LIVING & GRIEVING

08. the first Christmas

"Thanks. Remind me to get you your jumper before you leave. I've had it for ages now."

"Keep it. I have plenty of jumpers."

"I have plenty of jumpers too. I know that's one of your club ones, you'll need it."

"I said keep it."

I decided to end the conversation because I didn't want to argue with him. He was getting that jumper back. I don't know why he wanted me to keep it. I honestly thought he was going to use the classic 'you look better in it anyway' line but it never came. I felt silly for even expecting it. I'd been spending too much time listening to Hannah and Olivia's nonsense theories.

It was still weird that he sat beside me in the living room. He usually would've sat with Connor. I don't think they'd talked much since the funeral though. Connor didn't understand why Quinn didn't want to take a turn carrying the coffin. Martin Hale was honoured to be asked, and gracefully accepted, but not Quinn. I'm sure he had his reasons. I liked to hope he did. That was probably why he chose not to sit with him. These boys were even worse at talking about their feelings than I was.

"Anyone know any good drinking games?"

"Christ Angela, you wouldn't think you're forty," her husband teased.

"Come on Martin, lets live a little! Surely you kids know some good ones."

"I don't think I want to play the likes of never have I ever with you guys in the room," Connor voiced.

"Oh gosh, and you think we do? I don't want to know what you lot get up to either. I was thinking more along the lines of that one... Lord, what's it called... Ping beer?"

"Beer pong, Mum," Quinn grunted from beside me, obviously embarrassed.

"That's the one! Great, why don't you and Connor set it up in the kitchen for us?"

Surprisingly, my dad was a lot fonder of the idea than I thought he would be. Apparently, beer pong was his thing back in high school, which was many moons ago, we joked. He was still quite good at it. He was the only reason their team of dad, Angela and Martin, stood a chance against me, Connor and Quinn. Both Mr and Mrs. Hale were shocking players. Dad kept them going saying they obviously weren't cool enough to party as much as him in school.

I was my team's downfall. I had missed every shot I'd taken. Sometimes, completely even missing the table. Every time, my brother and Quinn would groan and complain, getting more frustrated with every shot. The game was taking so long because we both only had one cup left and we had decided it would be me versus Angela, to spice things up. It was getting too easy for everyone else. Although, it became clear none of us were going to make the shot.

"Oh for fuck sake, let me show you," Quinn barked.

"What? No, I can do it myself."

"Obviously not. Look," he grabbed my hand and started positioning my fingers, the ball between my thumb, forefinger, and middle finger. "Stop trying so hard to bounce it, you need to just fastball it straight in," he then moved his hands to my arm and started showing me the motion, before leaning back against the kitchen counter.

"Okay, fine. I don't think that's just magically going to work though," I argued, before taking my shot.

I was all flustered knowing my dad and his parents were here and Quinns' hands had been touching mine. Not that anyone was even paying any attention. Besides Angela, whos' whole face practically lit up. I wondered If she could sense how nervous the whole interaction made me.

Obviously, the ball went straight in the first time I used Quinns' tactics. Connor began jumping up and down, "fucking finally!" I don't think he ever would've forgiven me if I lost beer pong to three middle aged losers, he'd been calling them. Dad was distraught and demanded a rematch, but of course we all declined. The rest of us all knew that match lasted long enough.

Nobody made any moves on what to do next. We all just sort of hovered around the kitchen in our own conversations, dad talking to the Hales, Connor to Quinn and me on my own. I began tidying all the empty cups to make myself look less awkward before slipping back into the living room with Charlie close behind.

I turned the TV on and started watching the first show that came on, bargain hunt. Of course, it was one of mums favourite TV shows. No matter how hard we tried to have a normal day, everything always came back to her. Even the little things. Dad had joked earlier how his beer pong skills had helped him land mum when they first met. We all laughed but it made me want to cry. It was one of the first times he'd brought her up since.

"You watch this shit?" I hadn't even heard Quinn come in.
"No, it just came on. Where's Connor?"

"He went upstairs, said he had to call his girlfriend."

I nodded but I had forgotten Connor even had a girlfriend. They had been friends for a few years, I guess they grew closer romantically while she was comforting him over the past few months. They made it official a couple weeks after mum died. I was glad of it. Alex was a nice girl and she had always been sweet to me. She hadn't been round recently, probably wanted to give us some space.

"I forgot he had a girlfriend," I admitted.

"Yeah, I almost did too."

"Do you really not want your jumper back?"

"I said you can keep it. You look better in it anyway."

Before I even got to respond, Angela and Martin both came in to say goodbye. Thankfully, because I didn't know how to respond anyway. It was that cliché moment I was expecting earlier. But at the back of my mind, I knew he'd go back to hating me tomorrow. It made me wonder was he just being nice to me because my mum died. He probably did feel sorry for me. That made me hate him more. 

Mr and Mrs. Hale both hugged me goodbye and made their way to the front door, "thanks again for the present, Angela. I'll let you know when I open it."

"Nonsense, you don't have to say another word about it," she assured with a smile, "make sure you give Ivy a hug too, Quinn, she did win you ping beer after all" she winked, before slipping out again to her husband. Looking up at him mortified, it was only me and Quinn left in the room. If you don't count Charlie, who was still snoring on the sofa.

"Fucking ping beer she says," he muttered, before pulling me into a light and awkward embrace, "Merry Christmas Ivy."