and change. Wash your face, then come down to the kitchen. You can help me finish packing to hit the road later.”
And like I didn’t just waltz in here with my world crashing around me and everything I thought was true being dismantled in one swift movement, I’m set back on my axis.
I decide a long shower is exactly what I need. It isn’t as if I’ve done anything wrong, yet my skin still crawls like I’m dirty. Stepping out of the steaming enclosure, my face feels smooth from the coat of makeup being washed away. I wrap my long blonde hair into a clip at the top of my head and throw on a pair of flannel pjs and a tank top before heading down to the kitchen.
A warm mug sits on the counter, waiting for me. Mom flitters around the kitchen, adding stuff to reusable bags and a couple of boxes.
I choke on the first sip, sputtering the cocoa back into the mug. “Mom!”
“What?” She pops up from where she’s been searching for something in a lower cabinet.
“It’s eleven thirty in the morning. Don’t you think it’s too early for hot cocoa with peppermint schnapps?”
“Uhm, time is irrelevant on Christmas vacation, baby. Your dad's at work, finishing up some last-minute things that couldn’t wait for the new year, and I’m just about done here in the kitchen.”
“Mom, that’s not an answer.”
“Are you going to be like this the entire trip to the cabin? I much prefer my carefree sunshine of a daughter to this,” her finger wags at me in a circle, “goody two-shoes impersonating her.”
“I can’t with you.” I pause, looking around the kitchen and walking over to the bottles. “Fine, but I’m not drinking by myself,” I tell her, holding up the problem in question.
She waves me off, grabbing another mug I couldn’t see behind the shopping bags. “I’m already ahead of you. Now, come help me get all the Christmas presents together. I have to remember where I hid them all.”
“You’re still hiding Christmas presents? From whom?”
“Your dad. He’s worse than you ever were when it comes to what I get him for Christmas.”
My boisterous laughter fills the room as I follow her around the house. She pulls packages big and small from the most obscure places. A few are even tucked in the laundry room in a basket with a small pile of dirty clothes.
“Seriously?”
“He’s terrible.”
“Who’s terrible.” The deep voice comes from the doorway, and we spin in sync. Our matched surprised gasps, giving my dad something to laugh about.
He takes us in, noticing the haul of wrapped gifts in each of our arms. “Really? The laundry room?”
“Well, you didn’t find them, did you?” she sasses back, popping up on her toes to give him a quick kiss on his cheek before sauntering away with her treasure.
My parents have always been very into PDA. Nothing more than PG-13, but growing up around it made me realize how many of my friends’ parents didn’t show their partners any affection. I’d assume it’s where I got my healthy look at intimacy. Well, that and the very extensive talks we had growing up, where nothing was off the table.
“Hey peanut, you ready to head for the cabin?” my dad asks, grabbing the gifts from my arms to follow my mom.
“Yes. I’m ready to get back to the snow, hit the slopes, and see Oma. Is she up there already?”
“She is. Didn’t want to wait for me. Got up there a couple of days ago. You know how she is. She’s getting everything aired out and cleaned up before we can help her do it.”
I need this even more than I did yesterday. I thought I would be decompressing from the last month of cramming. Turns out, I’ll be multitasking and doing my best to forget that fuckface Chad. I can do it. Nothing a little Christmas spirit and eggnog can’t help.