Chapter Twenty-Seven December 25
Chapter Twenty-seven
Mom and Georgie are in the kitchen preparing brunch while I take care of the aftermath of present opening in the family room.
Georgie spent the night back in her old bedroom with Zach and Paulie so we could all celebrate Christmas morning together.
Zach’s trying to put Paulie down for a nap before they go to his parents’ house.
It’s been nice having Georgie here overnight, even if it means Zach’s here, too.
I’ve come to accept that he’s part of the deal now.
It’s not that I don’t like him. He’s Paulie’s dad and my sister’s husband (as weird as that still is to say).
But I can’t help sometimes looking at Zach and seeing him as the person who disrupted our flow. And that’s putting it mildly.
“Lennon.” Dad sits on the couch and watches me tidy, my arms filling up with all the paper and mess, mostly from Paulie’s presents. “Come here,” he says softly. “Put all that down. It can wait.”
I do as he says and sit next to him. “What is it?”
“I have another present for you.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Instead of being excited, I swallow down the pit rising up my consistently tight esophagus. “You’ve been working hard in school and I’m proud of you. An 86 on your Calculus midterm report is very impressive.”
It is. I busted my ass to get that grade. It helps having a boyfriend very skilled in mathematics. But it’s not lost on me that my father didn’t point out my 96 in English, my 88 in Biology, or my 91 in Music.
Well-rounded. It’s what I aim to be. For them. But it doesn’t come naturally. My profile, like that of many autistic people, is spiky. I excel where I excel, and I struggle when I don’t care about the subject matter. Unfortunately for me, I don’t have the option of not caring.
I know I’d be so much happier if I could focus all my attention on my actual passions.
Master them, instead of spending my energy trying to find solutions to complex equations in Calculus.
But I also understand that my life is not just my own.
So I play along, as best I can. Some days are easier than others.
“You really want to go on that school trip to New York, yes?” Dad asks before bringing a small espresso cup to his mouth.
I become lit from within at his question.
I’ve been asking my parents for their permission to attend at least once a day since the end of October, only to hear “We’ll see.
” I half expected they’d give me their blessing on my sixteenth birthday earlier this month.
When they didn’t, I almost gave up all hope.
“Yes. More than life itself,” I say, sucking in my lips to stop myself from saying everything else I want to say. They don’t know yet about my dream to study at Columbia University. I figure one devastating upset at a time.
“We’re going to let you go,” he says, and before he can even finish smiling, my arms are draped around his neck and I’m covering his cheeks in kisses.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
He pats me on the back with his free hand and says, “You’ve earned it. You’re a good girl.”
The light from within dims at his words and I pull away. I don’t want him to see how those words deflate me, so I nod, forcing another smile to come through before I return to cleaning the mess at our feet.
Theo’s mother went all out for Christmas dinner.
Fireplace. Music. A roasted lamb with every imaginable side.
I regret not wearing stretchy pants, but Mom made us dress up.
Like, really dress up. I’m in a dark green dress with a pleated skirt and long sleeves and black stockings.
My parents, who are also overdressed, are in the kitchen helping Petra clean.
Theo made up a story about wanting to show me his new gaming system in the basement, and Dad’s clearly had one too many alcohol-infused eggnogs because he doesn’t flinch as Theo takes my hand. We disappear together, almost giddy.
“Did I tell you how adorable you look in your Christmas dress, Hadid?” Theo says once we reach the bottom of the basement steps.
“I just want to unwrap you right here.” There’s a deep hunger in his eyes as his cute words transform into something more R-rated.
He kisses me passionately, and almost immediately his hands are under my dress.
“Our parents are upstairs,” I say as his lips trace my neck. I don’t push him away even though I know I should.
We stumble to the couch and he flicks on the TV and gaming system. He sits first and I straddle him, our lips never leaving each other’s. Being here, alone, after having to sit through dinner on our best behavior, is the exact release we both need.
He runs his fingers through my hair, his kisses like tiny bites up and down my neck and shoulders. He pulls me in even closer, his hands under my dress again, trying to remove the layers between us. When he attempts to pull my stockings down, I stop him.
“Clothes stay on. Parents upstairs,” I say almost breathlessly as I return my lips to his.
But he pulls away, exhaling an annoyed breath. His jaw clenches, body stiff as his arms fall to his sides. I slink off him, sitting on the cold spot to his left.
“I’m getting really tired of having to finish the job myself,” he says, his tone sharp. Harsh almost.
“Are you serious right now? It’s Christmas. Can you take one day off from thinking about sex?”
“And what will tomorrow’s excuse be? It’s Boxing Day? Then it’s New Year’s Eve? It’s Tuesday? I thought we were both ready to move beyond this,” he says, waving his hand between us.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” My arms are crossed over my chest now as Theo adjusts his crotch.
