Chapter Twenty-Seven
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
COOPER
O ne totally unfair snowball fight later (I had to throw left-handed! And Liesel’s brothers are both pitchers!), the four of us are red faced, smiling, and drinking hot cocoa on the couch while we all watch Home Alone 4 .
“Can’t we go back and watch Home Alone 2 ?” I ask Liesel. We’re on the loveseat end of the sectional. “I missed the whole thing when I was plowing snow.”
“Nope. Sorry,” Lucas says.
“But this one’s … not awesome.”
“We watch every Home Alone movie on Christmas Eve,” Logan says.
“It’s tradition,” Liesel says.
“So was giving naughty children coal,” I mutter. “Not all traditions are created equal.”
Liesel laughs, and I grab her legs and sling them over mine. I rub the gray cashmere, and she smiles and takes a long drink of hot cocoa.
How have we only known each other for a couple of weeks when it feels like we’ve been doing this forever?
“No canoodling!” Lucas says. I turn just quickly enough to see him throwing a Canadian Smartie at me. I catch it in my mouth.
“Enough,” Logan says, kicking Lucas across the couch. “They’re gonna canoodle.”
Bruce enters from the kitchen. “All right. Drain the hot chocolate and let’s finish the nuts and bolts, already.”
“Yes sir,” I say. I set down my mug and remove Liesel’s legs from mine. When I stand, I hold my hand out to pull her up. Her brothers stare at me from the couch. “What?”
“‘ Yes sir?’ ” Lucas repeats.
“Are you trying to make us look bad?” Logan asks.
I smirk. “You’re doing that all on your own.”
Liesel puts her hands on my shoulders, and instinctively, I hold my arms open for her to jump on my back.
“No piggybacks!” Lucas yells as we go into the kitchen.
“Bro, chill,” Logan mumbles.
Liesel laughs in my ear.
Nuts and bolts are a cinch to make, but they bake in the oven for hours and require frequent mixing, so when everyone goes back into the family room to watch the movie, I take a break in the kitchen under the guise of helping. But really, I’m back to looking for earlier flights home.
And messaging my parents.
I haven’t talked to them all day, only texted. The fact that neither of them will answer their phones bothers me. They keep texting that everything’s okay, but it’s suspicious, to say the least. My mom is homebound! Has she become addicted to her VR headset? Is she so caught up in “experiencing” the world that she’s forgotten about me?
She can’t have. She loves me. I know she loves me.
But in my lowest moments, that fear has a way of resurfacing. That day I waited in the office at school while the admin staff called her over and over again left a mark. The secretary said something to another admin that I’ve never quite been able to shake: “How little do you have to care about your own kid to just forget him?”
In spite of what I told Liesel about my radical acceptance, I can’t stop looking for flights. So when I get an alert of a seat opening up, I text my parents immediately.
Coop
Good news! I found a flight that’s leaving earlier. I’ve booked a red eye leaving Christmas night, so I’ll be there when you guys wake up the day after Christmas. I’m just sorry I can’t get anything earlier! Stupid storm.
Dad
Don’t worry about it, son. These things happen. We’ll see you when we see you.
Mom
Is the ticket refundable?
Coop
…
…
What do you mean?
Mom
Nothing! I saw on the news there’s another storm coming in. I’d hate for you to waste that money if it gets canceled again.
Coop
If they cancel it, I get refunded. But that won’t happen. I’ll be there, Mom.
Mom
Don’t stress about it, sweetie. We understand.
Mom has an over-the-top personality. I get it from her.
She is not being over-the-top. She’s not saying how much she misses me. She’s not expressing regret the way she always does for not being able to come to me. Her responses are almost nonchalant.
How little do you have to care about your own kid to just forget him?
Is that what’s happening?
It can’t be. She never wanted to leave me at school or miss milestones. She loves me. If she’s gotten into this headset, maybe it’s her way of coping with her pain. Liesel could be right that just being open about how I feel might allow us to have conversations that help both of us be more authentic.
I don’t want to do this through text, though, and they won’t answer my calls, so I pull up a face messaging app.
I look at the image of me on my phone. I’m wearing a navy and red Firebirds hoodie, and my hair is a bit wild from being stuffed under a beanie for hours outside. I don’t look sad, but I don’t look happy, either. I always look happy when I send messages to my parents.
My finger hesitates over the record button. And keeps hesitating.
“What are you doing?” Liesel asks, coming up behind me.
I put the phone down on the counter and rub my face with my hands. “I don’t know. Trying to work up the nerve to send a message to my parents.”
Liesel sits on the stool next to me and puts her hand on mine. She runs her fingers lightly over my skin, but I shift my hand so our fingers are interlocking. As much as I love the feeling of her touch, I need something more solid. More grounding.
“They’re still not answering the phone?” she asks.
“No. And they don’t seem to care that I’m not there.”
“Of course they care,” she says. “Your mom is probably too upset to talk. She could be beating herself up.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe she’s on that stupid headset.”
She spins in the stool so one of her knees is in between mine. “I’m sorry this is so hard. What can I do?”
