Chapter Thirty
You’re not allowed to play with us!”
“Why would I want to? You’re just a bunch of kids,” Gavin protests, but doesn’t leave.
Collin and Jonathan start laughing like we’re putting on a show. I glare at them. “Stop!”
When they laugh again, I get so angry, I leave.
“Stupid boys,” I grumble, entering the kitchen and flopping down at the kitchen table.
“What’s this all about?” Magda asks, setting a tray of cookies on a rack to cool.
“Gavin ruins everything. Doesn’t he know they’re my friends?”
“Do you think that Gavin may not have many friends? Not like your boys?”
“Why is that my problem?” I harrumph.
“Sadie Johanna,” Magda scolds.
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” I cross my arms, not liking it when Magda is upset with me.
Magda pulls out the chair next to me and sits.
“I know you and the boys have a special friendship. It’s not easy for everyone to find friends like that.
Maybe let him see what it’s like, just a little bit.
This will be the last year your brother’s in the same school as you.
You’re going to miss him next year when he starts high school in Wetherford.
” She leans down to whisper, “And I think he’s going to miss you too. ”
I try not to sigh. I know it makes Magda feel bad when she doesn’t think I’m listening. I kiss her cheek and run back outside, where the boys and Gavin are hanging from different branches of the maple tree.
“Let’s see who can hang on the longest while being tickled,” I yell, racing to the gigantic tree. They all drop to the ground.
Idon’t remember much of Christmas Eve. Other than the skull-splitting headache and intermittent waves of nausea. My mother doesn’t care that I’m hungover, though she doesn’t ask what’s wrong with me either. Probably assumes it’s a Jonathan thing.
We’re too busy delivering toys and baskets of food in the morning.
Then preparing the house to receive guests for our annual Christmas party—that’s a much bigger production because of the upcoming election.
It’s always been my mom’s shining moment with the twelve-foot tree and the catered event.
I do my best to stay out of the staff’s way as they bustle around at her direction.
Somewhere between serving lunch at the shelter and showering to get ready for the party, I start to feel more alive. But not like myself. I’m not sure who that is anymore.
Mom wanted to make sure you got something to eat.
” She knows he never eats during the party, too busy socializing.
I close the door to the office behind me.
The room is lit only by the colorful lights of the Christmas tree.
Dad’s leaning back in his leather chair, focused on the tree, but a million miles away.
I set the plate and utensils on his desk, then perch on the arm of his wingback chair and join him in admiring the tree the girls and I decorated.
“You girls did a nice job,” he says, rubbing my back. “Don’t tell your mother, but I always look forward to your tree in my office every year.”
“Thanks, Dad.” It’s decorated with only hand-crafted ornaments from over the years.
Snowflakes. Confetti-and-glitter-filled balls.
Pipe-cleaner candy canes. With the addition of the white-fur-and-red-velvet garland chain and pinecone fairies we added this year.
So many years of ornaments. So many memories.
It’s nice to have them at home instead of at the firm.
“Are the caterers still here?”
“They’re cleaning up.”
“I want to make sure they get their bonuses before they go. Thank you for the food.” He takes the plate and kisses the top of my head before he leaves.
I slide into the chair and resume being hypnotized by the lights and the snow falling in the background. It’s almost too perfect. What was it that Collin said that day in the garage when everything shattered between me and Jonathan?
“Perfection creates its own damage.”
I’ve thought about that a lot. I want to ask him what he meant, exactly.
I mean, I know what it means to me. That nothing is truly perfect.
Sometimes, rotting begins from the inside.
Consider the armor we wear or the smile I’ve perfected.
Inside, I could be screaming. Most times, I’m just checked out, my mind wandering down random lanes of thought. Like now. But no one would know.
I don’t want to be perfect. I mean, I’m not. My family isn’t. But I am lucky. I don’t want to minimize that.
The door clicks shut.
“What are you doing?”
Luck just ran out.
“Nothing.” I don’t acknowledge my brother beyond that. Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.
“Why were you drunk last night?”
I sigh. “Because I drank too much alcohol.”
“Don’t be a smartass.”
“Don’t ask stupid questions.”
Gavin comes up behind the chair and lifts the back legs off the ground, spilling me onto the carpet. He claims the throne, and I release a resigned huff. I cross my legs and lean back against him. He doesn’t kick me like he might’ve a few years ago. Small signs of maturity.
