Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Brax
I had two miserable hours on the road to think about how much I sucked. At one point, I turned on the radio to the 24-7 Christmas carols, and “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” was playing. I shut it off immediately. But it just underscored how I’d ruined Christmas Eve, the one time of the year when absolutely no one should fight. I thought about Mia standing there, looking so empty, her nose turning red, shivering in the cold.
I’d done that. I’d caused her pain. Again.
My excuse was that these past few days, I’d been processing what Brunner said. Thinking about it. Or really, avoiding thinking about it was more like it. And I’d gotten so wrapped up with Mia that I’d forgotten all about it.
The moral sketchiness of the job was pretty revolting, frankly. But I’d still wanted it, hadn’t I?
That job was my connection with Atticus. It meant something to me down to my core.
I’d made sure to never fall in love or do relationships. That had made life so much simpler—it would have made this decision simpler. But I had been doing a relationship, hadn’t I? And it had felt amazing.
I love you. We can work this out . Something I’d never said before. Something I hadn’t said this morning.
Maybe Jenna was right. I believed in myself in other ways, but in relationships, I couldn’t seem to do anything right.
I arrived at work to find that the pediatric emergency room was not enjoying a quiet Christmas Eve morning. Every room was full, and a team was admitting a child to the PICU for asthma management. I stopped to talk to the child’s father, who looked exhausted and terrified, and took time to explain what was happening and to reassure him they were in good hands.
But inside, I felt off-balance. I saw the fright in that father’s eyes. I was overly emotional, and I had to somehow tamp my emotions down in order to do my job.
The staff had draped the desk with red and green light strings. I knew there would be a plethora of candy and cookies in the break room. Plus, everyone had brought in covered dishes for a lunch spread to make the most of working on a holiday. Still, in this place, life and death converged, and festive could go only so far. And today, I definitely didn’t feel festive.
I was feeling too much about everything. The eight-year-old boy who broke his ankle ice skating. The little six-month-old who cried all night with an earache. The twelve-year-old who ate shrimp and broke out in hives. The toddler who ate too many Christmas cookies and had a tummy ache. They’d all be fine, but I felt out-of-proportion worried about everyone.
It struck me that loving someone must feel a lot like that too. You couldn’t help wanting that person to thrive and be happy and be their best selves, no matter what the price. All you wanted was to try and take away their pain and suffering and help them through hard times. And to just…be there.
Love was a gift that people gave each other unconditionally. Not because they deserved or earned it, but because they wanted to give it.
Mia had done that for me. She’d opened me up in a way no one had been able to before. Now it seemed I felt everything at full volume, without being able to turn it down.
The thought of losing her broke me.
It was so much easier when I had held everyone at arm’s length and not felt anything.
Mia
I decided from the moment I took my very first step back through the front door that I wasn’t going to spoil the day. Tossing off my sopping wet slippers, I ran upstairs and pulled on a long, thick sweater, some sweats, and warm socks. I reminded myself that my goal was to give my mom the best Christmas ever, and I would do that, even if it killed me.
I took a deep breath against the pain in my chest. It hurt so much, I could barely breathe. I wanted to cry, but I had to be strong. I had to see this through.
Following the scent of fresh coffee into the kitchen, I found my dad setting out mugs and the electric griddle. Maybe my mom loved everything about Christmas, but my dad was king of family breakfasts. He was apparently planning today’s with zeal, judging by all the ingredients he had spread out all over the island. I forced a smile and kissed him on the cheek. “Good morning, Dad.”
There. I’d managed a full sentence without crying. One sentence at a time, right?
He poured me some coffee and set it down on the island near me, assessing me over his bifocals. “Good morning to you too, sweetheart. You’re up early.”
My first thought was wondering if he’d heard us arguing in the driveway. If he did, he wasn’t letting on. “One of the residents in our program is having her baby a little early, so Brax had to go back to cover for her.”
“That’s exciting, but I’m sorry Brax had to leave.” He poured blueberries into a bowl and pressed them down with a fork, then sprinkled sugar on them. “How are you getting back to Milwaukee?”
