Chapter Three
Ripley
My brother and his omega kept sending me pictures of what was going on at their house. I know they hoped it would make me turn around and come back to their house for the holidays, but all it did was remind me why I didn’t.
I loved them so much, and if there was one thing their happy family did not need, it was me in my current state of mind.
I’d done my very best to explain that to them, but I had a feeling I wasn’t getting through.
And I didn’t want to hurt them—but if I let them emotionally manipulate me, even with the best intentions, I’d be right back where I started.
So, I decided the best course of action was to let them send whatever they wanted and just not look at it.
After a day on the road, my plans were basic.
Get home, close the door behind me, and avoid any signs of the holidays.
While out like this, I felt vulnerable, exposed.
Every town I passed had their own tribute to the most wonderful time of the year, and I stayed on the highway as long as possible, keeping all those banners and trees and lights and Santas and stockings and reminders at a distance.
Even billboards were holiday themed, though, and a ridiculous number of drivers had those reindeer antlers that stick out the windows.
Every semi sported a wreath on its front.
I didn’t object to people enjoying the holiday—I was glad they could.
Once, I had as well. When I was a child. When my twin was still at my side.
The rest of my family had made their way through the grief long ago.
They still talked about him with love and sadness, but they had not allowed the loss to destroy the holidays forever.
My folks had tried to get me help, but the elder had reported back that I sat in our sessions and refused to talk at all.
Just shut down. He said I’d come around in time.
Spoiler alert: That time had not yet come.
And I’d given up waiting for it too.
The best I could do was live as best I could without causing my family too much grief.
They tried to understand, but their love could not get through the pain.
The miles rolled by and then traffic slowed, and signs indicated we were being fed off on an exit due to road work.
Not what I needed, but what choice did I have?
And it wasn’t as if I had a schedule to keep as others on the road no doubt did.
There were not many cars on the highway at this point, either,
The town had enough decorations to make me want to scream.
Clearly the residents enjoyed the winter holidays.
Light posts were hung with banners celebrating all of them, and strands of metallic garland crisscrossed the streets.
Each storefront seemed to be competing with the others in both color and quantity of ornamentation.
People walked along in the snow wearing full-length coats and light jackets, high boots, and winter garments of every description.
A remarkable number of them also had on necklaces, sweaters, and hats that blinked and flashed.
“Christmas nuts,” I muttered, despairing at how much trouble it was simply to avoid something. “I just want to go home and hide.”
Seeking distraction, I reached for the radio, punching station after station with increasing frustration.
I thought I’d found some ordinary non-holiday programming only to find that what I was hearing was an ad for a talk-radio program a week from today.
With a growl, I straightened in my seat.
A giant inflatable elf waved from the sidewalk.
I might have waved back a particular gesture before trying one last time for something to listen to that did not involve red-nosed reindeer or cartoon dentists.
As the strains of “Good King Wenceslas” rang out, I exited the downtown of this place and clicked the radio off.
At least it would be quiet, but my sigh of relief was cut short when I hit a patch of ice and slid in a slow, sickening spin.
Clutching the wheel, I tried to remember whether to steer into or out of the skid, but fortunately came to a stop in someone’s driveway.
All the rest of the traffic, what there was of it, seemed to have disappeared, which was the only reason I had not hit something.
Shaken, and even more disgusted with how things were going, I went to back out of the drive only to realize the engine had stalled.
Of course, it had…and the smoke pouring out from under the hood was the final straw.