Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
For the first time in his life, he knew that he was worthy.
He felt it. He hadn’t liked himself when he was growing up.
But he liked who he was these days, loved himself even, which felt odd but true.
Maybe that was what was missing until now.
In order to truly love another, you had to love yourself.
A dozen different therapists and counselors from foster care and juvenile detention had told him that over the years, but they were just words that suddenly rang true as he sat here with Buster.
And he’d never believe the lie that he wasn’t good enough ever again.
Early the next morning, Hollis’s phone woke him up. A thousand things ran through his head before he even glanced at his screen. A list of the possibilities of who could be trying to message him.
Maybe it was Mallory.
Or Pop.
Instead, Hollis noticed Dr. Lynch’s name on his screen. He connected the call and quickly held the phone to his ear, hoping it was good news. Last he heard, Duke was out of the woods, but life had taught him that things flipped on a dime. “Hello? How’s Duke?”
“That’s why I’m calling you.” Dr. Lynch’s voice was cheerful, which gave Hollis hope. “Duke had a great night, and I think he’s ready to go home. If you’re ready for him to come back, that is.” The veterinarian knew Hollis was ready. In fact, Hollis never wanted to be without his dog ever again.
Hollis sat up quickly on the edge of his bed and was already pulling on a pair of jeans. “I’ll be there as soon as the clinic opens.”
“We don’t technically open until eight, but message me when you get here and I’ll open the door for you. I don’t want to delay the happy reunion any longer. Consider it my Christmas present to you.” She laughed quietly.
They said good-bye, and Hollis disconnected the call. Christmas present, he thought realizing that he hadn’t bought even one gift for anyone, and the holiday was only three days away. Granted it’d been a busy month, but how had he been so negligent?
He needed presents for Sandy, Matt, Evan, and Savannah. He also needed one for Mallory, which she might just throw in his face. Buster thumped his tail on the floor, demanding his attention. “You get a present too. And Duke.”
Hollis quickly brushed his teeth and ran a comb through his hair. Then he put Buster in his crate and headed out the door on his way to Dr. Lynch’s clinic. As soon as he parked in the veterinarian’s lot, he texted, and she unlocked the door for him.
“Come on in. Duke is eager to see you.”
Hollis wasn’t sure what to expect as he walked down the hall to the kennels, but as he stepped inside the room, Duke rose to his feet and let out a happy bark.
“Well, hello to you too.” Hollis reached out to run his hand through his dog’s fur and scratched behind his ear.
“I enjoyed the play last night,” Dr. Lynch told Hollis as he opened the crate and pulled Duke into his arms.
“You were there?” Hollis asked.
“I never miss the holiday play. Even when I was in college, I would come home to Bloom every Christmas just to watch the show. It just didn’t feel like the holidays without Santa, Baby on my calendar.”
Hollis understood exactly what she meant.
“I was a little worried that it might not be the same without Nan at the helm, but Mallory did a fantastic job, in my opinion.”
Hollis wasn’t sure if Dr. Lynch knew he and Mallory were dating.
Were. Past tense. He was pretty sure whatever they’d had was over.
“Thank you, Dr. Lynch. For everything,” he said one more time.
“I know it’s late in the season, but if you need a tree, let me know.
You can pick out any tree on the lot, and I’ll deliver it myself. ”
Dr. Lynch looked thoughtful as she tilted her head to the side. “Actually, I don’t have a Christmas tree yet.”
“No? Why not?”
The vet shrugged her narrow shoulders. “My boyfriend and I just broke up, and he’s the only reason I was in Bloom to begin with.
” She lowered her gaze and shrugged. “We broke up right after Thanksgiving, so we didn’t even get a Christmas tree, and I haven’t really felt the Christmas spirit.
At least until now. I have to say, seeing Duke recover and attending Santa, Baby last night has cheered me up. ”
“Well, I meant what I said. Come to the farm and pick out any tree you want. I’ll deliver it myself.”
“What’s the point with only a few days left before Christmas?” the veterinarian asked.
