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CHRISTMAS WISHES

DECEMBER 25, 2009 – 20 YEARS OLD

Faye sits at the island with Mom and Candace, nursing a hot chocolate loaded with whipping cream and topped with mini marshmallows. She’s always had a sweet tooth and pregnancy has done nothing to dampen it.

I’ve had a hard time taking my eyes from her tonight. She woke early, and instantly began fretting about what she was going to wear. She spent hours in her room while I spent hours sitting on the couch waiting for her. When she appeared—just wow.

Faye took time to curl her hair in big waves that tumble down her back, pinning her bangs back with a shimmery gold clasp at the back of her head. Her makeup is subtle, and her lips are pink and glossy and really hard not to kiss. She’s wearing a red long sleeve dress and black stockings—and her bump is showing.

She’d looked so nervous when she’d entered the living room earlier. I really have no idea why, though. She took my breath away and I’ve been struggling to find it since.

“Beer, Tate?” Mom offers as she pulls two for Dad and Doug from the fridge.

I shake my head. I already had one with dinner, and though Mom offered, I don’t want to stay the night. Dad isn’t entirely okay with us yet, though he’s trying. Staying here would make Faye uncomfortable. She could go home to her parent’s, but then I’d miss her being close.

No, I’m driving us home.

Faye peeks at me, and then her eyes darken as she looks past me to the TV. Dad’s manning the remote, and I look over my shoulder to see he’s switched on a rerun of Holt’s most recent game.

“Herman—” Mom protests, but Faye stands.

“No, it’s okay. I want to watch, too.” She moves to the couch, avoiding looking at me as she does.

She settles into the cushion, her arms hugging around her middle as though she’s trying to contain the pieces of her I’ve been working so diligently at fitting back together. The pieces that survived the wreckage of her and Holt—just barely.

I can feel Mom and Candy looking at me with caution. I know Dad is making a test out of this moment, though I’m not sure what the test is, exactly.

It doesn’t matter either way. What matters is Faye.

She is all that matters.

I move to the couch, lowering to it beside her. I drop my arm around her shoulders and breathe a breath of relief when she snuggles in close, but the tension doesn’t entirely leave her body. It doesn’t leave throughout the entirety of the game, even though she cheers for Holt.

But midway through the game, her hand finds mine and holds it tightly.

She couldn’t possibly know that her grip is just as tight around my heart.

Finally, the game comes to an end, and we rise together.

“I didn’t expect you to sit through that,” Dad says.

Doug frowns, but he says nothing.

I pull Faye close again. “We watch all Holt’s games.”

Faye nods beside me. She doesn’t know I know how she watches every single one. She doesn’t know how I know she cheers for his every win and aches with his every loss. She doesn’t know that I know she wants him to become everything he’s ever dreamed of becoming—because if he doesn’t become all that, then her sacrifice has been wasted.

And I think that would kill her, so I cheer for him, too.

I cheer for my little brother’s dreams and successes not only because I want him to have all he wants, but because I love the woman who carries him in her heart, and I can’t bear the idea that she’s hurting—that she could ever regret me.

Dad nods more to himself than us. “Good to hear.”

“I’m sorry, Herman,” Faye chokes out. “I’m so sorry for hurting everyone.”

Dad’s eyes pin her to the spot before he sighs a big sigh. He opens his arms wide, and Faye cautiously moves forward into the circle he closes around her.

“I don’t hate you, Faye. I’ve always known you’d be the girl I’d call daughter. I’ve always known you’d give me grandbabies. I just⁠—”