13. Paige
Secondhand Smoke - Kelsea Ballerini
Paige, 13 years old
“ H ey mom, I’m home!” I call into the quiet of our Northbrook townhouse. We’ve lived here for 5 years — ever since my grandpa passed away and my childhood home to my uncle instead of my dad, despite the fact that we lived with him all my life. I don’t pretend to know what family drama happened there and it’s not my place to ask. The only family we have left is on my mom’s side. I lost all of my cousins in the fallout. Well, except my step cousins but I only see them on holidays. It hurt — they were some of my best friends growing up and then they were just… gone.
“Paige?”
“Yeah, Mom. It’s me.”
“Paige, what the hell are you wearing?”
I look down at my denim skirt that stops less than an inch above the knee, in compliance with the school’s dress code, and my simple white v-neck t-shirt that shows a hint of cleavage, an unfortunate side effect of developing early. I’ve had boobs since the 3rd grade and there’s no containing them, no matter how hard I try.
“What do you mean? It’s just a skirt and a t-shirt.” I respond, but I already know what’s coming next, and I’m not proven wrong.
“You know white isn’t your color and you’re showing way too much skin.” What she really means to say is I’m too much. Too chunky, too busty — I take up too much space. I know it’s due, at least in part, to my mom’s own insecurities. She has a habit of projecting them onto me, but it hurts nonetheless.
“Ok… well, I just wanted to ask what Dad is doing up the road. I thought he was supposed to be off to take me to my skating lessons today.”
Dad works in carpentry and I can’t keep track of all of his job sites. Last I heard he was helping renovate one of the local hotels out by the mall, but it’s been a while.
“What do you mean?” Mom asks, a look of confusion flashing across her face.
“I saw Dad’s car on my walk home. He’s parked like 2 blocks away.”
Mom’s face pales and her eyes shine for a second before she composes herself and something I can only describe as rage takes over her body. She snags her keys up off the entryway table and takes off out the door. I don’t have time to unpack everything that just happened because I have to get ready for skating.
I’m pulling on my spandex practice skirt over my nude tights when mom storms back into the house. I hear her let out a disgruntled sound as she charges through the hallway past my room followed by the unmistakable rustle of trash bags.
I step out into the hallway to a discomforting sight. Mom is standing at their armoire, ripping clothes out, shoving them into trash bags. Once she’s done there, she moves on to the closet and repeats the process. I’m rooted to the doorway, unable to move.
“Mom?”
“WHAT?” she screeches in response.
“What’s going on?”
She resumes her rampage and ignores me, grabbing 2 of the bags and shoving past me towards the stairs and out the front door. Her face is red and streaked with mascara. She makes 2 more trips up and down the stairs and out to the car when she finally pokes her head into my room.
“Let’s go,” she snarls.
“Are you dropping me off today? Where’s dad?”
“You’re probably not going today. Get in the car.”
“But I have a competition in a week. I can’t miss practice.”
“Quit your whining, Paige. Get. In. The. Car.”
I inhale a shaky breath, willing the tears not to fall. Once I’m in the car, she slowly backs out of our usual parking spot and pulls onto the side street. Moments later, we pull up to a familiar house; the same one Dad was parked at earlier. He’s in the driveway wearing his usual work clothes, tool belt and hardhat, but there doesn’t seem to be any construction going on or even any other workers. Odd.
Mom rips open her car door and steps out, rounding the back to pop open the trunk when she grabs several of the trash bags and dumps them at dad’s feet. I’m still sitting silently in the car, my body shaking uncontrollably when I see the looks on their faces. Dad’s brows are furrowed, his mouth drawn into a straight line as mom repeatedly jabs her finger into his chest. I can hear muffled shouting, but I can’t make out any words. She shoves him in the chest and returns to the car to grab the remaining bags, dumping them with the others. Dad catches sight of me in the passenger seat then, his eyes shining with unshed tears at the sight of my own tear-stained cheeks. He hangs his head, turns towards the ho use, and stalks away without a glance back in my direction.
Mom gets back in the car without a single word, driving me to the rink like nothing happened. My lesson was a disaster. I don’t land a single axel and I can’t center my spins at all. I’m completely off my axis, right down to my very soul. I don’t know what happened. Mom won’t talk about it, but I saw enough to know that nothing is ever going to be the same again.