I bit the insides of my cheeks to stave off the urge to cry, because suddenly thinking about surviving this entire day with fake Christmas cheer seemed as impossible as scaling Annapurna. My dad began pouring chocolate chips into another bowl when I managed, “Maybe Caleb. I don’t know.”
He looked up, again with that puzzled look. “We can get you back. No worries.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I held my cup in two hands, trying to take in the warmth. I felt frozen, inside and out. Numb.
Next, he mixed up the batter. But to my surprise, he poured some on the griddle.
“You’re making the pancakes this early?” I asked with surprise. “No one’s awake yet.”
He looked up and smiled at me over his glasses. “You are.” He dropped a bunch of chocolate chips on them as they cooked, just the way I liked them.
I clutched my stomach. “I’m not really sure I can eat right now.”
He watched the batter bubble up, and then pressed the pancakes down so they’d cook evenly. “So what’s going on?”
My dad could always have the most serious of discussions while pretending to be very busy doing something else. I think it was his secret way of getting us to spill all our troubles.
“We fought,” I blurted.
He gave an oh, well lift of the shoulders as he glanced up. “It happens.”
I set my cup down and looked my father in the eye. Before I could get out any words, I burst out with a sob.
Nonplussed, he flipped the pancakes onto a plate and covered it with a big lid—he never could abide them getting cold—and walked around the island, sitting down and wrapping an arm around me. He even ripped off a couple of paper towels on the way and deposited them in front of me so I could blow my nose.
His comforting presence made me bawl even harder. This was the man who taught me how to change the tire on my bike, who sat right here with me at this very table and quizzed me on geography facts so that I won the school geography bee, who taught me how to play poker, who even learned how to tie shoes left-handed so he could teach me, a left-handed person, so I didn’t have to learn the right-handed way. He passed the football to me right along with my brothers to show them and me that girls counted too. I wished my current problems were as simple as all those skinned knees that just needed a wash, a soak, and a Band-Aid.
“Out with it,” he said in a voice that was commanding and calming at the same time.
I was literally out of lies. I was emotionally drained. And I desperately needed someone to listen.
“Brax wasn’t my real boyfriend.” I blew my nose in the paper towel. “Well, he was for a few weeks last summer, but then he dumped me. We just got back together, but I learned this morning he lied to me about that job we’re both competing for.”
He sat back and pondered my words. “I’m sort of having trouble following that, but why’d he dump you last summer?”
“He said it was because we worked together, but it really was that he didn’t feel like he could be good in a relationship.” How to explain this giant mess? “You know he aged out of the foster care system. He’s accomplished so much on his own—he’s amazing, really.” I wondered, what if he’d been telling the truth? That he’d thought the offer was sketchy, had plenty to deal with helping me here, and had simply pushed thinking about it aside? I just didn’t know what to believe.
“The boy certainly looked smitten.”
I had to smile. “Who says smitten , Dad?” I blew my nose loudly again.
“Someone who does the NYT crossword every day,” he said with the slightest smile.
I was too distraught to react. “We work together, so we became good friends.”
“Good friends after you stopped dating?”
“Right. Sort of. Except he agreed to come home with me and pretend to be my boyfriend.”
“A fake boyfriend? You’ve been watching too much Hallmark Channel like your mom.”
This twisted roller coaster of a story would be too much for anyone to understand. But I tried to untwist it. “I told Mom about him last summer when I was crazy about him, but then she was going through all the cancer stuff, and I...well, I never stopped. I just kept spinning lies.”
“So he was your boyfriend, then he wasn’t, but then he was, but now he’s not anymore.” He whistled.
Yeah. Pretty messed up, wasn’t it? “One of the men in the pediatric group in Milwaukee I applied to told Brax under the table that the job would likely be his. And Brax didn’t tell me.”
“That’s how the best group in town behaves?” My dad took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is Brax going to take the job?”
“Of course he is. His mentor was a founding member. He was the whole reason Brax became a doctor in the first place.”
