Almost There

- 32 -

As the first semester of Tess's senior year drew to a close, the excitement of the upcoming holidays pervaded the halls of the school, and Tess began to slide back down from the heights of happiness.

The weather outside had grown cold and crisp, and the bulletin boards and classroom decorations changed to reflect the spirit of the season. Even the clothes people wore promised that the holidays were upon them: jackets, sweaters, knit hats, scarves.

"I'm so excited for Christmas," Jacqui said one day as they grabbed their books for the first class of the day—French for Jacqui, Spanish for Tess. It was Monday, the 18th of December, the last Monday before break. "My granny is coming from Baltimore to stay with us, and she's a blast to hang out with."

"I'm excited, too," Tess said, giving Jacqui what she hoped looked like a genuine smile. "Less thrilled about having P.E. next semester, though."

"Oh yeah? What block?"

"Yellow."

"Me too!" Jacqui nudged Tess with her shoulder. "It won't be so bad. We can suffer together."

That did lighten Tess's spirits, but only a little. In reality, she looked forward to winter break with dread, and the promise of sharing an unwanted class with a good friend was not quite enough to shake the gloom.

***

Julia had died in an accident on the way to her winter dance recital the previous year; it had been Christmas Eve. The days that had followed were a blur: a funeral, a sea of faces, a house that felt too empty. Tess hardly remembered any of it.

But she remembered how her family had finally celebrated Christmas. Sometime toward the end of January, Tess's mom had decided it was time to take down the tree, and to do that, they needed to deal with the gifts that had been ignored since Julia's death. They had gathered in the living room and sat staring at the ornamented tree with piles of presents beneath it, none of them moving.

Finally, Tess had gotten up and begun to pass out the presents. She put Julia's in an empty chair, all of them except the one she had picked out for her sister.

Robert was the one who had unwrapped Julia's gifts: clothes, pajamas, books. As Clarette drank her way into a bottle of pinot noir, he carefully folded each article of clothing and stacked up the other things into a neat pile.

"We should donate them," Clarette had said, staring at the chair filled with presents Julia would never use. "The angel program. Is it the angel program? Where you can give gifts to a family in need?"

"Something like that," said Robert. "It may be too late now, though. Nearly the end of January."

"That's a good idea, Mom. Maybe they can keep the presents until next year." Tess could think of nothing other than how much Julia would have liked the pajamas their grandmother had bought her that year; they were printed with tiny pigs wearing slippers. So ridiculous. So Julia. "Can I keep what I got her?"

"Sure, honey. What was it again?"

Tess looked down at the small box she had kept back. She tore away the shiny paper and opened the box, holding it up to the light: inside was a gold necklace, a charm in the shape of a pair of pointe shoes.

Clarette was silent as she stared at the necklace. She lifted her glass to her lips and took a sip of wine.

"You can keep it, Tess," said Robert. "We'll donate the rest of it."

The family sat in silence for a while. Then, quietly, Clarette said, "All right. Let's open ours, shall we?"

None of them saw the sense in taking turns; there was no joy in Christmas that year. Watching one another tear away the wrapping paper and bows and cooing together over all the gifts seemed selfish, stupid, hollow. They all unwrapped their presents at once, not speaking, but somehow, through silent accord, all of them saved the gifts Julia had gotten them for last. That was a moment they could all share—a moment they had to share.

Clarette tore away the wrapping paper from her strangely-shaped package. Inside was a large book and a set of pot holders in garish, rainbow polka dots. She turned the book over to read the cover. "Moroccan Cooking," she said. She smiled, her eyes welling with tears. "I can finally try my hand at lamb tagine."

She turned her attention to Robert. "Honey?"

Robert looked down at the rectangular package in his lap. "I think she got me a book too," he said. He peeled away the wrapping paper with a gentle hand and unfolded it from the gift. With a soft chuckle, he laid a hand on the cover. "A Star Trek encyclopedia."

"That's awesome, Dad," said Tess. "I'm surprised you didn't already have it."

"I was looking at this one when we were at the book store a few months ago, in fact. But Julia said I already had enough geeky books, and we laughed—" His voice caught. "We had a good laugh."

Another quiet fell, the three of them faintly smiling. Then, Robert nodded at Tess.

Looking down at the small, square box in her lap, Tess drew in a breath. "I almost don't want to open it," she said.

"You don't have to if you don't want to, baby," said her mother. "You can keep it until you're ready."

But Tess shook her head. "No. We're all together. It's right." She tore away the paper from the gift in one motion. Inside was a white box. Easing her thumb beneath the lid, Tess opened it and turned it upside down. A bubble-wrapped weight fell into her hand.

She peeled the bubble wrap away to reveal a cylindrical pot. It was painted half blue, with a frowny face, and half yellow, with a smiley face. There was a curled paper tucked inside.

I'll buy you the plant for the inside too, we can go after New Year's. I wanted to get you a cactus because they are so CUTE!! :) :) but figured you might want to pick your own. Love you Sis ♥ ♥ ♥ Merry Christmas.

***

Later that evening, Tess sat at her desk with her Chemistry homework spread out before her, unable to focus. She looked at the smiley face planter her sister had bought her and wondered how she would survive the holiday season—a season that was supposed to be about spending time with family and celebrating togetherness. It would never be the same without Julia.

She reached out and turned the planter around so that the blue frowny face was toward her.

"I miss you," she whispered. "So much."