The familiar notes of Christmas music drift over the speakers as the hustle and bustle of last minute shoppers mill about the Northbrook Mall. It’s been three weeks since my spontaneous proposal and I am officially a college dropout with a brand new fiancé.
After my conversation with Maggie, I consulted an academic advisor and dropped out of my remaining courses. Truthfully, I was already failing several of them after I missed multiple assignments due, in no small part, to the state of my mental health. My people-pleasing tendencies tried to rear their ugly heads, but I persevered and, for quite possibly the first time in my life, I made a decision solely based on what I wanted.
Being back in my hometown feels like trying to breathe under a weighted blanket, stifling every attempt to come up for air. The ever present weight of familiarity hovering over me like a phantom.
I still needed to pick out the perfect Christmas gift for Nana so, against my better judgment, I ventured out to the mall the day before Christmas and I was now having deep-seated regrets. Even the dulcet tones of Canadian treasure Michael Buble can’t ease my anxiety .
Eager to complete this side quest and get the hell out of dodge, I make a b-line straight for the HomeGoods. When it comes to Nana, anything that makes her time in the kitchen more enjoyable is a home run. I pick out a large serving bowl featuring an intricate vibrant red design, a large handled cutting board, a set of cheese knives, and an apron that says “Mangia!” Content with my haul, I venture over to the local market to pick out some items to prepare the antipasti for dinner then hop on the next city bus to Nana’s house, with my bags in tow.
I haven’t seen her since I left for college 3 months ago and if I don't make my way over for dinner as soon as possible, I’d likely get a wooden spoon to the ass, or at the very least the threat of one. I may be a grown woman but you don’t mess with Nana. She lives in a small 2 story house on a quiet street. There’s a corner store next door where she would often send us to pick up scratch tickets and penny candy.
“You made it!” As expected, I’m pulled into a tight hug. When she pulls back, she puts one hand on each side of my face. “It’s so good to see you!”
“Good to see you too, Nan.” I smile at her with affection. She’s my favorite person.
Sofia Fanelli is a pocket-sized woman with short black hair and a fondness for daytime talk shows. She hasn’t aged a day since my 10th birthday and though she’s in her 70’s now, you wouldn’t know it to look at her.
“Bella,” Nono calls from his usual spot on the sofa. “Come in, come in.” Antonio is Nana’s second husband though they never officially married. He’s a stocky olive skinned man with wild gray hair and the biggest heart of anyone you’ll ever meet. He has a thick Italian accent, so it’s sometimes hard to understand him, but you’ll always leave their house with a handful of cash and a smile. We’re a big blended family, having 2 kids of his own who are both married with their own children.
After everyone has arrived, we all settle at the dining room table in our usual places. Nana is making the rounds, force feeding the grandkids another helping of pasta which none of us need nor asked for. But that’s how it is here – you walk in and expect to be fed an outrageous amount of food.
My fondest memory in this house is from New Year’s Eve when I was 9 or 10 years old. Nono let me and his other grandkids throw pots and pans down the steep concrete stairs at the back of the house. At the time, I didn't really understand why; I was simply told it was a tradition, and I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Once I was old enough to use google, I learned that the tradition is symbolic of letting go, out with the old and in with the new. It’s supposed to usher hope, prosperity, good health, and happiness into the new year. The memory brings a rush of warmth to my chest.
“How’s school going, Poodle?” I cringe at the childhood nickname she gave me somewhere between episodes of Barney and chasing my brother, Luca, around the house with a wooden spoon. This is the question I’ve been dreading since I left Toronto. I quickly shovel another bite of food into my mouth, hoping to avoid the conversation entirely. As far as everyone knows, I’m still enrolled. I’m not sure how I’m going to break the news to my family, but I have no doubt that it’ll go over about as well as a pair of wet jeans.
After dinner, it’s all hands on deck for pizzelle night, the familiar scent of sugar and anise filling the air. We’ve made these traditional Italian cookies on Christmas Eve for as long as I can remember. Ever since I was a kid, Nana would have tea in an antique teacup with a half eaten pizzelle on the saucer. We give them out in stacks as gifts around the holidays and freeze the rest. It’s one of those sentimental family traditions I’m eager to pass on to my own kids someday .
