Twenty-Two

The evening passed in a flash, thanks to Claire’s late arrival. The whole family had eaten a few hours before she arrived, a fact that they were all apologetic about, though Claire assured them that she didn’t mind.

“I ate on the plane, I promise,” she said, eyeballing the spread her mom had left arranged on the countertop, “but if you all don’t mind watching, I’ll definitely take a second meal. Believe it or not, Mom, this looks way better than airplane food.”

Laura swatted her lightly with a kitchen towel. “It wasn’t just me. Alison and Trish brought all the veggies.”

“Alright then.” Claire gave an impressed nod, taking a little bit of everything on her plate, despite the faint protestations of her stomach that was both disoriented by the time zone change and still discombobulated from all the pressure changes of takeoff and landing.

The kids were in the living room, watching a Christmas movie and eating popcorn under the watchful eyes of their mothers, who had to intervene a time or two to ensure that Pepper, the family dog, didn’t end up eating more popcorn than both children combined. Claire joined the rest of her family at the dining room table, the open living room-dining room combination still keeping them all together despite the difference in mealtime activities.

“So,” began Laura, “tell us all about your trip!” She gestured to Claire’s plate. “I mean between bites, of course.” She pulled a face. “Sorry. Want me to tell you about our day instead?”

Claire nodded as she chewed a mouthful of Brussels sprouts. “Please do,” she said, when she had swallowed. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Claire Bear mentioned something about a new friend she made in Munich,” said Doug, his eyes twinkling and his eyebrows climbing his forehead. “And apparently he’s from New Jersey. What do you all think about that?”

“I’d like to know more!” called Trish from the living room, before shooting Claire an apologetic look. “Sorry, Claire. I’m just…a sucker for a good holiday meet cute, I guess.”

“It’s true,” chimed in Alison with a serious nod before darting a look in the direction of the kids, whose attention was focused on the movie, but could be diverted without even a moment’s notice. “Of course, if it’s not a kid-friendly story, can we save it until these two conk out?”

Claire closed her eyes and shook her head. “This is what I get for telling the biggest gossip of the family my juicy news.” She opened her eyes to level a playful glare at her dad. “Anyway, it’s too soon to say what it is, but I did make a new friend and we did have a fun time together.” She shrugged. “I’m going to meet up with him in a couple days, so maybe I can tell you more after that. I might see him again on this side of the Atlantic and realize I made the whole thing up.”

“Oh, please.” Jeremy scoffed. “Claire, you write love stories for a living. Surely you aren’t impressionable enough to develop a crush on someone simply for being in the right place at the right time. I doubt very much that there are any rose-colored glasses that are about to fall off and reveal an ugly truth to you.”

Claire was quiet after that, as the rest of her family chuckled and raised their eyebrows at Jeremy’s comments before changing the subject. What could you say in response to such wisdom? But that was Jeremy…quiet, most of the time, but when he did have something to share, he was more than happy to do so, no filter needed.

The kids went to sleep soon after, with promises of full stockings and presents under the tree, making it almost impossible for them to close their little eyes and settle in for the night. Claire had joined Trish for the bedtime routine at Amelia’s request, flipping through the pages of an old copy of The Night Before Christmas that had been in the Davis family at least since Claire had been the same age as the kids.

As Wendy’s yawns became more frequent and Amelia couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, Trish nodded towards the door and she and Claire tiptoed out of the room, switching off the light on their way before closing the door almost the whole way.

They walked down the stairs to rejoin the rest of the family, and Trish leaned towards Claire, dropping her voice. “We’re all really glad to see you, even Alison. I know she doesn’t always express it that well, but she really does care about you.”

It was all Claire could do to stop herself from scoffing. Warm fuzzy feelings between herself and her older sister hadn’t exactly been in abundance since they were teenagers. It wasn’t as if either of them were to blame, Claire knew, but simply that such differences in personality and disposition weren’t exactly conducive to a blossoming friendship. If they weren’t related, they wouldn’t even know each other, that much was clear. Alison would be immersed in her work, her mission to singlehandedly eradicate housing inequality, and Claire would still be playing around with her “stories,” devoting too much of her time to an endeavor that Alison considered a nice hobby at best, but not something you could trot out at dinner parties and expect to impress anyone.

