green her face is. The panda earmuffs coil around her neck. I hold her short hair back off of her forehead as she leans into the bushes and throws up everything in her stomach, then dry heaves violently. I rub her back and her neck.
“I feel so shitty,” she sobs. “I want Eileen! I want her so bad , Sadie. I want her.”
I put my arms around my sister’s willowy shoulders and my eyes sting until the tears pour out, so many, so fast, they mix together and there’s no way of telling which are hers and which are mine.
“I want her, too, baby. We all do.”
Sobs wrack her thin body for endless minutes, and finally they subside into whines, then dip down into occasional bleating moans.
She balls her fists in my jacket and rubs her head on me, just like she used to when she was little and needed a nap. Suddenly, her full weight falls against my arms, and I hear a long, low snore. Trent crouches by us, eyes red-rimmed.
“She’s out. Let me have her. I’ll take her to bed.”
I let Trent heave my sister in his arms, and I open the front door for him. He wriggles out of his boots quietly and pads up the stairs to Ella’s room. I kick mine off too and follow him. The door creaks when he opens it, but we wait a few seconds, and it doesn’t seem like the noise woke anyone. He lays her on her bed and pulls off her earmuffs and coat. I work her boots off and pull the covers up to her chin.
“Night, Ellie. Love you,” I whisper, and plant a kiss on her forehead.
She moans and burrows her head deeper in her pillows.
Trent and I tiptoe back to the living room. Mom must have come down and put the presents out under the tree while we were gone. There are way too many gifts for all of us. There are more than I’ve seen since those inflated Christmases of my childhood, the ones that left us eating canned spaghetti and beans and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches until March because Mom had blown out the savings account.
Trent reaches down and picks up a green and silver striped rectangle with his name on it.
“Your mom is amazing. You know that, right?”
“I do.”
I sit on the edge of the couch and he walks over and collapses on the cushion next to me, circles my waist with his arms and pulls me back so we’re in a cuddle hold.
“Trent this is a bad—”
“You know why I liked when Danny hung out with us?” he interrupts, flipping me so I’m straddling his lap.
“Why?”
I try not to press closer to him, but it’s like I’m suctioning to him, and don’t have the ability to pull back if I wanted to.
There are a million answers to Trent’s question that make sense. That Danny was fun. That he was crazy. That he was charismatic. That everyone loved Danny because it was like he put everyone he met under his spell and there was no escaping his charm.
“When Danny was around, Georgia was always busy running around after him. That left you wide open.” He reaches up and nuzzles my neck. “I felt like if you just looked over and just noticed me, just for a second, you’d see all the awesomeness I have to offer.”
He pulls back and gives me a slow, sweet grin that’s offset by the nervous flicker in his eyes.
“You are… amazing ,” I whisper, my head swimmy from the many swishes of candycane vodka that managed to slide down my throat. And his hands, now up my back, pulling me closer, short-circuit the connections my brain is so desperately trying to make. “But you know we can’t do this. Again.”
“We’re a little drunk. Everyone we love cried their asses to sleep tonight. It’s Christmas Eve. It doesn’t have to mean anything, Sadie. It can just be one more weird thing in this long, weird night.”
His hands tug me closer, and his lips brush over mine, first soft and light as snowflakes on your skin the second before they melt, then harder, hungrier, deeper.
It’s not because I’m drunk. It’s not because I’m sad or weak or unsure. It’s because I want him, because the last
“I feel so shitty,” she sobs. “I want Eileen! I want her so bad , Sadie. I want her.”
I put my arms around my sister’s willowy shoulders and my eyes sting until the tears pour out, so many, so fast, they mix together and there’s no way of telling which are hers and which are mine.
“I want her, too, baby. We all do.”
Sobs wrack her thin body for endless minutes, and finally they subside into whines, then dip down into occasional bleating moans.
She balls her fists in my jacket and rubs her head on me, just like she used to when she was little and needed a nap. Suddenly, her full weight falls against my arms, and I hear a long, low snore. Trent crouches by us, eyes red-rimmed.
“She’s out. Let me have her. I’ll take her to bed.”
I let Trent heave my sister in his arms, and I open the front door for him. He wriggles out of his boots quietly and pads up the stairs to Ella’s room. I kick mine off too and follow him. The door creaks when he opens it, but we wait a few seconds, and it doesn’t seem like the noise woke anyone. He lays her on her bed and pulls off her earmuffs and coat. I work her boots off and pull the covers up to her chin.
“Night, Ellie. Love you,” I whisper, and plant a kiss on her forehead.
She moans and burrows her head deeper in her pillows.
Trent and I tiptoe back to the living room. Mom must have come down and put the presents out under the tree while we were gone. There are way too many gifts for all of us. There are more than I’ve seen since those inflated Christmases of my childhood, the ones that left us eating canned spaghetti and beans and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches until March because Mom had blown out the savings account.
Trent reaches down and picks up a green and silver striped rectangle with his name on it.
“Your mom is amazing. You know that, right?”
“I do.”
I sit on the edge of the couch and he walks over and collapses on the cushion next to me, circles my waist with his arms and pulls me back so we’re in a cuddle hold.
“Trent this is a bad—”
“You know why I liked when Danny hung out with us?” he interrupts, flipping me so I’m straddling his lap.
“Why?”
I try not to press closer to him, but it’s like I’m suctioning to him, and don’t have the ability to pull back if I wanted to.
There are a million answers to Trent’s question that make sense. That Danny was fun. That he was crazy. That he was charismatic. That everyone loved Danny because it was like he put everyone he met under his spell and there was no escaping his charm.
“When Danny was around, Georgia was always busy running around after him. That left you wide open.” He reaches up and nuzzles my neck. “I felt like if you just looked over and just noticed me, just for a second, you’d see all the awesomeness I have to offer.”
He pulls back and gives me a slow, sweet grin that’s offset by the nervous flicker in his eyes.
“You are… amazing ,” I whisper, my head swimmy from the many swishes of candycane vodka that managed to slide down my throat. And his hands, now up my back, pulling me closer, short-circuit the connections my brain is so desperately trying to make. “But you know we can’t do this. Again.”
“We’re a little drunk. Everyone we love cried their asses to sleep tonight. It’s Christmas Eve. It doesn’t have to mean anything, Sadie. It can just be one more weird thing in this long, weird night.”
His hands tug me closer, and his lips brush over mine, first soft and light as snowflakes on your skin the second before they melt, then harder, hungrier, deeper.
It’s not because I’m drunk. It’s not because I’m sad or weak or unsure. It’s because I want him, because the last
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