Carol of the Bells - August Burns Red
Grace, Now
On the eastern shore of the Delaware River, Aidan Reeves and Olivia Allard have made their forever home. A massive, yellow farmhouse sits on the riverbank, a dock extending into the brackish water. A tire swing claims a branch on an ancient oak tree, swaying in the cool breeze. The twins race around the front lawn, bundled in wool hats and mittens.
Snow clings to the roof, and fake icicles dangle from the eaves. Below the porch, a snowman guards the steps, one of his eyes missing. A collection of winter boots forms a haphazard line by the front door. A fire roars in the living room, stockings hang from the hearth, and presents circle the ten-foot balsam fir. From the kitchen, mouthwatering scents permeate the air—caramelized onions, buttery potatoes, and glazed ham.
And there's a fucking turkey prowling the halls.
I set my clutch on the console table in the foyer, staring at Glenn the Gobbler. He fans his tailfeathers, bobs his head, then continues by with caution.
"Oh, my God!" Mom exclaims, entering the house behind me. "Why is it inside?"
"He needs company!" Kendall shouts from the kitchen. "Give him a break, Grand-mère. It's Christmas."
Dad is next through the door. He flinches when he sees the bird. "Jesus H. Christ. Aidan!"
"What?" my brother yells from somewhere on the second floor.
Dad tugs Mom away from the animal like he's unsure if it'll attack. He tilts his head up the stairs, exclaiming, "This is a wild turkey, not a golden retriever!"
"Mind your business," Aidan grumbles, appearing on the landing. He jogs down the steps, buttoning his dress shirt. "And Merry fuckin' Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," my parents mumble, escaping to the kitchen.
Aidan pulls me in for a hug. "I thought Steph and Payton were riding with you guys."
I back away so he can see me sign, They drove in her car.
My uncle and cousins are already here. Stephanie was going to hitch with us, but decided to drive herself at the last minute. For some reason, Payton insisted on being in her car. I think he's nervous about the big reveal, and wanted her support. I'm trying not to think about it, but my stomach is clenched in anticipation.
Is there anything I can help with? I ask my brother.
"The girls are going to set the table in a bit," he tells me, glancing toward the dining room. "Would you mind supervising?"
Not at all, I sign.
He pecks my forehead as he passes into the kitchen. "Thanks, sis."
Ten minutes later, I'm in the dining room with Josephine and Arabella when my aunt's car pulls into the lot. Payton gets out, but Stephanie stops him, appearing to give him a pep talk. He stares at her, his expression blank, then nods. They walk through the front door, and Steph aims straight for the kitchen to say hello to her husband and kids. Payton slows his stride in the foyer, glancing at me.
I give him a wave.
He returns it, then proceeds to the living room, head down.
Weird.
A loud clink garners my attention, and I return to my duties. Josie is knocking two dishes together, giggling at the sound they make. Arabella has her arms crossed, and she's peering down her nose at her twin. I step in, showing my nieces where to put the plates. It's difficult giving direction without a voice, but not impossible. The girls don't have a full grasp on the English language, so they're receptive to my method of communication.
After the table is set, my parents take Kendall and the twins outside to burn off their energy. I join the commotion in the kitchen. The cooking area opens into the living room, giving me a view of the cozy space. Flames lick the inside of the chimney, and a football game is on the television. The majority of my extended family is gathered on the couches, watching the teams face off. Payton is seated in the corner of the room, sunken into a leather armchair. His body appears to be made of gelatin. His gaze is on the TV, but he isn't focused on the game.
For the next hour, I offer my assistance in the kitchen. I'm not much of a chef, so Olivia assigns me simple tasks—brush butter on the rolls, take the beef's temperature, make sure the pies are in the spare oven. Olivia is flushed, and she keeps skating her hand over her swollen belly. Steph suggests she put her feet up, but Liv refuses, saying she prefers having something to do at these things. We keep out mouths shut, but my brother is more forceful.
"Sit your ass down, princess," Aidan growls, rubbing the base of Olivia's spine. "You're growing a human. We can handle dinner."