The timer rings, and we both get up and cross around the island to take the nuts and bolts out of the oven and stir them. The Shreddies, Crispix, pretzels, peanuts, and Cheerios shift around, and the smells of garlic, butter, Worcestershire sauce, and a few other seasonings fill my nose. It smells delicious and like a nice change from all the chocolate and candy we’ve eaten today.
“Want to press record when I send the message?”
“Whatever you need,” she says. She puts both pans back in the oven and we return to the stools.
“Ready?” she asks. I nod.
The phone is propped on the counter facing me, and I watch Liesel’s finger hit the button. I automatically smile, but I see what Liesel means instantly: the smile is in my eyes, but I don’t look happy.
Not really.
Does my mom know that?
“Hey guys.” I sigh and drop the smile. “I miss you. I don’t know why you haven’t been answering today, and honestly, I’m bummed. We’ve never been apart on Christmas Eve. It feels wrong. And I’m sad about it.” I pull my eyes from the screen and look at the kitchen without really taking anything in. “I’m having fun, though, and I feel kind of guilty about that. Kind of relieved, too.” Then I look up at Liesel, whose mouth is pulled to the side like she’s trying not to cry. “Want to meet my … is it too early to call you my girlfriend?” I ask. “I don’t want to date anyone but you.”
Her eyes pop. “Uh, neither do I.”
I feel the smile overtake my face, but I don’t look at the image of me on the screen. I watch Liesel, instead. Because she’s biting her lip like she’s trying to bite back her smile, and that only makes my grin widen. “Then it’s official.” I grab the phone and duck my head so it’s next to hers. “Mom, Dad, this is Liesel Fischer. My girlfriend . Bet you never thought you’d hear those words out of my mouth, huh? I guess some Christmas miracles really do come true.” She rolls her eyes with clear affection and then turns to face the screen.
“Hi Mr. and Mrs. Kellogg. I wish we could meet in person, but I promise my family will take good care of Coop until he can get home to you.”
“Don’t believe her. Her brothers and dad all tried to kill me.”
“It was light maiming,” she says, looking at me. “And you probably had it coming.”
“I definitely had it coming,” I say. She looks at me while I watch her face on the screen. “Oh, and Mom, the face tattoo was a stroke of genius. Liesel and I met in the airport, and she didn’t recognize me. She works for the Firebirds .”
“That idea came from your mom?” Liesel throws her head back and laughs at the ceiling, and the view of her long neck makes me want to kiss it. But not on camera. “It was a Rudolph face tattoo! No one can look someone in the eye if they have a face tattoo. Brilliant idea, Mrs. Kellogg.”
“But it’s okay. Turns out Liese has had a crush on me for like ten years.”
She shakes her head, laughing. “He may be a brat, but you’ve raised a great guy,” Liesel says. “I hope you both have a Merry Christmas.”
I sigh as Liesel backs out of the screen, leaving me with my parents. Sort of. “I wish I could be there with you guys,” I say. But even as I say it, I know that’s not true. That’s not what I want to say. I look at my hands in my lap, and Liesel’s hand slips into mine. I look up at her, smile sadly, and then look at the screen. What I want to say is I wish you were here . But I can’t say that. I won’t. I can be honest without being hurtful. “I wish we could be together on Christmas. Love you guys. Call me when you can.”
I hit stop. And the message sends.
Liesel gives me a tight hug, and I breathe into her hair. “Thanks for helping me,” I whisper, “Girlfriend.”
“Thanks for letting me be a part of it. Boyfriend.” She moves her face so she can kiss my head, then my cheek, then my lips, and when we part, she smiles. “I’m proud of you.”
I breathe out heavily. “Can we watch Elf now?”
“Oh, sweet, sweet boy. The fifth movie just ended. They’ve turned on the sixth.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“But the first two are so good! Why would you even watch the others?”
“Tradition.”
“But my family has a tradition of not watching dumb movies on Christmas Eve.”
“Embrace the Fischer way.” She stands up, and I follow suit, but instead of walking into the family room, I grab her, spin her around, and kiss her.
I kiss her good .
Her mouth is warm and inviting, and while her body initially is stiff in surprise, she quickly folds her arms around me, and my hands clutch her back. In the background, there’s a dinging sound, but my thoughts are too focused on Liesel for anything else. I love the way she tugs gently on my hair. It makes every kiss and movement electric. She turns her head and deepens the kiss, and I moan?—
“NO MOANING!”
We pull back and I’m almost dizzy with want. We’re still holding each other, but my eyes catch on Liesel’s stupid, interfering brothers looking at us with their arms out in a universal “What the heck?” stance.
They’d be intimidating if they weren’t wearing abominable snowman footie pajamas.
“Dude, just because we’re letting you live doesn’t mean you can make out with our sister,” Logan says.
“Not cool,” Lucas says.
The dinging is still going on, and her brothers pass us—both with a punch to my shoulder—and go around the kitchen to the oven, where they take the nuts and bolts out, turn off the timer, and let them sit on the stove top to cool.
When they come back around, Logan grabs me by the shoulders while Lucas grabs Liesel. “Back to the movies, guys,” Logan says.
I whimper.
“Can we please watch Elf ?”
“Not a chance, Buddy.”