“When was the first time you got drunk?” I ask him, not remembering if I’ve ever met drunk Gavin.
“Last summer.”
“Seriously?” I knew he didn’t drink to excess, but that seems later in life than I expected.
“I don’t like being out of control.”
That’s an understatement.
“Makes sense. Did you have a reason?” I inquire, hoping to make a point.
“Messy ending.” His tone is even and unbothered.
“You were dating someone?” Evidently, it was my summer of oblivion. I wasn’t paying attention to anyone except Jonathan, not that I care what my brother does or who he dates—as long as it’s not one of my friends.
“Wouldn’t say that. It was a summer thing. Got more intense than it should have.”
I often wonder how we’re related. I can’t compartmentalize my feelings the way he does. I can hide them when appropriate, but there’s no avoiding or shutting them off. I don’t know if Gavin’s ever loved someone. Or if love’s about control for him too.
“So, you drank because of some girl. Why are you mad if I did over a guy?” I quickly add, “But I didn’t.”
“How do you know it was over a girl?”
I twist to look up at him. “Are you… messing with me?”
He has a glass of something dark in hand. Probably bourbon. My parents let us have one drink during the holidays. Gavin usually sneaks more.
“Do I have to declare my sexuality to you?”
I shrug. “No. But I don’t want to offend you by assuming anything.”
“You’re not that powerful.”
I make an immature face at him.
“But I’m… open. I don’t know. Nothing to declare really. Girls. Guys. Whatever.”
“Okay,” I say simply and lean back against his legs. I’m not really surprised. Gavin’s always done whatever he wants. Rules may not apply. More anarchist than elitist while still looking aristocratic. That’s a messed-up image now that I’m thinking about it.
“Where did your weird little mind go?”
“You don’t want to know.” Then I consider what I should be asking him. “Have you ever been in a fight?”
My brother is silent. As much as I want to look at him right now, I fight to remain still. And wait.
“Is this a Reeves thing?”
“It’s a why do guys hurt people thing.”
He’s quiet again.
“You should know I’ve never needed my fists to hurt anyone.”
This spins me around. I can’t believe he just said that.
Gavin takes a long draw from the tumbler. His eyes reflect the light from the tree. “Your trees look more chaotic every year.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Regret what?”
“Hurting her?” We’ve never spoken about Danika. He barely recognizes her as one of my friends. But now I need to know. I’m tired of remaining silent.
He leans his head against the worn leather. “I regret that she felt she had to hurt herself because of me.”
“That’s it?” I don’t know what I expected from him. I don’t think he’s apologized for anything his entire life. Screw him. I’d like to tell him that, too, except I need his college brain right now. “Could Dad help her, legally, if he wanted to? You know, against Oren?”
“That’s a criminal matter. So, not until he’s prosecutor, and even then, he wouldn’t handle it directly.
He has associates for that. And from what I know, there were witness statements taken that day, so her account of the details will be supported.
He may not get jail time though. Depends.
But at least a restraining order and probation. ”
“What if she didn’t have witnesses?”
“It’d be messier. Especially with all the times people saw them arguing and her throwing things at him. She’s been known to assault him too. It’d be harder to convince a jury that she’s a victim.”
“Really?” That depresses me, but sadly, doesn’t surprise me. “How do you know so much about their relationship?”
“It’s not a very big town. I still live here even if I never come home. And this isn’t about Danika. It’s about Jonathan and Hal.”
A spike of shock zips through me. “How do you know that?”
“Because I’m smarter than you.”
I turn back around and don’t say anything. The last thing I want is for him to demand I stay away from Jonathan again. Or tell me I’m better off without him.
“No one will believe your boy. Not without a witness.” Gavin stands, kicks my butt and leaves. I’m still stunned that he knows so much, even about this.
I remain on the floor, staring at the lights until they’re a blur of colors. I’m unable to see clearly anymore.
Christmas is our day. The one day of the year it’s just the four of us.
And we’re so sappy about it; we could be a cheesy Christmas movie.
Each year, we wear different matching pajamas and drink hot chocolate.
This year, we’re in red silk sets with white trim, selected by Mom.
Even Gavin. He’s yet to rebel against the tradition.
He doesn’t resist my parents as much as he resists the world.
He cares what they think of him. That’s where we differ.
“Why do you have garland on your head?” my mother asks. “I can’t post pictures of you looking like that.”