It would be one thing if those were simply Claire’s ideas of what her sister thought of her. If that were the case, then maybe she could talk herself out of it with some nice affirmations, maybe even reading a few positive reviews of her bestsellers.

But the unsurmountable obstacle between them was probably the fact that every terrible thing Alison thought about Claire, she had said to her on one particularly eventful Thanksgiving.

It had been a few years prior, the year before Alison and Trish got married, and whether it was fueled by too much to drink or pre-wedding nerves or a third thing that Claire couldn’t even fathom, once the words had come out, they couldn’t be unsaid. Claire had made a point of booking publicity-related travel in late November and early December ever since, though this was the closest she had ever come to missing Christmas.

She gave Trish a small smile and the barest of nods. “I’m glad you’re all here,” she said, hoping that how strongly she meant it about the kids could cover over the awkward feelings between herself and Alison. All she needed to do was get through these few days, and then they would go back to their own worlds, their own lack of communication and sharing. The family group text chain, where birthday wishes and holiday greetings were shared, was just about enough as far as Claire was concerned.

Unless she thought about the way things had been before. Back when she and Alison were kids, living at home and sharing their disparate wardrobes and talking about everything under the sun. Alison would give Claire advice about the classes—and tips about how to impress the teachers—she had taken three years prior, and Claire was always a captive audience when Alison was reviewing flashcards or practicing for a debate.

Things change, Claire thought to herself as she slipped onto the couch next to her mom, who was crocheting what appeared to be a sweater for one of the children. I can appreciate the relationship Alison and I had without expecting we can ever get back to it.

Jeremy was setting up the chess board, waiting for Doug, who was making cups of tea—Earl Grey for Alison and peppermint for everyone else, if Claire had to guess—in the kitchen.

Claire glanced at her phone, willing it to show her a message from Jack, some inside joke or a selfie with Alison or a note about how much he missed her, but there was nothing there, and she didn’t want to be the first one to reach out after their arrival back in the US. Not yet, at least. If she hadn’t heard from him by the next evening, she would send a message just to make sure they were still on for the meeting.

When she dropped her phone in her lap, she looked up to find Alison looking at her, her expression unreadable. Claire held her gaze for a moment, seeing something there that opened up a question in her mind. There was a vulnerability, something that looked almost like longing. But no, that couldn’t be it. Claire darted her gaze away, focusing her attention on her mom.

“Should I put on some music? A movie? Something in the background?”

There were glances exchanged around the room, and Claire had the feeling that they all knew something she didn’t. Had they been talking about her while she was gone? Frustration threatened to bubble up, but she shoved it down. Now wasn’t the time to make a scene, and in fact, was there ever a time for that? Far better to just leave things alone and process it later with Emma. Emma was a safe person to be vulnerable with. Alison? Not so much. Not anymore. 

“What’s up, guys?” Claire asked. “Something to share with the rest of the class?”

Naturally, Jeremy was the first to speak up. “They were all talking about you today.” He pointed at their parents and Alison. “Concerns about your future plans, stability, blah blah blah. I wasn’t totally listening, but I heard enough to get the gist of it.” He nodded at their older sister. “Go on, then. If now’s the time to have an intervention, then intervene away.”

But before Alison could speak, Claire’s words poured out of her. “Are you kidding me? Of all the times, when I just finished an international book tour, you have the audacity to express…what? A concern about my 401K? My retirement account?” She exhaled an indignant sigh. “You have some nerve, Alison, to act like you care at all what happens to me.” She shook her head, disappointment and frustration coursing through her veins even as a voice was screaming at her in the back of her mind to stop, to not ruin Christmas, to not say what couldn’t be unsaid. “You barely talk to me, you don’t care even the tiniest bit about my life or my happiness…but some illusion of financial security? That’s what matters to you? Please. It’s just an excuse to show how, once again, you come out on top. I’m a failure, and you’re the golden child. But spoiler alert, Alison: that’s not new information. We all already knew that.”

There was a stunned silence when Claire finished speaking, before all of her family members rushed to respond at once.

