Chapter 23 Penny
Penny
When we pull into my parents’ neighborhood, the party is already in full swing. We had to park a block away, with guests’ cars lining both sides of the street.
Faint music can be heard from the house as we walk up the driveway.
“How big is your family again?” Matt asks, his spiral ham tucked under one arm.
“There are just four of us. Mom, Dad, me, and Banks.”
“Huh.”
We reach the front porch. After being away for so long, I don’t know if I should ring the doorbell or just walk inside. I stall instead. “So you like your Christmas tree?”
“I love it,” he says, looking down the street toward our rental car, then back at me. “You sure it’s okay tied to the roof of the car like that?”
“Totally. I don’t think we’ll be long, anyway.
Oh damnit! We should’ve gotten you a stand while we were there!
Do you have a stand? And what’s your ornament situation?
You know what? A nearby dollar store can likely get you started with some basics.
If we hurry, they might still be open. Also!
Shit! We need to get you a can of 7UP or Sprite!
Adding a bit of 7UP or Sprite to the water can help preserve the tree and keep it looking fresh. ”
“Penny. You okay?” he asks.
“Now that you mention it, you’re right, let’s skip this whole party and get your tree in some water before it dries out.”
I grab his arm and turn him back toward the driveway.
He stops us and places a hand on my shoulder. He looks deep into my eyes and gives me a kind—and possibly concerned—smile.
“I’m losing it, aren’t I?” I rest my forehead on his chest.
He wraps one arm around me.
Gosh, when did we get so comfortable with each other?
“Listen,” he says as he continues to hold me. “If you truly want to turn around and head back to the city, we obviously can. If you’re game, we can head to my apartment… have some hot chocolate… decorate my tree…”
“That sounds really nice,” I groan.
It occurs to me then that we haven’t even seen each other’s apartments yet.
“But something tells me you wouldn’t have come all this way if you didn’t want to at least go inside,” he says.
I pull away from the hug and look up into his eyes. “You’re right. I really want to see my sister and her kids.” I hesitate. “I probably should’ve given you the real scoop about this party, though.”
“Shit. Is this where you tell me your family is a bunch of murderers? Penny, did you bring me to a Christmas murder party? Should I make a run for it?”
He always knows how to make me laugh.
“No, they don’t kill people,” I sigh. “Just dreams.”
“Well, the Whitakers officially sound delightful,” he jokes. “I, for one, am excited to spend an evening with them.” He gestures to the door. “Shall we?”
I’m silent for a few moments, just staring at the door. I wrap my coat around me tighter when a cold breeze whooshes past.
“Penny,” he says quietly. “I was serious about being your buffer. I promise I won’t let anyone mess with you.”
“You and I have something in common,” I say.
“We’re both ridiculously sexy?”
I laugh. “That and… I’ve never celebrated Christmas either.”
“What?”
“I mean, not really. My parents’ relationship with each other is… all-consuming. For as long as I can remember, they’ve always had these really intense ups and downs. Christmas was always their ‘up,’ I guess. Since we were super little, they’ve always taken a romantic trip for two on Christmas.”
“Without you and your sister?”
“Yup,” I say, popping my ‘p.’”
“Where did you go?”
“Aunts, uncles, family friends… whoever would have us.”
“Damn, that’s rough!” he says. “And this is coming from a guy whose dad died on Christmas!”
I snort.
“It’s okay. You can laugh.” He nudges me. “We gotta laugh at the sad things sometimes.”
When Matt Barbera walked into that audition room all those weeks ago in that silly spandex outfit and did that truly bizarre performance, I never dreamed he’d become someone who comforts me and teaches me.
Yet, here I am, more grateful every day that he’s in my life.
“I only bring all that up because this…” I gesture to the lights on the house, and the shadows of the party guests moving inside.
“…was supposedly for Banks and me. They always held ‘Whitaker Wonderland’ two weeks before Christmas so we could celebrate together.” I pause.
“Maybe it started that way, but it quickly became another way for them to show off to their neighbors and friends. It was our job to look pretty, talk about our accomplishments, and make them look good. Ever since I quit dance, I’m never quite impressive enough for their liking, and I always leave wishing I’d never shown up. ”
“Yeah, I’m not putting you through that. Off we go.” He puts an arm around me again, and we walk down the driveway.
“Wait! Penny!” My sister’s voice carries from the now open doorway, stopping us in our tracks. We turn around to face her. “Ohhhh. It’s hot Thanksgiving guy!”
Matt leans closer to me and whispers, “Penny Whitaker, do you call me hot Thanksgiving guy?”
“No, but apparently my sister does.” I jog over to her and give her a big hug. “Banksy! I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too, but I’m pissed at you.” She looks over her shoulder into the house, then whisper-hisses, “Do you know how much it sucked to learn from our mother that you have a boyfriend?”
“I don’t technically have a boyfriend,” I say.
So why does it feel like I do?
“Am I imagining this person behind you?” Banks laughs.
“No, I-I mean, he—”
“Hi.” Matt approaches Banks and shakes her hand. “I’m Matt. And I can explain. Penny faked it for me when I needed it, so I faked it for her when she needed it.”
“That really didn’t explain anything, did it?” I say.
My sister’s brow furrows. “Was that an orgasm joke?”
“Banks!” I scold.
“Ha, no ma’am,” he says. “If I’m ever lucky enough to be in an… intimate situation with Penny again, I can guarantee she won’t be faking a damn thing.”
Holy shit.
Banks’ mouth drops open, but she doesn’t say a thing.
“See you inside, darling,” he rumbles in my ear and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll let you ladies talk.”
He walks into the house, totally confident, entering a party where he knows exactly no one, leaving my body absolutely on fire, despite the winter temperatures.
Banks shuts the door behind him and steps closer to me on the porch. “Woman? You better spill.”
I fan my hand in front of my face.
It does nothing to cool me down.
I want to tell her everything, but for perhaps the first time in my life, I have no idea where to start.