“The point is that there’s always something to be grateful for. There’s always a bright spot even in the darkness. Pop says that,” Hollis told her. “Even when the skies are dark, there’s always the North Star to guide you. I used to think it was cheesy, but now”—he shrugged—“not so much.”
“We’ll see,” Dr. Lynch said. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.”
As Hollis stepped out of the clinic with Duke on a leash, he wondered if Mallory was feeling the same sadness that Dr. Lynch was. A breakup at Christmas stung. He and Mallory had never actually made things official, so maybe it didn’t hurt as much for her. It sure hurt him though.
They’d been official in his head. He’d thought that he and Mallory were going to last until next Christmas. And the one after that. They would be like Mr. and Mrs. Claus, overcoming the hurdles and growing old together. Wasn’t that the dream?
Hollis helped Duke into the passenger seat and climbed behind the steering wheel. Then he pulled out his cell phone and tapped on Evan’s contact, listening to the ring and waiting for his best friend to answer.
“It’s awfully early in the morning for you to be calling,” Evan finally said, breaking into a loud yawn.
“You win the bet,” Hollis replied. “I’m thinking cheesy things, and next thing you know I’ll be saying even cheesier things.”
“What was the bet again?” Evan asked. “One million dollars, right?”
“You wish, buddy,” Holla said on a laugh. “I just left the vet’s office. Duke’s going to be fine.”
“That’s great news. And what about you and Mal?”
Hollis put the truck in motion and pulled onto the main road. “It’s only seven thirty in the morning. Give me time. I’m working on it. Also, I kind of need to go Christmas shopping. You up for a guys’ day?”
Silence answered on the other line. “A guys’ day of shopping?” Evan’s tone was thick with disbelief.
“I have my list, and I’m checking it twice. What do you say?”
“I say… heck yeah,” Evan answered. “I haven’t finished my shopping either. We’re in the same boat, and we’ll be in the same doghouse if we don’t get some presents under those Christmas trees of ours.”
Hollis was already in the doghouse. If he played his cards right, though, maybe he’d find his way out.
The Memory Tree Ornament
The Memory Tree Ornament is actually just a tiny blue bear like you might win in one of those claw machines. With two beady black eyes and a threaded nose and mouth.
Here’s the story.
I worried that the worst thing that could happen by me casting Hollis alongside Mallory was that she’d fall head over heels for him. I’ve been accused of always worrying about the worst-case scenario. There was a scenario I hadn’t considered though.
I hadn’t accounted for the possibility that Hollis would be a no-show on opening night.
There was an understudy, of course. There should always be a good understudy for every role, but the boy I assigned didn’t know the lines.
He wasn’t ready, and his lack of preparation would erase all the hard work that Mallory had put into this role that she was so excited about.
I wish Hollis being a no-show was even the worst part, but there’s more.
While he didn’t show up for the stage, he did come to the theater.
Instead of entering stage left, he made his grand entrance from the back of the theater, drunk as a skunk and ranting like a rebellious teen boy who only knew rejection and pain.
I wanted to feel sorry for him, but the fact that he was hurting my granddaughter made me angry. So angry.
As Mallory delivered her lines, a loud “booooooo” rang out.
Not just once, but again and again. Each boo was louder than the last until the audience started laughing and Mallory fled the stage in tears.
Afterward, law enforcement hauled him off to juvenile detention.
He’d caused some more commotion prior to coming to the theater that night, but, as mad as I was at Hollis, I also felt responsible.
I knew he wasn’t ready. I knew he was just as fragile, if not more so, than Mallory.
Some people can’t accept kindness. Not when all they’ve ever known is the opposite.
Mallory refused a role the next year. Then she turned away from theater altogether, deciding that she wanted to study nursing instead.
Mallory leaned into the straight and narrow.
Nursing was practical, respectable, and safe.
Mallory became more serious than ever. She rarely laughed, except with her friend Savannah, who came every summer and brought out the light in her.