"It's almost done," she argues, reaching for the oven handle.
I block her, signing, I got it.
I set the timer on the vegetables, then remove the roast beef and place it on the stove to rest. I toss the mittens on the counter, turning to ask what I should do next, but Olivia is distracted. She's staring at Payton, who hasn't moved a muscle.
"He's acting odd, right?" she whispers, posing the question to no one in particular. "It isn't just me?"
"Who, P?" Aidan asks, biting into a roll. He chews, speaking around the food. "Oh, he's high as a fucking kite."
I snap my head to him, astonished.
Olivia does the same, but she's able to seek clarification. "What do you mean?"
"I noticed it the second he walked through the door," Aidan explains, chuckling to himself. He points across the open living area at his best friend. "Look at his eyes. See how glassy they are? Dude is in another dimension."
Payton rests his head on his shoulder, watching the game. He doesn't blink, and I can see the television reflected in his half-lidded eyes. His legs are spread, and his hands are resting palm up on his thighs. His pinky twitches, but other than that, it's as if his bones are liquefied. I place my hand over my mouth, not knowing whether this is hilarious or cause for concern. Payton has never done drugs, so why is he high?
I'm perturbed that he decided to indulge this evening. We were supposed to break serious news tonight, but we'll have to hold off. He can't do it in this condition.
"It was an accident," Aunt Stephanie whispers, her gaze flitting to me. I see a trace of guilt in her features. "He got into the edibles I brought for you. They were homemade peanut butter cups, and I have a high tolerance, so my dealer makes them strong."
My annoyance vanishes, replaced with sympathy. Payton is in uncharted territory, experiencing the effects of a drug he didn't willingly take. He probably feels isolated—maybe a little paranoid.
"I think it's good for him," Aidan muses, shoving the remainder of the roll into his mouth. "He never lets loose."
I ignore him, making my way across the room. I enter the living area, and take a seat on the arm of the leather chair. Payton glances up, looking at me like he's at the bottom of a well.
How are you feeling? I sign, slowing my movements to accommodate his intoxication.
He stares at my hands, furrowing his brow. He blinks twice, then shifts his gaze to my face. I wait, but he's not saying anything. After a full fifteen seconds, he reaches out, cupping my cheek.
"You're so goddamn pretty," he slurs, brushing his thumb beneath my eye. "You're like a baby deer, but sexy. A sexy deer. Or a bunny. Definitely a woodland creature."
I glance over my shoulder, but my family is distracted. When I turn back to Payton, I place my hand over his mouth to stop his prattling. He licks his lips, and his tongue wets my palm.
"Was I just talking?" he asks, his mouth moving beneath my touch.
I nod.
"I can't feel my face," he tells me. "Did my teeth fall out? My gums feel weird."
I roll my lips, trying not to laugh. You're really stoned, I sign.
Payton watches my hands, then shakes his head in confusion. "I'm stoned?"
I nod.
He looks up at me with childlike innocence. "Why am I stoned?"
You ate candy laced with marijuana, I remind him.
"We're supposed to do something important tonight," he whispers, grabbing my thigh to twist my body toward him. "I can't remember what it is, but I know I shouldn't be on drugs right now."
Just relax, I sign, then set my hands on his shoulders. I press my thumbs into his neck muscles, rubbing in circles. He shuts his eyes, leaning into the massage. I slip forward, finding space beside him. We're crammed on the cushion, and I can feel the warmth seeping from his body into mine.
"That feels so good," he moans, his jaw softening.
I follow the natural grain of his muscle, kneading his trapezius, traveling to his deltoids, then down to his pectorals. I'm distracted by how powerful he is—his body is a weapon, primed for high caliber performance. His chest begins to rise and fall faster, and he snaps his eyes open.
"Stop," he murmurs, catching my hands in his. His pupils are dilated, but I don't think it's from the edibles. "I'm getting hard."
I pull back, signing, Sorry.
"It's not your fault." He presses his fingers into his temples, groaning. "My skull feels like it's filled with cotton balls. That's not good, right? There should be something else in there."