“I’ve been patiently waiting for you to be ready, and I thought when you turned sixteen you would be.”
“Why? Did you think there’d be some chip inside me that would activate at 12:00 a.m. on December eighth to spread my legs open?”
He gets up and paces behind the couch. Footsteps from the floor above. Chairs being pulled out or tucked in. A toilet flushing. Instinctively, I straighten myself out. Just in case.
Theo comes back around, sits next to me, and takes my hand.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” he says, his voice soft now.
“We’ve been together almost five months.
We’ve known each other forever. Our families are close.
I’m not going to use you and walk away. I’m in this, Lennon.
For the long haul.” He leans in and says more quietly.
“We’ve done everything else. Why can’t we do this? ”
My eyes squeeze shut as I release a breath through my nostrils. “The way I feel about you is not contingent on whether we have sex. I wish you could see that.”
“I wish you could see how much I want to be with you.”
“I understand,” I say, turning to look at him. “I do. I’m just not sure that this next step makes sense for us.”
“Why not?” he asks, brows furrowed. “Are you planning on going somewhere?”
“No. But you are. You’re graduating in six months and you’ve applied to schools all at least two hours away. If we sleep together, I’m only going to grow more attached, and for what? All so you can leave?”
He shimmies closer, grabbing my other hand and holding it even tighter. “No. I won’t leave you. We’ll stay together.”
“You can’t promise that. You’re moving away for school and I’m…” I pause, sighing. “I haven’t told you this yet, but I’m hoping to study in New York.”
He pulls back slightly. “New York? Do your parents know?”
“Not yet. But I’m working on them. The trip is step one.”
He releases a deep laugh, obvious relief flooding his face. “Good luck with that.”
Anger pulses through me as I rip my hands away from his.
“So it’s okay for you to consider schools as far away as B.C.
, but you expect me to stay put, waiting for you?
You can’t even handle me being here and not having sex with you.
Am I supposed to believe you’ll actually abstain once you move away? Let’s be real.”
“Why would you think anything else?” he asks, legitimately perplexed.
“Because everything comes back to sex. You’re not going to be able to stay loyal to me for four years while you’re wherever you are and I’m…wherever I end up. And I don’t expect you to. Which is why I don’t think it makes sense for us to do that.”
“So what’re we doing, then?” he asks.
“To be honest, right now, I don’t know.”
His face contorts, like I just said the worst thing possible. I probably did. But it was the truth.
Our relationship since October has been a series of passive-aggressive comments, followed by bigger disagreements, followed by making up. Over and over. It makes me understand a bit more why John and Avery stayed together as long as they did.
The basement door opens, and heavy footsteps come down the unfinished stairs. Theo and I move away from one another on instinct.
“Everything okay down here?” Dad asks, his eyes flicking to Theo, then me. “I thought I heard yelling.”
Theo turns to my father and switches into his altar boy persona. “I was just showing off the sound system.” He nods to the console, his eyes seeking mine for the briefest of moments; I can see that he’s still hurt by my words.
“Let me see that,” Dad says, sitting next to Theo.
I get up from the couch and sit on a chair and unlock my phone. There are messages from Georgie complaining about her mother-in-law’s cooking. A pic from Andie posing with her new boyfriend, Reid. And a text from John.
John.
My heart pounds against my chest as I open it, my dad and Theo just feet away.
John: Merry Christmas, Lennon. I hope it’s a good one and you get everything you want.
John: Also, happy belated birthday. Sorry I didn’t say it sooner.
I reply immediately.
Me: Merry Christmas. And thanks. Was Santa good to you?
The three dots appear and my heart races.
John: Yeah. My entire family together. Dad’s sober. It’s been pretty much perfect.
John: Except for one thing.
My throat catches, and I glance up at my father and Theo, lost in some video game.
“Lennon,” Dad’s voice calls out after what could be seconds or minutes.
“What?” I shoot back, prying my eyes off my phone screen.
“We should get one of these, yeah?” Dad asks.
I watch my father and Theo playing a video game together and the pit in my stomach grows bigger.
If Theo and I break up, how would it play out?
Our lives are so intertwined. The fact is, my dad has been nicer to me since Theo and I started dating officially.
For some odd reason, he trusts me more. Allows me more freedom.
Theo is probably the reason my father agreed to New York.
There are advantages to Theo being my boyfriend.
And then there are disadvantages.
The number one being: he’s not John.
It’s not fair for me to keep stringing Theo along when my heart so clearly belongs to someone else. The reason I don’t want to have sex with Theo isn’t because he’s going to be moving away. It’s because I don’t want it to be him.
I close my message with John and open my text window with Theo and type:
Me: We need to talk.