“Paige, dear, can you pass me a teaspoon?”
“Sure, Nana.”
I’m handing over the utensil when my phone vibrates on the table. If I had any sort of foresight, I would’ve laid it face down and avoided Cade’s very handsome face lighting up on my lock screen, soft launching my relationship to everyone in the room.
Cade: Did you make it home okay?
I pick up my phone and shoot off a quick reply.
Paige: Yes, Dad.
Cade: If you want to call me daddy, all you have to do is ask.
“Bella, you have a boyfriend?” Nono’s thick Italian accent cuts in over the quiet hum of Christmas music.
“Yes,” I smile, “his name is Cade.”
When I don’t respond, my phone vibrates with another text.
Cade: Are you blushing, Sunshine?
Paige: Yes. My boyfriend is saying dirty shit, and my grandmother is in the room!
Cade: Fiancé, baby. You better remember that.
Paige: Then my fiancé can explain to Nana why her perfectly respectable granddaughter looks like a cherry tomato right now.
“We’re getting old, you know,” Nana chastises. She’s a meddler at heart. I know she’s dying to know everything about my relationship and I’d be a fool to think she would miss the blush spreading across my face. “We won’t be around forever. I want to meet the boy who’s making my granddaughter smile like that.”
“Stop it, you’re going to be around for at least another 25 years. In fact, the way things are going, you’ll probably outlive the rest of us.”
Nono lets out his deep, hearty chuckle from the head of the table.
I stack another 10 pizzelles and wrap them in cling wrap before dropping more of the mixture onto the hot iron. There’s something soothing about the familiar action. I don’t have to think, just do. I get completely lost in the routine task until my phone startles me out of my thoughts. A familiar face is lighting up the screen with a FaceTime request, and I can see the mischievous gleam in Nana’s eyes as she stares at me.
“Poodle, if you don’t answer that hunk of a man, I will.”
I reluctantly swipe to answer, giving Cade a look that I hope registers as “tread lightly, I’m not alone”. Spoiler alert, it doesn’t.
“Hey Sunshine, Merry Christmas Eve!”
Nana’s face absolutely lights up at the nickname, and I know I’m not going to hear the end of this so I make a mad dash into the spare bedroom before they can overhear anything else.
“Hey Cowboy, so here’s what’s about to happen. I have about 4 seconds before Nana barges in here to interrogate us if I don’t get my ass back out to pizzelle night. To avoid an uncomfortable confrontation, I’m about to take this phone back out into the dining room and you will not say anything incriminating, got it?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” Why was that hot ?
I quickly return to the dining room, and there are now 5 sets of eyes on me.
“Ok family. I’m going to turn this phone around and introduce you to my boyfriend. For the love of all that’s holy, don’t embarrass me.”
My mom is already frowning in my direction but Nana is practically beaming. I turn on the spot while holding out the phone, scanning the dining room table as I point out each person.
“Hey ya’ll! Merry Christmas!” Cade says, his deep timber filling the room.
“Hello Cade. So nice to meet you! You sure are handsome.” Nana says, ever the charmer.
“Thank you, Ma’am. I see now where Paige gets her beauty.”
“Oh you,” she blushes.
“I like that one.” Nono chimes in, I turn the phone to see Cade practically glowing at the approval from my grandfather.
“So you’re the man who’s been distracting my daughter?”
Nana stiffens beside me. She’s no stranger to my mom’s disapproval of me, but she’s never seen her disdain directed towards a stranger like this.
“Uh, yes, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you.”
Mom crosses her arms, not bothering to hide her displeasure. “Paige, we’re busy here. Can’t you talk to your boyfriend later?”
“Mom, it’s Christmas Eve.” My face is flushed with embarrassment, and I have the urge to disappear.
“Paige, maybe I should let you go. I don’t want to cause any problems.”
“Don’t you worry about her, honey. She’s got a stick up her ass,” Nana says.
Nono lets out a roaring laugh as mom yells “MOM” and I yell “NANA” in tandem, and Cade is trying to stifle a smile .
“Fine. But don’t expect me to go along with this farce. That boy is nothing but a distraction.”