Your brain? I suggest.
Payton nods, the pulse fluttering in his throat. "Yeah, my brain. My brain is gone."
I splay my fingers over his pitter-pattering heart, subduing his panic. I point to my own chest, drawing a deep breath, emphasizing the movement. Payton copies me, filling his lungs. He lets them go, his minty breath hitting me square in the face.
Good, I sign. Do a few more with me.
We sit on the armchair for ten minutes, working through his paranoia. Payton visibly relaxes, keeping his eyes on me, mimicking my calm. I need to stay present for him. I can't disassociate or hide in another room. For once, he's the vulnerable one, and he requires a serene presence. The breathing technique works until Glenn the Gobbler sneaks in, pecking Payton on his kneecap.
Payton yelps, scrambling onto the armchair. "Is that thing real, or am I hallucinating?"
I shoo the turkey away.
"It's like he's never seen an animal before," Grandpa Sean muses from his spot on the couch. "The kid can throw a ball to Egypt, but he's scared of a bird."
"Dinner's ready!" Aidan shouts from the kitchen.
"Dinner?" Payton fists my sweater dress, tugging me toward him. Our noses are almost touching. "I can't be around other people right now."
I create space to sign, Just sit and eat. That's all you have to do.
"There's food?" he asks, his expression shifting from terrified to adoring. "I love food."
I take his hand, helping him to his feet. He stumbles, but we make it to the dining room before anyone else. I shove him into a chair. He stares at the wall, quiet and obedient, while I help bring serving platters in from the kitchen. There's a flutter of activity while everyone gets their drinks and finds their places at the decadent table—and Payton remains frozen like a dog waiting for punishment. I claim a seat beside him, filling our glasses with water from a pitcher.
He proceeds to chug the drink in two large gulps. His throat bobs with the violent swallow. He sets the glass down with a thump, and I refill it, trying to keep the ice out so he doesn't choke.
From my right, Aidan snickers, "Is your mouth a little dry, bro?"
Payton looks at him, nervous. "No."
"You sure about that?"
"Easy, Reeves," Olivia chastises, hiding her grimace behind a napkin. "You spent most of college with a bong surgically attached to your mouth."
Aidan laughs, and a ripple of confusion travels through the diners. My family shares a series of glances, wondering what they're missing. Dad stares at Payton, his brow drawn. Then, realization sets in, and he leans toward my mom, whispering in her ear. Mom looks to Payton, her eyes wide.
My brother and his fiancé are seated next to me at the head of the table. Our grandparents are on the other end. My aunt and uncle are across from us, followed by Dad and Mom, in that order. Blake is beside Payton, but I can't see anyone further in my periphery. There's a lot of us.
"Should I make a toast?" Aidan asks.
Steph buries her knife in the meat. "We're already eating."
Payton is currently wolfing potatoes down like he hasn't been fed in weeks. I nibble on a green bean, tasting nothing.
"Fine," Aidan concedes, raising a flute of sparkling cider. "To Glenn the Gobbler. I hope he's grateful for our sacrifice."
I glance behind me, but the turkey isn't in sight.
"Here, here!" Grandpa grunts.
The feast ensues, and various conversations occur around the rustic farm table. I listen, stabbing a piece of roast beef with my fork. I glare at it, then decide to stick with potatoes. They aren't as painful. We're three quarters of the way through the meal when Payton whispers in my ear.
"I remember what we were supposed to do."
I slip my hand beneath the tablecloth, sinking my nails into his thigh. This is a delicate matter—Payton can't justify our actions while inebriated. He has the subtlety of a rhinoceros attempting ballet. But it appears the man can't feel anything below his waist. Despite my violent objection, Payton raises his voice.
"Grace and I have something we'd say to like." He winces, clearing his throat. "Like to say."
This isn't off to a great start. I bow my head, hoping the angle obscures the fire in my cheeks.
"You two boinked?" Olivia asks, slightly breathless. "We know."
Aidan adds, "It was written all over your faces when you got back from Lancaster."
