Chapter 37
Lou: It’s Christmas on the course—imagine Santa trying to manage this level of dysfunction.
Chuck: Holiday cheer mixed with drama. I wrote it on my Christmas list!
Lou: Who knew the season could be this….unruly?
Chuck: It’s the perfect storm of festivity and fuckery. Now hush and pass me the nog.
The snow crunches under my boots. We woke up to a white Christmas Eve this morning. I’m reminded of how glad I am to be home.
“Do you think this is a good idea?” Paloma fidgets next to me. “I don't want to intrude on your parents' traditions.”
“These aren't just their traditions, they're mine too—which means you are always welcome to be a part of them,” I tell her, and I mean it. I know she’s nervous, but my parents can't wait to meet her.
“Are you sure they're awake?” she asks, pulling at the shirt she’s wearing.
I turn to her, stopping our walk up the driveway before we make it to the stairs. “My parents are early risers and always make Christmas Eve breakfast. We don’t have to go inside, Dove. We can turn around right now.”
“No. No, I want to meet them. I’m just nervous they won’t like me,” she says as she nibbles at the inside of her cheek.
“They are going to love you. Come on, Dove.” Intertwining our fingers, I give her a quick kiss on the forehead and start up the path to my parents’ porch.
The yard may have a dusting of snow, but from the looks of it, Dad must have swept the steps off this morning and salted the driveway; they’re clear for guests.
No matter how old he gets, he always finds the time to maintain his yard.
My hand connects with the door a couple times before my mom's bright smile fills my sight.
I open my arms to give her a hug, but she darts past me and envelops Paloma in a hug.
The hug I swore was meant for me, and the thought of it warms me.
“You are so beautiful,” my mom says, holding Paloma at arm's length as she looks her over.
“Thank you, Mrs. Morrison. Merry Christmas.” Paloma smiles. I watch her take a deep breath as she realizes she is welcome here.
“I won't have any of that Mrs. Morrison nonsense. You can call me Marie or Mama. You’re family,” she declares before looping her arm within Paloma’s. “Are you hungry? Let’s get you fed.”
Mom looks up at me with a beaming smile on her face and leans her cheek to me.
I promptly kiss it, and she pulls Paloma off into the house with her.
Sel and Auntie Leshia are already here, sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace.
I look toward Dad’s recliner, finding the spot empty.
Dad must be in his man cave or pulling out some last minute decorations Mom asked him to grab.
I give both Selene and my aunt a hug before making my way into the kitchen.
Old-school Kirk Franklin plays through the speakers with all my mom’s favorite Christmas songs.
I snatch up a cookie from the counter, stuffing it into my mouth before she catches me.
Luckily, she’s busy pouring Paloma a mug of hot chocolate, and I sneak another for safe measure or in case I run into my dad.
“Clinton Anton Morrison! Get your hands out of those cookies!” Mom says, and I’m already making my way up the stairs. She can't stop me if she can't catch me. I laugh to myself, just like when I was a kid.
I thump my knuckle against the door and open it, not waiting for him to respond because I know he is in here. “Dad! Merry Christmas,” I shout, happy to see him. “I braved Mama’s wrath and snuck you a cookie.”
He chuckles and grabs the pilfered cookie. As he takes a bite he reaches for me, pulling me in for a hug. Even in his old age, he’s still strong.
“You brought your girl with you?” he asks, getting right into it.
“I did. She’s downstairs with Mom.” My dad nods his head, and I wonder what’s on his mind. My dad is a man of few words, but what he does say tends to stick with you. He also doesn't ask many questions unless he's actually interested.
“You’ve never, in all your years, brought a girl over. She’s someone special, isn't she?” he asks.
I respond quickly, “Yes, sir. She is.”
“You plan on making an honest woman out of her?” His question actually surprises me, and though the answer is a clear and resounding yes, I still wasn't expecting him to ask me.
“I do. I don't want to spend another day without her by my side.”
“Then you make sure to consider that during every disagreement and every frustration. If your goal is to always be standing by her side, then you have to remember seeing eye to eye is important. And treat each other with respect, and most of all, understand that love is strong when nurtured.” He’s quiet for a few moments and then continues, “You nurture each other even in famine. You understand?”
“I understand,” I reply. “I wasn't expecting to have this talk with my dad at forty years old.”