My festive mood vanishes as an uncomfortable silence settles over the room. My grandparents exchange worried glances in my periphery, and Luca averts his gaze entirely. Mom is scowling and I can’t bring myself to make any more pizzelles.
“Excuse me for a minute,” I say, walking towards the den to escape the tension, holding the tears at bay. I don’t get far before I hear my grandmother’s hushed voice from behind me.
“Cecilia, that was uncalled for. He seems like a nice boy and he makes your daughter happy. Why can’t you accept that and let her live her life? You’re going to live to regret the way you treat that girl someday.”
“I only want what’s best for her, and tangling herself up with some man while she’s supposed to be getting her degree will cause nothing but trouble. She’s already failing several courses.”
How the hell does she know that?
Part of me wants to go back in there and explain why I’m failing and get all of this out in the open once and for all, but a bigger part of me is a coward. Tears spring to my eyes. I’ve never heard anyone stand up to my mom the way Nana did for me. I continue walking towards the den, Cade’s eyes fixed on mine as I hold the phone up to my face and sit on the couch.
“I’m sorry, Paige. I probably shouldn’t have called.”
“It’s not your fault. She’s always like that.”
I let out a resigned sigh. The trip had been mostly pleasant up until this disaster.
“I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, baby. Maybe I should let you get back to your family. I don’t want to make things worse.”
“Yeah, ok. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight. ”
“Hey Poodle,” I look over to see Nana standing on the threshold, arms extended. I walk over and step into her embrace. “Don’t let her get to you, bella. Your mom has always been a difficult woman. She’s letting her own experience with love overshadow your happiness. That boy looks at you like you hung the moon. Don’t let her ruin it for you.”
“I won’t.”
“Good. Let’s get back in there.”
The rest of the evening passes with a dark cloud hovering overhead as we finish the last stack of pizzelles. I decide to spend the night in Nana’s guest room, unable to recover from mom’s outburst. I stay awake into the wee hours of the morning waiting for the sunrise and my new beginning. There’s no way I can tell her about college.
Cade
“Merry Christmas, y’all!” I shout into my eldest sister’s house as I struggle through the back door, presents in tow. The smell of turkey and dressing fills the air as I walk into the kitchen to find almost my whole family has already arrived.
Amy has hosted our Christmas get togethers for as long as I can remember. Her husband built this house years ago when their 3 kids were little. Jemma, Jake, and Sarah are all grown now, Jake is the only one who still lives at home.
Sarah lives 2 houses down with her boyfriend Justin, and Jemma and her fiancé bought a house across the street, so it makes sense for us to gather here at the holidays.
My mom and stepdad, along with my other two sisters, their husbands, and their kids are all here, too. I’m the only person going stag to this shindig.
I haven’t told anyone about Paige yet, not because I’m not proud to call her mine, but because I’m not exactly sure how to broach the subject. I’m planning to find the right moment to introduce the idea of Paige as my ‘girlfriend’. The word fiancée is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t think it’s the right time to dive into the deep end yet.
“Uncle Cade!” My little Maddie leaps into my arms. “Did you bring presents?” She asks, carefully assessing the stack of haphazardly wrapped boxes balancing in my hands.
“Sure did, Maddie girl!”
“Hey Cade, good to see you.” My youngest sister, Kim, says from the kitchen island where she’s sitting with her husband Dan and their almost 10-year-old daughter, Chloe.
Amy is standing at the stovetop, putting the finishing touches on our meal with the help of her eldest daughter, Jemma. Christmas always includes a huge buffet style spread with all the fixings. We’ll inevitably fill up on way too much food and sweet tea before the kids gather in the family room to tear into their presents.
Jemma catches my eye and gives me a wave. She’s actually a year older than me but we’ve always been really close. I was sort of a late-in-life oops baby for my parents. We like to joke about me being Jemma’s uncle while simultaneously being younger than she is. She glances behind me, giving me a warning look, before my mom saunters into view on the threshold between the kitchen and family rooms. Here we go.
“Hey mom, Merry Christmas.” I give her a quick hug then busy myself placing the presents under the tree in front of the big picture window.
“Cade, good to see you!” The booming voice comes from my step dad who pokes his head out from the wingback chair behind the tree.
