Christmas is known as the happiest time of the year. It's known as the time of year when you get to spend it with the people you love. Usually, it is. Not this year.
This year was the first Christmas without my mom. She died just after last Christmas and ever since then my dad has been disconnected. After she died, it seemed that he made a New Year resolution that he was going to focus only on my life.
Not like any father would. Instead, he became obsessed with making sure that my life was perfect. The perfect degree. The perfect job. The perfect house. The perfect husband.
Well, I have a degree in English Literature-not perfect. I work from home for an online magazine–not perfect in my father's eyes. I have a small apartment–nowhere near perfect enough for my father. And my boyfriend is an actor who is constantly working and I rarely see–absolutely not perfect. Not even ideal.
Before my mother died, my father loved Joe. After she died, he thought I deserved someone who could take better care of me. I instantly reassured my father that Joe takes wonderful care of me, but over the months, I started to wonder if that were true.
I checked the clock on my wall, my heart doing flips. This was the time that we had agreed to call each other, but Joe wasn't answering. When Joe started filming Stranger Things in Atlanta, we agreed that every Monday night we would call each other and talk.
This was the first Monday in three months that Joe didn't answer our call. And out of all the Mondays we've done this, I've never needed him to answer the call more.
"Please," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Please answer the phone, Joe."
My heart sank into my stomach and a sob got stuck in my throat when I began hearing the automated voicemail.
"Hey," I said shakily. "It's our Monday night call. Umm. . . I know you're probably busy, but I really need to talk to you. Please call me back."
I hung up the phone and tossed it onto the cushion next to me. I didn't bother holding back the sob I was barely holding back during the call. I tucked my knees into my chest and leaned my forehead on my knee as I sobbed.
I fell asleep on the couch with dried tears on my face. When I woke up the next morning, I instantly felt like crying again. There were so many things that I needed to talk to him about and him not answering, not even calling me back or sending me a text, hurt more than it should.
I numbly got up and started getting ready for the day. I took a shower. Made breakfast. And sat down at my computer to write. I had a list of topics to write about but nothing came to mind.
I slammed my laptop closed as another wave of frustration hit me. I put my head in my hands and struggled to hold back another sob. I jumped when my phone started ringing again. I ran to it and couldn't help getting a little disappointed when I saw it wasn't Joe.
"Hey, dad."
"What's wrong?" He practically accused.
"I'm just tired," I stuttered. "With the anniversary of Mom. . ."
"Don't!" He yelled. I pulled the phone away from my ear and held my breath. When I put it back, his voice was completely normal.
"How's work?"
"It's good," I said slowly. "I'm working on an article right now about. . ."
"That's stupid," he cut me off. "You shouldn't be living article by article."
"I'm not doing that," I whispered.
"You need a career, Y/N, not a hobby. Something you can live off of considering that boyfriend of yours won't be able to."
"Joe makes enough to support me," I stuttered. "Not that it matters. . ."
"I've said this to you before and I'll say it again," he said through his teeth. "That actor is not good for you. You should be with someone who makes it so you don't have to work. You should be with someone who comes home every day at 5. You should be with someone who provides for you. You should be with someone who is around more."
"Dad," I whispered. "Joe is. . ."
"When was the last time you talked to him?" He asked, cutting me off.
"Yesterday," I lied.
"Okay," he scoffed. "But when was the last time you actually saw him?"
"It's. . . It's been a while."
"Ha," he laughed sarcastically. "I told you. A boyfriend is good for two things; spoiling you and fu. . ."
"Dad!" I yelled cutting him off. "I'm done with this. Ever since mom died a year ago, you've been too focused on my life. It doesn't matter that I don't make as much as you do. I love my job. And sure, things are tough sometimes with the distance between me and Joe. But all relationships have their problems and what's most important is that I know Joe cares for me."
"He doesn't love you?"
"What?" I stuttered.
"You said that you know Joe cares for you. You didn't say you know he loves you."
"Joe loves me."
Even though I wanted it to come off strong and sincere, it came off more hesitant and unsure.
"Keep telling yourself that," my father laughed. "One day, you're going to call me, crying your eyes out, saying that I was right and that Joe. . ."
"I gotta go," I said quickly before hanging up.
The rest of the day, I had no desire to look at my phone. I almost turned it off completely but the idea that Joe might call me kept me from doing it.
Around lunch, my phone finally rang. I took my time getting it, feeling as if I was in a daze. When I finally got to it, I saw that it was Joe.
"Hi," I whispered.
"Hey, baby," he said, his voice showing all signs of smiling. "Merry Christmas Eve Eve! Sorry I didn't call yesterday. The cast and I went to the bar and I drank way too much."
"It's okay."
"Whoa," Joe laughed. "You okay, babe?"
"What was yesterday?" I asked.
"The day we were supposed to call," Joe said, sounding more and more unsure by each word.