Payton shakes his head. "That's not—"
"You two slept together?" Mom asks.
I glance up to find her eyes on me, but they're not filled with criticism. Surprise, yes, and maybe some concern. My parents have always been open books when it comes to sexuality—maybe a little too open. But with my unpredictable mental health, Mom doesn't want me making rash decisions, promiscuity included.
"Wha happen?" Josie asks from down the table, her voice a mere squeak.
"Uncle P and Aunt Gracie touched private parts," Kendall explains. "You'll understand when you're older."
I slap my hand to my forehead.
"This is inappropriate conversation for dinner," Grandpa growls.
"Hush, Sean," Grandma cuts in. "I'm invested."
"I'm not," Dad disagrees, tossing his napkin on his plate. He grinds his molars, his glare directed at Payton. "Can we discuss this tomorrow?"
"No," Payton insists. "We've been keeping it a secret for too long."
My mother's concern grows. "What do you mean?"
Payton takes a deep breath, announcing, "Grace and I have been married for ten years."
Silence.
Silence.
More silence.
My heart thumps inside my chest. Arabella scrapes her fork against her plate. Josie blows bubbles in her juice. Blake fiddles with his cufflink. Grandpa hides a burp in his fist. I can here every miniscule sound, as if the room is coming back to life after a flatline.
"Wh-What?" Mom begins, then stops, gathering her breath. "When? How?"
Payton speaks. "The summer after high school graduation, Grace and I had a civil ceremony at Philadelphia City Hall."
There's another pregnant pause.
"Who knew about this?" Dad asks, his tone dark.
"June, my father, and Stephanie," Payton answers, struggling to maintain focus. His gaze drifts, but he snaps it back. "Probably Blake, as well."
My little brother releases a disgruntled sigh.
Dad is all business, slicing his way to the specifics. "Why were Frederick and Stephanie made aware? Why them?"
And not us is what he wants to add. I can hear the inflection.
Payton shifts in his seat. "They were our witnesses."
"And Blake?" Dad prods, looking at his stepson.
"A few years ago, I hacked into the circuit court database, searching for something entirely unrelated," Blake explains, perfunctory. "I stumbled on Grace's name, and peeked at the record."
"Blake," Aidan hedges, leaning forward in his seat. "Be honest with me. Did you break into Olivia's medical file to find out the sex of our baby?"
Blake sinks into his chair. "Maybe."
I use the distraction to make eye contact with my mom, but she's not looking at me anymore. She fiddles with her earrings, taking one out and then the other. She sets the jewelry beside her wineglass, then starts removing her bracelets. I furrow my brow, wondering what's gotten into her.
"Is it a boy?" Aidan asks, rising to interrogate our brother. "It's a girl, right? It'll be another girl."
"What's wrong with girls?" Kendall erupts, insulted.
"Gilberte, don't you dare open your mouth!" Olivia shouts, pointing a finger at him. She was flushed before, but now she's ashen. Sweat is beading on her upper lip, and her hands are shaking. "If you do, I'll strangle you with the umbilical cord and shove my placenta down your throat."
"I'd advise you to keep the gender to yourself, kid," Grandpa warns.
"Noted," Blake squawks, only his eyes visible above the table.
I swing my gaze back to Mom, but her chair is empty. Instead, she's standing behind my aunt, staring at the back of her head, her expression murderous. Steph reaches for her cocktail, but Mom sinks her fingers into her sister's hair, yanking her from the seat. The chair topples, and the two women land on the floor in a heap.
Chaos ensues.
My mom scrambles for leverage, pinning Steph beneath her. Stephanie screeches, trying to bat away the attack. People jump out of their seats for a better look. Everyone is yelling, but I can't discern what's being said above the Robinson daughters' scuffle.
"I should've been there!" Mom yells, scraping Steph's cheek on the rug.
Steph bucks her hips, attempting to throw Mom off. "She asked me!"
"You knew this whole time!" Mom fires back.
"Girls," Grandma drawls, swirling her champagne flute. "Play nice, or no whipped cream on your pie."