“Didn’t see you there, Pops! Merry Christmas.”
“Still no girl this year?” He likes to poke fun at me for being the only solo person at these events. This seems like the perfect opportunity to introduce my relationship and I’m not about to let it pass me by .
“Funny you should say that. I am actually seeing someone.”
“Well where is she? I’d like to meet her!”
“Meet who?” My mom has always had an innate ability to sneak up on her kids undetected in order to eavesdrop.
“Cade was just telling me about his girlfriend.”
“Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?” Jemma scolds from the doorway. It looks like my declaration has garnered the attention of my entire family. Good, I guess I can get this over with in one fell swoop. I quickly tap through my phone and find my favorite picture of Paige – the one she sent me during the first snowfall of the season.
“This is Paige.” I hand my phone out to Jem, who passes it around the gathering crowd.
“Holy shit, Cade. She’s beautiful,” Sarah says, peering over her sister’s shoulder at the gorgeous woman on my phone.
“That she is,” I concede. “It’s still new. She’s not from Kentucky. She… well, she lives in Canada. We’re doing a long distance thing for now.”
“Is that really a good idea?” It’s my sister, Kim, who chimes in next. “How are you going to make it work?”
I open my mouth to defend my relationship but it’s Jemma who starts talking first. “Y’all, it’s not 1960 anymore. There are a million different ways this can work. Airplanes, buses, trains, FaceTime, phone calls, texting… should I keep going?”
I appreciate her defending me, and she’s right. We’re going to make this work, one way or another. We’ve already been doing a long distance friendship for months so I know at least that part works. Now I just have to figure out how I can see her face to face, and touch her. Fuck, do I dream of being able to touch her.
“Thanks, Jem. I’m hoping to fly there for a visit soon.”
I look around at the smiles on some of the faces scattered around the room, then take not e of the look of disapproval on my mom’s face. It wasn’t entirely unexpected. I’m her youngest and the only boy. She’s always had very high expectations for me.
“Mom, before you disapprove, I’d appreciate it if you would let me figure things out first. Maybe even bring her back so she can meet everyone.”
My mom is likely concerned that Paige might convince me to relocate to Canada. It’s not entirely out of the question, but Oak Ridge has always been home to me and I’m secretly hoping she will fall in love with it, too. Mom simply nods and gives me a disingenuous smile.
The rest of the day is a whirlwind. We stuff ourselves full of good food and friendly conversation, then the kids open their presents with wide eyes and gratitude, giving out hugs before settling in to play with their new toys.
With the kids occupied, the adults gather in the family room for our annual dirty santa game. One at a time, we pick a number from a hat. Once everyone has a number, we take turns picking up a gift and opening it, or you can choose to steal a gift that’s already been opened. By the end of the game, our faces are sore from laughter and I head home with a full heart, and a dinosaur onesie.
Paige
Christmas passes in a flurry of activity and, thankfully, no more outbursts or interventions from my mother. And more importantly, no revelations about my future. Before I know it, it’s New Year’s Eve. Cade and I have yet to talk about what happens next, but I know he dodged a bunch of questions at his family Christmas get-together.
Cade: What do you have planned for your birthday?
Paige: I’m not sure. I’ll be in Toronto, but I don't really have any plans yet.
Cade: What if your fiancé could fly in for a visit?
Paige: What? How? Last time I checked, you don’t have a passport.
Cade: Yeah, so about that… It should be here next week. What do you say, Sunshine? Meet me at Pearson International in 3 weeks?
I’m speechless. In order for Cade to get a passport next week, he must have applied ages ago. But why?
Cade: You there? Have you gone into shock?
Paige: I don’t know what to say.
Cade: Say yes.
Paige: Yes.
I spend the rest of the day cleaning and preparing for a New Year’s Eve party with my old high school friends. None of us love big crowds and truthfully, our small town doesn’t have much of a bar scene. Instead, we’re going to hang out in mom’s basement with some drinks and snacks, just like our old high school get-togethers. Nothing like a little juvenile nostalgia to ring in the new year.
Kevin, Bristol, and Jaz are the only reasons I even survived high school — I’ve missed them. I just hope I can avoid the topic of my engagement and my subsequent drop out. I’m not sure what to tell them yet. There’s too much still up in the air for me to answer anything about the future.