“Claire Bear—”

“Honey, no—”

“That’s not—”

But she didn’t want to hear any of it. Not now, and possibly not ever. Claire got to her feet, raising a hand. “I probably shouldn’t have said all of that. I’m tired and jet lagged and I have no filter. Just…just forget I said it.” She gave a weak smile, knowing it looked just as insincere as it felt. “Have a good night, everyone. Here’s hoping I’ll wake up in the morning with a personality transplant.”

No one laughed at her weak joke, but they gave her tentative smiles and soft wishes to sleep well and have sweet dreams as she made her exit from the room.

When Claire closed the door to her childhood bedroom behind her, she slid down the length of it to sit on the floor, overcome by the shame of her outburst and the embarrassment about Alison’s concerns. Her family didn’t even know how accurate those concerns were. She hadn’t so much as hinted at the tumultuous future of Velvet Leaf Publishing, and if she had been afraid of what their reactions might be, now she had confirmation that it was even worse than she had feared.

Parents—and even older siblings, apparently—just wanted to know that their children were okay, were going to be set for the future because they had made good financial decisions and actually thought about their futures. That wasn’t going to be the case for Laura and Doug Davis, though. Their daughter—their middle child, Claire thought with scorn, as if her birth order was the reason for her impending failure—had chosen a creative career, so disillusioned and disconnected from the real world as to believe that such a thing was possible.

She was tempted, for just a moment, to blame her parents. How dare they let her believe in this elaborate fantasy of hers? Why hadn’t they insisted she study business or engineering or medicine at school rather than that overpriced and unnecessary English degree?

But she knew it wasn’t their fault. She would have always fought for her impractical career, had always ignored any advice to the contrary. She’d had the persistent belief that things were going to work out for so long that it was only lately that she had realized just how dangerous that was. All of her eggs were firmly in the basket of books and writing and Velvet Leaf, and that basket wasn’t even in her own control.

Claire sighed as she mustered just enough energy to flop herself onto the bed, still in the clothes she had worn while traveling. The realization that she was wearing “outside clothes” on top of her blanket made her want to text Jack so badly that she couldn’t ignore the impulse. Regardless of whatever she had told herself shortly before, she grabbed her phone and fired off the message.

“I miss you. Let’s do the cliche thing and meet on the observation deck of the Empire State Building. I could use the mood boost. Meet there at ten?”

Clare dropped the phone on the nightstand, groaning at the realization that she would have to get on her feet again to switch off the light. She was suddenly so tired that it felt impossible. She took off one sock and balled it up as tightly as she could, then flung it at the light switch.

Nothing.

She repeated the process with her next sock, managing to hit light switch this time, but the light kept shining brightly. Claire groaned as she got to her feet and shuffled across the room. She couldn’t even turn off a light from the other side of the room, which suddenly felt like nearly as colossal a failure as her soon-to-be-sunk career.

Once she was in darkness, lying on her back and staring at the nothingness above her, Claire felt an almost crushing sense of loneliness. It was bad enough that no one in her family really understood her, but to have them voicing her own fears out loud to her as failures? It was almost too much. 

She briefly contemplated getting dressed again and ordering a taxi to take her to her apartment, disappearing into what was surely a cave of dust and clutter that would perfectly match how she was feeling on the inside.

But just because her Christmas was ruined, did she have to ruin it for her mom, too? After all, Laura hadn’t been the one expressing her “concerns” with such “care.” It hadn’t been her dad or her brother, either. And Trish was innocent. So were the kids. It was only Alison who deserved any kind of punishment, and Claire wasn’t petty enough—or at this moment, she wasn’t awake enough—to be the one to give it to her.

Tomorrow will be a new day, she thought as she rolled over, tucking into her pillow. Maybe it’ll be better. 

She reached for her phone, checking to see if there was a response from Jack, a message she had missed in her efforts to turn off the light with as little energy as possible. 

As it turned out, he had “liked” her message with a heart, but…she opened the message to check. No, he hadn’t said a word. A little cartoon heart was all she had gotten from him. She tossed the phone onto the carpet, letting it slide out of her reach. 

She knew it was ridiculous to wish Jack would have said just the perfect words to make her feel better about a situation he wasn’t even aware of, but it was her right to be as ridiculous as she wanted to be when her career, her family, and the wall she had firmly in place to keep the two apart were all crumbling.