"Should we intervene?" my uncle asks, looking to Dad. "I have to admit, it's kinda hot."
Dad gnaws on his bottom lip, mulling it over. "Let's just keep them away from the cutlery."
Suddenly, an agonized wail pierces my eardrums, but it doesn't come from the wrestlers. I snap my head to Olivia. She has her chair pushed away from the table. She's holding the curve of her belly, hunched into herself. Her dress is soaked from the waist down, and there's liquid on the floor.
In less than a second, Aidan is kneeling in front of her, cupping her face. "You said it was just Braxton Hicks, princess."
"I thought they were!" Olivia cries, struggling for air. "We're five weeks from the due date."
"Can you spread your legs?" Aidan asks, patting the inside of her knee.
She nods, opening herself to him. Aidan peeks beneath her skirt, and we all hold our breath. When he rises, he's a different person entirely. His features have hardened, determination is evident in the set of his jaw. The humor is gone from his eyes, and in its place is clinical care. I've never seen my brother like this.
"Move!" Aidan shouts at us, grasping the edge of the tablecloth. Our family scatters away from the leftover food. I reach back, touching Payton's sweater to make sure he's in the clear. Aidan tugs the linen. Dishes clatter, and centerpieces bounce off the floor. He clears an area the size of a hospital bed, then starts barking orders. "Dad, call an ambulance. Kendall, get pillows and towels from the linen closet. Mom, first aid kit is under the kitchen sink. Grandma, take the twins."
The energy in the room does a complete turn. Mom jumps into action, helping Steph up from the floor. Kendall disappears into the hallway. Grandma grabs the girls, herding them toward the living room.
"Hospital?" Steph suggests, rubbing at a welt on her cheek.
Aidan shakes his head, lifting his fiancé onto the table. "This woman pops babies out like toaster strudels. We won't make it in time."
He's not lying. Olivia gave birth to Josephine in the hospital parking lot, then Arabella came into this world on a stretcher. I was performing in Manhattan when I heard Liv was in labor. I hadn't even exited the stadium when Mom called, saying the twins had arrived.
Kendall returns with her arms full, laying a pillow down for Olivia. She brushes the hair off her mother's damp forehead, whispering to her in French—something soothing, but encouraging. Mom opens the first aid kit, passing hand sanitizer to Aidan. He cleans himself to the elbows, then snaps on a pair of gloves.
"Oh, my God," Payton bemoans, sounding nauseous.
I glance back. He's braced himself against the wall, horrified at the scene. I admit, I'm struggling to adjust to the rapid pace of my environment—this doesn't feel real.
"It's not like you haven't seen Liv's vagina before," Blake comments, unaffected.
Lest we forget, Payton and Olivia dated in high school.
"Not with a human head sticking out of it!" Payton shouts, sliding down the wall.
Dad jogs into the room, phone to his ear. "Paramedics are ten minutes away."
Olivia grits her teeth, her eyes watering. "They're n-not going to get here in t-time."
"We got this, princess," Aidan assures her, calm in the face of his partner's distress. "We know what we're doing, and help is coming."
She shakes her head, moaning. "I need to push, but there's too many people."
"Who do you want here, Livvie?" he asks.
"Y-You..." She winces, and her belly contracts. "Your mom, K-Kendall, and Grace."
I step forward, grabbing the sanitizer. Mom and Kendall form a line behind me, rolling up their sleeves. I take a deep breath, then pass the bottle.
"Everyone else, get the fuck out," Aidan orders, biting his lip as he measures Liv's dilation. He holds eight fingers aloft, letting us know.
The room empties within seconds, but Aunt Stephanie hesitates, placing her hand on my shoulder.
"I'll take Payton to your house," she informs me. "I think he's going into shock."
I nod, but raise a skeptical brow. You can handle him?
"He'll feel better after he poops and takes a hot shower," Steph says. "Trust me. It works wonders for a bad trip."
By the time I turn to Olivia, a healthy newborn's cry echoes off the walls.
It's a boy.