Eventually, Mickey and I were empty nesters.
Mallory went away to college, pursuing a degree that seemed fitting for the child who’d taken care of her younger sister all through growing up.
Maddie had never enjoyed theater life. I wasn’t a bit surprised when she reached eighteen and turned down a college scholarship to backpack along the Appalachian Trail.
It did surprise me when she fearlessly climbed a few mountains. Strong and brave.
“They’re grown now. All of them. What if I didn’t do a good enough job?” I asked Mickey one night.
“Nan, they’re fine. Mallory is a nurse. Maddie is an adventurer. She’s exploring the great, big world. Even our Daisy is a success.”
We’d been following Daisy’s career. She got sober on her own.
And every Christmas, she sent a card. You know, the kind that encapsulates the year in a letter, telling us about all her accomplishments.
She was the lead actress in an off-Broadway play that ran for years.
She had small roles on TV and even one on the big screen!
Imagine that. My daughter. Your mother. We were proud.
We even watched a few TV performances together.
“Our girls are all living their lives,” Mickey said. “It’s time for us to do the same.” He leveled his gaze with mine. “Now we get to focus on us.”
He was right. I knew it. I’d played the role of mother too long, neglecting the role of wife. He’d been so patient, as always.
For a while, maybe a decade, it was good. Then I noticed that I couldn’t remember the lines of the play I’d been performing for so many years. My mother had dementia toward the end of her life. In the back of my mind, I wondered if I was following in her footsteps.
When our wedding anniversary came, Mickey gave me a little gift in honor of Michael, as had been his tradition since the beginning. It was a little blue stuffed bear, no bigger than my palm.
“Michael,” I whispered. “Our baby.” My brain must have shifted to a place I only went to in my imagination. “Oh, Ralph. Our baby boy.”
When I looked up from the bear, expecting to see Ralph, however, I saw Mickey. In his expression, I saw the confusion. The horrible realization.
A panic crashed over me. It was two parts.
The first being that I’d somehow disappeared into a false reality.
The second being that I had revealed my big secret.
The baby wasn’t from a one-night stand in New York.
The baby had been Ralph’s. Part of me wanted to immediately play it off, but Mickey deserved better than a lie.
“Thank you for remembering him,” I said instead, clutching that little blue bear and feeling like I was holding on to all my memories now, wondering if they’d fall out from under me.
I later carried that bear to my keepsake box, my eyes scanning over all the tiny treasures that held my most precious memories.
I held each one, ensuring that I knew its significance.
It was Christmas and I had a small tree set up, not even decorated.
That’s when I started putting the items on the tree, choosing them by order, ensuring my time line was accurate.
That was the first time I put up my Memory Tree.
Mickey never wavered in how he treated me, and some part of me believes he knew all along and loved me anyway. He loved me for all my beauty, but for my flaws too. Truth be told, the flaws are what makes life, and love, more beautiful.
I put the Memory Tree up again the next year.
And that time I wrote the stories down. For some reason, I wrote the stories as if I was telling them to you, my sweet granddaughters.
As I wrote it all down, I was telling you the stories because in playwriting and theater, POV can change the entire story.
The storyteller is the one who determines how history is ultimately remembered.
I realize that you girls may remember me as the stern grandmother who made you eat your vegetables, do your chores, and memorize your lines (Mallory).
But you never met the me who made monumental mistakes.
I wanted you to meet that girl. That woman.
I wanted you to have the answers when your loved ones asked you one day.
So here we are. All my memories, my life, comes down to a box full of mysterious keepsakes that may look like someone’s trash. They were my treasure though.
Take out those most special memories every so often, like ornaments on a tree. Admire them. Reflect on what they meant to you. Then put them away just like your box of ornaments, because the future lies ahead, like the New Year after Christmas.
Oh, and make sure you choose love. Yes, love is a choice. It’s more than a feeling, it’s an action. A messy, painful, beautiful action that is worth it all in the end… And always use a live tree.
With my greatest love and sweetest memories,
Nan