My friends arrive around, 9pm and Kevin is already 3 sheets to the wind. I saw them when I was home over the summer, so we spent the next hour catching up on everything that’s happened since we went our separate ways.
Jaz is studying economics at Western, Bristol is living with her while working odd jobs, and Kevin is still in town doing a welding apprenticeship at the local college.
I probably could've chosen to study in my hometown, too, but I was determined to leave behind all the ghosts of my past when I fled to Toronto. We still keep in touch over text, and we follow each other on social media so we don’t really miss out on a lot of the big events in each other’s lives. That’s how I know that Jaz has a viking-like boyfriend waiting for her back in London. I haven’t posted anything about Cade yet, choosing to keep our relationship private for the time being.
Eyeing the lineup of blue raspberry flavored shots, I spot Bristol out of the corner of my eye holding a suspiciously familiar phone. Choosing to ignore my irritation at the intrusion, I turn my attention back to the task at hand.
“For Gondor,” I shout before I throw back my first shot. I follow it up with another, and another, and one more for good measure. Suddenly, I’m hearing a voice that can’t possibly be in the room with me, except it is and now I’m scowling at one of my closest friends because she’s pointing the phone at me and the face looking back is my fiancé. I snatch the device out of her hands, hoping I can avoid any impending questions .
“Did you say ‘For Gondor?’ before throwing back your shots?”
“Are you judging me, Cowboy?”
I’m only like… a single sheet to the wind right now. I’ve had about 2 beers and 1 tequila shot, the 3 additional shots I just took notwithstanding. Jaz and Kevin are giving each other a quizzical look when Jaz mouths, “cowboy?” Shit.
“Is there something you need to tell us, Pip?” Jaz asks. I can’t escape the old high school nickname my friends adopted after my dad called me Pipsqueak in front of them.
“Ooook, so I guess now is as good a time as any. This is Cade. My…” I hesitate. I can’t say fiancé yet. Cade gives me a knowing look and a subtle nod, telling me we’re on the same page and he’s going to follow my lead, “boyfriend,” I say before rushing out of the room. In an asinine attempt to avoid any further questions, I dart away to the laundry room for a quiet minute with Cade.
“You having a good time, Sunshine?” he asks. His face is full of longing and a hint of amusement.
“Maybe. It would be better if I could kiss my fiancé at midnight.”
“I know, baby. Real soon, I’m going to stand face to face with you and kiss you breathless.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Cowboy.” I’m not completely drunk yet, but there’s a heat spreading through my body at the sound of Cade's deep southern drawl.
“You’re looking a little flushed there, Sunshine. Missing me?”
“Caaaade,” I whine. I think he knows I’m turned on, but before I can filter my thoughts, the alcohol kicks in and I blurt, “I’m so fucking horny.”
I hear the sound of Cade’s deep laugh before Jaz and Bristol barge into the room with the worst possible timing.
“Time to get back to the party, Sunshine, ” Jaz snickers .
I inhale a sharp breath in shock. “Were you assholes listening in on my private conversation?”
“Yeah babe, and as much as I enjoyed our alleyway threesome back in the day, none of us are eager to help with your current predicament, so let’s get you back out there and have a few more drinks before you start stripping in your mom’s laundry room. Say goodbye to your cowboy .”
“Bye Cade, my friends are being cock blockers.”
“Happy New Year, Sunshine,” he says with a chuckle. “Text me in the morning.”
“Goodnight. I l….” the unspoken words hang in the air as I rush to end the call.
I need to find new friends.
“It hardly counts as a threesome if you didn’t stick around to finish the job.” I chastise my cockblocker in chief. “What was that guy's name, anyway? The one with the mohawk and the big dick?” I ask Jaz on our way back to the party.
“You mean Joel?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. He really did have a big dick. Girthy.”
“Ok, Paige. It’s been really fun walking down memory lane –” Jaz starts.
“Actually, it wasn’t so much a lane as it was an alley…” I interject.
“Pip,” Bristol cuts me off, “time to tell us all about the Cowboy.”
“Ugh, fine,” I whine. I guess I’m doing this.