day. That is what I keep telling myself. It’s only a moment—a blip in time.
The needle inserts into my hip, and I wince with the sting of pain. This, too, is only a moment. It’s temporary. It’s a task, another day, leading to something greater that’s worth more than anything else.
“Sorry,” Elle says. The sting from the needle turns into the burn of medication.
She extracts it and hands the syringe to me, the needle uncapped. I slide the lock in place and shove it into the durable plastic container that the pharmacy gave me.
I hold a cotton ball over the injection site, keeping my face as relaxed as possible.
“Thanks,” I say to her. “I’ll be out in a second.”
She leaves, shutting the bathroom door behind her.
Silence fills the tiny space. I lean against the gray counter. I’ve imagined this moment so many times, but never this way, under these circumstances, without Camden.
Still, I’m full of hope.
Next Christmas, no matter how exhausted and overworked I am, I’ll be in front of a decorated tree with a beautiful baby, counting all my blessings.
Next Christmas…
My phone vibrates, and I jump, my nerves pricking under my skin. It’s my father.
“What, Larry?” I say as I answer, annoyed.
“Merry Christmas, Darling.” His tone is always the same: condescending and self-righteous.
“Merry Christmas,” I mumble.
“Do you think that you could come see your old man today?” he asks, as if he wants to see me on a holiday—enjoy a family meal.
“Umm…”
“It would be great if you could,” he says. “Let bygones be…”
“Be what? Let bygones be a money-delivering daughter … or you’ll tell everyone my dirty little secret?”
My heart thuds. I think of the manilla envelope Elle left under my pillow last night. It held her entire split, thirty-two thousand dollars. I could bring Larry his money …
I spent years trying to fill the void he left, and even more years trying to rebuild a relationship with him. Buy his silence. Buy his love.
The only thing that I gained was his greed.
“I was going to let you pass with fifteen hundred, even though you know how this works. More time, more interest. With that attitude, I’m feeling the holiday spirit less.”
My mouth falls open. Still the same father.
“Double or nothing,” he says with a cackle. “Three thousand, or we bust your secrets wide open.”
My free hand forms a fist. I close my eyes and take a slow, steady breath.
“Double or nothing, huh? That sounds good to me,” I say, my voice steady and methodical. “How much money have I given you over the years? Fifty grand? One hundred grand?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” His voice is full of delight. He thinks I’m going to try to pay him off permanently.
Thanks to Elle, I know that’s not the only option.
“What would you say that you’ve invested that money in, Larry? Stocks? Bonds?”
He laughs. “Hardly.”
“Hmm … hardly. Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“What are you getting at?” he asks, growing weary.
“I’ll take double or nothing. Let’s say you write me a check for, what?” I shrug at my reflection. “Let’s make it one-fifty. That seems fair. Though I’d be happy to get the bank statements out and do the math if you’d prefer.”
“Or what?” he snarls into the phone.
“Or, I suppose I could have a conversation with the police. I’m sure they’d be thrilled to find out about your scams. Your tax evasion. The years of alimony and child support you skipped out on. The thing is, when they know where to find you, they can come after you.”
I watch myself in the mirror as my lips twitch up into a grin.
“I don’t want to have to do this,” he says, wavering in his voice, “but I’ll have to pay your mom a visit, and stop by your house, tell Camden about—”
“Go ahead, Larry. Tell whoever you want. I’m done playing games. I’m done trying to hide from the person I’ve always wanted to be.”
There’s a stammering on the other end of the phone. He’s fresh out of ideas for how to corner me.
“Larry.” My voice is stern.
“Yes?” he asks in a strained tone.
“Don’t fucking call me again.”
I slam the phone down, then pick it back up and turn it off. Taking several deep, slow, breaths, the red on my cheeks dissipates.
With some reluctance, I compose myself and join the lovebirds in the living room. It’s amazing how they’ve been married for over a decade, and yet they look at each other in a way that I’ve never seen—so in love, so unwavering despite everything.
They don’t have any presents under the tree, only a wooden chessboard. None of that seems to matter to them.
Elle stands, grabbing an envelope from the side table. She hands it to me. The bulk is heavy.
“A gift,” she says.
My hands shake, making the envelope quiver.
She taps the envelope, then sinks back into the couch next to Zane.
Sliding my finger under the flap of the envelope, I slowly open it. The object inside is tightly wrapped in tissue paper. It unravels with some effort, revealing a necklace. The gold cross with an emerald in the center.
Perplexed, I lower onto the couch.
“Oh, I don’t need this any—”
“It’s the real one,” Elle says.
My heart pounds.
“But—”
“That necklace means a lot to me. My mother gave it to me when I was twelve. It was a reminder that she’d always be with me, no matter what. I think she gave it to me when I told her how cruel the girls at school were. It ended up carrying me through far worse times. Now it’s yours. To pull you through yours.”
I search her eyes. Guilt wraps its tentacles around me.
“It’s your family heirloom,” I protest, unable to come up with another rejection.
“And you are family. Our family,” she says with finality. “Just don’t go out and sell it. Again…”
“Thank you,” I squeak. “I … I have something for you, too.”
I clasp the chain around my neck, then stand and scurry to their guest room. The closet door slides back under my light touch, and I untuck the large jewelry box from underneath a blanket.
Returning to the living room, I hold it out to Elle. She slips out from under Zane’s arm, her eyes wide.
I hope it’s everything that I owe her.
She hesitates before finally taking it from me. Elle opens it and dumps the contents onto the coffee table in front of her. A bracelet falls on the floor, and I snatch it up, setting it gently on the tabletop.
“What are you doing?” Zane asks her, touching her arm with concern etched on his face.
Elle holds a finger up. Her gaze doesn’t leave the box. She runs her hand along the inside. There’s a rip as she separates the velvet fabric from the interior.
“Elle,” I snap. “Why are you destroying…”
Her eyes widen as she extracts a key taped to a tiny note. She springs from her seat, and in one swift motion, she has her arms wrapped around me, squeezing me tight.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For everything.”