Dispatches from a Teenage Girl

Chapter 26

Christmas Day arrives to little fanfare. While I have accomplished a lot in the past week and moved on from my hangover, I haven't moved on from my pit in my stomach embarrassment. I feel like I should be sadder that it's my first Christmas since my dad died. Except he never really was good at Christmas. In fact, he sucked at Christmas. He would say he was going to stop by. And then not show. Or he would promise me he'd call. And then not call. It's almost a relief to not have my expectations shattered. But then I feel guilty for feeling good about him being gone. So I feel almost worse than I did when he was skipping out on Christmas. But then I feel better when I realize I don't have to worry about it. And then I feel worse again. It's a cycle. I need to eat my way out of it.

I head downstairs and just start stuffing my face. My mom has done a really good job of filling the house with treats. Chocolate croissants, bagels, gingerbread cookies, hot cocoa, oh man. This is filling the pit of embarrassment and guilt and making me feel pretty good right now.

My mom comes into the kitchen when I am mid-stuff, I think I have about a half a croissant hanging out of my mouth as I am reaching for a chocolate chip cookie.

"Oh hey," I mumble through a full mouth of food. "Merry Christmas!"

She laughs. I try to laugh but have to hold it in so I don't spit food everywhere. It's the first time I've seen her smile since I disappointed her.

***

The rest of the holidays go by in much the same way. Tentative friendliness, laughter here and there and some light at the end of this fight tunnel that I have been having with my mom. It's pleasant and I feel the twist in my stomach ease a bit. But I know it will be back in full force if I ever see Sam or Avalyn again.

The lazy days between Christmas and New Year's roll by and I spend them hanging out at home, watching movies, trying out different combinations of pyjamas and sweat suits and blankets as clothing.

I don't hear from Sam on Christmas or the next day or the next day or the next. I am not sure. I mean he is the one who texted me first after the party, where has he gone? I would understand more if he had never texted and wanted nothing to do with me after the way I acted. But then, to text once then not reply to my reply, I just can't get my head around it.

Maybe he was sincerely just making sure I didn't die and that was the end of it. Seems strange. I mean he could have easily found out if I was dead in other ways... Just to ghost me like this? Rude.

And then it happens. On December 30th. One day before the big day, the party day of the year. The day when people who don't even party, party. Senior year New Year's Eve? A night I should be talking about for years to come. A night I will describe to my college roommates as one of the best nights of my life. I mean, that is the hope. He texts me the day before that.

Glad to hear it.

What on earth. I don't even know what to write back. But is it ok that I also want to see him? I want to get out of this house. I want to get out of flannel pants.

And well, I think it's best to leave the past in the past. And move forward. And maybe get a kiss at midnight out of it?

How was your Christmas?

Seems neutral. Moves past the barfing and the spinning and the humiliation. No one can get mad at Christmas. And maybe, just maybe, I might have something to do on New Year's. One can dream. I need something to talk about during frosh week.

Spent it at my folks' house. Ate too much.

I hear that. I definitely feel that. But playing it cool, I know I can't bring up tomorrow night. He has to bring it up. Please bring it up. I mean, even if I did bring it up, I have no plans and no idea of any plans, so that would put me in a place.