My dad had just implied something important and true. This truly wasn’t wasn’t how the best group in town should behave. Its actions were more akin to behavior for the worst group. Why had it even been in the running for me?
My dad let out a big sigh, like he was still trying to wrap his head around everything but not quite able. “With all this going on, why on earth did you bring him here?”
I swallowed hard. “Well, I…” I had to collect my thoughts. I wanted to say that I’d done it to keep my mom’s spirit up at a tough time. That was true, but it was also flawed. At that moment, I realized I should have given my mom more credit.
My mom, who had been there for all my troubles my entire life. Who had withstood the death of a child. Who had survived cancer.
How could I possibly have thought that my silly breakup could devastate her?
And something else too. I hadn’t been able to come clean and admit that things hadn’t worked out.
So much of this was me doing what I always did—pretending that I didn’t have troubles or problems. Hiding my struggles to not create waves, because I didn’t want to disappoint. After what had happened in our family with Grace, I’d become really good at minimizing my own difficulties.
“I know why Mia did it,” my mom said from the doorway. “I know you did it for me, sweetheart.” As she came in, Liam, Dina, and Caleb followed, all in their robes and pj’s.
My mom and dad eyed each other with the expressions of two people who’d been married a long time and had seen a lot. I didn’t want to see their concerned faces.
“Braxton does not think of you as a friend,” my mom said. I looked up in surprise. Because what she hadn’t said was I’m so disappointed in you.
I looked at my mother, whom I loved so much. Whom I never wanted to hurt. Whom I’d concocted this whole scheme for, which had only really ended up hurting me.
I stood up. “Mom, I’m so sorry.”
She got a little teary. “Oh, baby.” She wrapped me up in a hug. Which reassured me that the stupid thing I’d done was…okay. That I’d been forgiven, just like that.
“You know,” she said, examining my face. And by this time, I was crying too. “You don’t always have to shoulder all the burdens of our family by yourself.”
“I wasn’t doing that,” I said. But I was, wasn’t I?
“You felt responsible for my happiness,” my mom said.
“She’s right,” Caleb said. “Ever since Grace died, I think we’ve all tried to tread a little lightly with all our problems for Mom and Dad’s sake.”
My mom threw up her hands. “You people! Do you not think we know stuff anyway? If you don’t let us in on what’s going on with you, we imagine the worst.”
I looked around at my family, all sitting raggedly at the table having this brutal discussion without coffee, this early in the morning. “I should have told you the truth,” I said to my mom. “Initially I used the stories to lift your spirits during chemo. But then I was afraid to confess because I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”
“I know you love me,” she said. “But give me more credit.”
“I’m really sorry,” I said.
“We liked Brax,” Liam said after a while.
Caleb made a deep frown. “But he hurt Mia.” He flashed me an I-told-you-so look that I did my best to ignore.
My dad hugged me. “Honey, we’re sorry about the misunderstanding, but we’re always proud of you. No matter what.”
My mom nodded. “So proud.”
Had I actually forgotten they’d love me no matter how badly I messed up?
“Maybe Brax just needs time to think,” Dina said. “He seems like a good guy.”
Just then, Emma walked in, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “I think Santa came early.” She brought a flat, brightly wrapped package to her mom. “This says my name. Can I open it?”
Dina read the tag and looked up. “It’s from Brax.”
My stomach plummeted. He’d bought Emma a gift?
I closed my eyes to keep from crying any more. It was clearly a book. He must’ve somehow bought it when we were shopping.
She tore it open and confirmed what I suspected. It was The Night Before Christmas . A brand-new copy of the same classic edition we’d grown up with.
He’d given her a thoughtful gift, one with meaning—not only because he’d read it with her, but also because it was a cherished book to my family.
And that wasn’t all he’d done.
He’d encouraged me to tie up my loose ends with Charlie.
He’d run back and snagged that red dress because he suspected I’d never buy it myself.
He’d sacrificed spending the holiday with his sister to come home with me because I needed him.
I placed my hand over my chest because it physically ached. He’d done a lot. For me.