“We all need a good talkin’ to every now and then, son.” He smiles and stands, clapping his hand on my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Clinton. I want to meet her.”
I follow behind his hulking frame, one which is slightly thinner than what it used to be, to introduce him to my future.
Paloma, Mom, Selene, and Auntie Leshia all sit around the breakfast table, chatting amongst each other. Seeing Paloma in my parents’ house, it feels like she’s always belonged here with us, with me. “I'll be right back. I’m going to grab a few things from the car,” I shout.
Sel’s head whips around, and she looks me over with slanted eyes. I can almost hear her in my head, Don't you dare propose to her on Christmas.
To which I shoot back at her with my own look that says, I won't. Not yet anyway.
I bought the ring a couple months ago. It felt right.
Paloma and I are in a good place, and I know she is it for me.
I picked the ring up when Sel and I bought the earrings.
She just didn't know. All she knew was I was getting Paloma a gift.
Grabbing the few bags and boxes from the trunk, I walk back inside and set them under the tree.
We normally exchange gifts later in the evening, however, Paloma and I are going to spend Nochebuena with her mom.
When I explained to my family what it meant, there were no questions, and they understood, which leads me here, nestling a few more gifts under the tree so we can open them during breakfast.
After too many buttery pancakes and slices of bacon, Sel lowers herself to look at the presents on the floor and crosses her legs. “Here, Clint, this one is for my mom, and this is for Unc.” A warm smile graces my face as I continue to take each gift from her hands and pass them out to everyone.
I turn back to Sel and say, “Let me help you up.” I stretch out my hand, helping her up as she hands me another gift. I tuck the small box beneath my arm, noticing the paper I wrapped it in.
“Boy, no you didn’t.” My mom lets out a joyful shout as she unwraps the expensive juicer. “I can’t believe you got this for me.”
“Mom, you know you sent me the link, right?” I chuckle as she tries to force a scowl from her beaming face, which only makes me laugh harder.
By the time I turn back to my dad, he’s grinning ear to ear as he holds out the signed jacket from his favorite PGA golfer—aside from me—and he already has on the Rolex Selene must have gifted him.
“Welcome to the family,” Selene says, heaving out a heavy, wrapped gift to Paloma. She must have had it sitting right next to her. Sel isn’t one to go in half-cocked, so I know this is going to be perfect for my girl.
“Thank you so much. You didn't have to,” Paloma says, beaming as she begins to unwrap her gift. Her gasp has my eyes flicking up to her face. “Stop it right now!”
A collector’s edition set of books has her eyes watering. She blinks away tears and gets up from the couch to pull my cousin into a hug. “I don't know how you knew, but thank you. Thank you so much.” I can already see the two of them becoming fast friends.
I grab the wrapped box next to me and turn toward Paloma to hand it to her to realize she’s doing the same. Her cheeks are full as she smiles at me. “Don’t think I forgot about you, Golf Daddy,” she whispers my nickname. “Oh, is that for me?”
“As a matter of fact it is, Dove. You got me something too?” I ask her, surprised she somehow found the time and excited to see what she could have possibly gotten for me.
“Yeah, open it,” she urges, and watches as my eyes drift to the gift I gave her. “I’ll open my gift right after.” She giggles. “But I need to see your face.”
I relent and take the large box from her.
It’s not heavy given its size, which makes me even more intrigued.
Ripping off the wrapping paper like a big kid, I make quick work of pulling open the folded sides and pull free a framed map.
When I look closely, its two golf course maps, one overlaid on the other, each in different colors.
The green is of the Green Clove course in Ireland, the course that changed my life.
The burgundy linework follows all eighteen holes of the Mossy Oaks course, the one that made me the golfer I am today.
I can feel my eyes begin to tear up, and then I notice on the bottom right corner Our Mulligan is written in calligraphy.
My glassy eyes lock with hers, and she’s teary-eyed as well. These two courses mean so much to me, and I don’t know how she came up with this concept, but the thought behind this gift makes me fall deeper in love with her.
“Do you like it?” she speaks gently, reaching over to hold my hand.
“It’s incredible, baby. I love it,” I reply, giving her fingers a squeeze. “Now open yours.”
She nods and releases my hand to open her gift. Paloma takes in a breath as she pulls out the deep red box of Tom Ford parfum. “I’ve wanted this for so long, but I refused to buy it.”