"It was the year anniversary," I started but my voice broke.
"Shit," he said under his breath. "Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of your mom's death. Oh, baby. I'm so sorry."
"I really needed you yesterday and you didn't call," I said, my voice breaking again. "We agreed we'd call every Monday and the one Monday I really needed you. . . Nothing. Instead of a call from you, I got a call from my dad."
"Y/N," he sighed. "I'm so sorry, baby."
"I can't do this," I whispered.
"Wait, Y/N," he said quickly. "I'm sorry. I know things have been rough the past couple of days. . ."
"Months," I cut him off. "This has been going on for months, Joe, and I can't do it anymore. You know I love you but lately, I've felt like I'm the only one."
"The only one?" He asked. "Wait, baby, you know I love you. . . Right?"
"Sometimes," I whispered.
"Y/N. . ."
I waited for him to say more, but he didn't. I took a shaky breath, struggling to hold back my sob.
"I love you, Joe," I said, my voice breaking, "but I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry."
"Y/N, wait. Please, baby. I'll be back in town at the end of January. We can talk about this then."
"That's a month away, Joe."
"I know but. . ."
"I'm sorry."
* * * * *
I woke up on Christmas Eve with no holiday spirit. I stayed in bed until noon, barely ate anything all day, and didn't bother opening my computer. When I did have the strength to get out of bed, I went straight to my couch and spent the entire day watching Hallmark Christmas movies.
My phone continued to ring all day, but I didn't bother to get it. I didn't care if it was my father or if it was Joe. I didn't want to talk to either one of them.
The day dragged on. By the end of the day, nothing had changed. My phone was still plugged in on my bedside table and my computer was still closed.
When I finally went to bed, I wanted to shut down. I crawled into bed and hesitated. I looked at my phone, debating whether or not I should at least check it. I reached for it but froze. I shook my head and rolled over so my back was to my phone.
Christmas morning I woke up to the sound of someone walking into my apartment. I sat up and held my breath. Something fell, followed by someone cursing. I slowly got out of bed and slipped on a cardigan. With my arms wrapped around myself, I headed into my living room.
"Joe?" I gasped. "What are you doing here?"
"After our last call. . . Then you weren't answering yesterday. . ."
I watched as he kept stuttering. My heart sank as I examined him. He had bags under his eyes, his hair wasn't fluffy, and his clothes weren't as stylish as normal. He was even wearing his glasses; which he never did.
"I got on the first flight I could," he said, finally putting a solid sentence together. "As soon as we landed, I had an Uber waiting to bring me here."
"Why?" I asked when I found my voice. He took a hesitant step towards me and grabbed my hands.
"Because I can't lose you, Y/N," he whispered.
"Joe," I stuttered, trying to pull my hands out of his. He shook his head, tightening his hold on my hands.
"I'm so sorry, baby," he said, his voice breaking. "I never meant to make you feel like I wasn't completely, unlimitedly, wholeheartedly in love with you. I have been a horrible boyfriend and I want to be better. I know I need to be better and I will. I swear on everything I own I will be better. I'll be the first to call you on Mondays. I'll start calling you whenever I have a moment to breathe. And if I get a day off, that day will be spent with you. I'll fly, drive, ride a train, whatever it takes to get home to you. I will always come home to you. In fact, if you wanted, I'd move into your apartment with you."
"Your place is bigger," I whispered.
"I don't want to make you move," he answered instantly, "so we can live at your place. That way, whenever I'm home, I'll be with you. You work from home so that'll make it so we spend even more time together. I just want to show you that I still want you in my life. You mean everything to me and I know that the past couple of months hasn't exactly proved that. But I'm going to be better. I promise, Y/N, I'll be the guy you deserve. I want to be the guy you deserve. Please let me show you how willing I am to work for us."
"Joe," I whispered.
"I know you've done everything you could to keep our relationship going," he continued. "I haven't been pulling my weight. If you give me another chance, I will be the one working to keep our relationship going. I'll be the one going out of my way. You won't have to do anything, my love. Please, give me another chance."
I stood on my toes and pressed my lips delicately to his. He let go of my hands, wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me against his chest as he deepened the kiss. I wrapped my arms around his neck as our lips moved in sync.
Without breaking the kiss, he leaned down and picked me up. I smiled against his lips as I wrapped my legs around his waist. He sat on the couch and pulled me in closer before laying us down on the couch with him on top.
We finally broke the kiss, both of us out of breath. Joe leaned his forehead against mine as we caught our breaths.
"I'm so sorry, baby," he whispered. "I love you so much."
"I love you too," I said, still slightly out of breath. He leaned up and looked deeply into my eyes. He reached up and moved a piece of hair out of my face, his hand lingering on my cheek.
"Merry Christmas, Y/N."
"Merry Christmas, Joe."