Emma held up the book like show-and-tell. “Aunt Mia, will Uncle Brax come back to read with me?”
“I hope so,” my mom answered for me.
“He left a few gifts under the tree,” Liam said, who’d walked into the family room and then back into the kitchen.
“Those are from our shopping trip yesterday,” I said.
“I found this one on the coffee table.” My dad walked over with a small square box and placed it on the island next to me. It was beautifully wrapped in sparkly green paper, with a bright green foil bow on top. “It’s got your name on it.”
That got me choked up again. Hadn’t he done enough? I shook my head. And pushed it away. “I can’t open it. I…I don’t want to.”
“You should open it,” my mom said, pushing it back. “He bought it for you.”
“I’ll just put whatever it is in the donation pile,” I said. “Along with those five-inchers.” Which, as of now, I no longer considered to be my lucky shoes.
“You don’t mean that—about the present, that is,” Dina said. Under her breath, she added, “Those shoes should have gone out with the trash a long time ago.”
I gave a little snort.
“See?” my mom said. “At least you can laugh a little.”
Right. Mainly so I didn’t break down and bawl in front of my entire family. I ripped off the paper to find a plain cardboard box taped at the seams. Liam opened the junk drawer and slid a pair of scissors to me down the length of the island.
I cut the tape on the box and opened it. Something was packed in heaps of white packing peanuts, which spilled from the box like snow.
And then I pulled out a snow globe.
My eyes instantly blurred so that I couldn’t even see it. I had to wipe my eyes on my sweater. While I was doing that, Caleb, of all people, spoke.
“It’s the same one as when we were kids,” he said, his tone incredulous.
“No way.” Liam lifted himself halfway out of his chair to see.
“I showed him our photo album,” my mom said. “I told him about it.”
Everyone gathered around.
“Aunt Mia, let me see,” Emma said. I lifted her onto my lap.
“It’s two little girls holding hands,” she said, pointing inside. “And there’s a little dog. And a house.” I heard a click. Leave it to the four-year-old to find the on switch. “Oooh, the house has Christmas lights,” she exclaimed. “And there’s an angel.”
I looked around her shoulder. An angel?
Sure enough, there was a third figure, her hands on each child’s shoulders like she was guarding them, keeping them safe. I examined the globe from different angles. The figure didn’t have wings. But she definitely looked…protective.
I sensed exactly why Brax had given this to me. It was a bit bold. Maybe a bit brazen. But I got why he did it.
“I—I think it means how we watch over our kids in the hospital,” I said.
“Like a doctor guarding the health of patients,” Dina said, intuitively getting it. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s kind of like you watching over kids like you and Grace,” my mom said. She didn’t go so far as to say cancer patients. She knew my reaction too well to go there.
Maybe Brax chose it because it was so similar to that globe many years ago, a representation of me and Gracie together. Except I understood what Brax had intended for me to see. This time, I wasn’t one of the kids. He was trying to tell me I could be a guardian for kids like Gracie. Like Rylee. Kids with cancer.
Tears were streaming now. I couldn’t stop them.
Brax somehow knew what I couldn’t face, and yet he’d made me face it. In a gentle way, if that made any sense. It was like he was trying to tell me not to be afraid. Maybe I should be angry, but I wasn’t. When I looked at the three figures, I wanted to be the so-called angel. I’d always wanted to protect kids because I hadn’t been able to protect Gracie. And maybe that meant taking one further leap than I’d been willing to take.
“That doesn’t seem like the kind of gift someone gives you who’s just trying to knock you out of the running for a job,” Caleb said.
If Caleb could say something that charitable, it must mean something. Also, he was right.
Caleb collected the gift wrap to toss in the recycle container. “Hey, I’m thinking of heading back tomorrow after lunch.” He used the ball of paper to shoot a basket. “Want a ride?”
“Yeah, sure. Thanks,” I said.
Brax got me, more than anyone I’d met. He pushed me to examine myself, and sometimes understood me scarily more than I did myself.
I’d been quick to judge him. Quick to believe he’d betrayed me. And I hadn’t given him the benefit of the doubt.