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Christmas is a quiet affair for the Pontti household, but something tells me that it didn't used to be. We exchange gifts and have a light brunch in the afternoon once everyone is at the house and awake, but the majority of the conversations around me are brisk and polite. I can't help but feel that I'm intruding on their regular traditions.
"Are you alright, Mabel honey?" Josephine asks.
I'm sitting at the island counter doodling in a fresh sketch book when she suddenly pops into the kitchen. She's the spitting image of what I assume my mother would look like now if she were still alive. Slender but still toned, dirty-blonde hair that lightens with time spent in the sun, and eyes that mirror my own soft, sea foam green color.
I clear my throat audibly. "Huh? Yeah, I'm okay. Why?"
"You just seem awfully quiet. Were your presents okay? Did you like them?"
"Of course." I give her an enthusiastic nod. "Thank you so much. You all have done so much for me already, you didn't have to—"
She cuts me off by placing a tender hand on my shoulder, a warm smile crinkling the outer edges of her green eyes. "We've talked about this honey. You're family, and this is what families do for each other."
I turn on my stool to wrap an arm around her slim waist, hugging her close into my side. "Thanks Auntie Jo."
Her lips brush my forehead, and I'm suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to cry. My own blood has never shown me this much affection before.
"There's something you should know," she murmurs, pulling back to read my face. "Dwaine contacted me last week."
My blood runs cold.
"He's looking for you, Mabel."
Please no. Not him.
She brushes the hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. "He's getting married."
I stiffen in my seat, my fingernails digging harshly into the meat of my palms.
Of course he's starting a new family.
"Maybe he's changed," Jo adds lightly, but I can see the way she's trying to hide her skepticism.
"I doubt it," I grind out through a locked jaw. "Does the woman have any kids?"
"A thirteen year old daughter."
"D-does she know?" I choke out. "Does she know what kind of man he is?"
I'm so close to crumbling. I blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay.
"I don't know," Jo answers truthfully. "I just wanted to make sure that you knew what was going on. That he's trying to reach out to you."
"I don't want to talk to him. I don't want anything to do with him."
"He doesn't know where you are, Mabel. I won't ever tell him without your permission."
I nod shakily. "Thanks Auntie."
She kisses the top of my head once more. "I love you dearly, Mabel. And I'm so happy that we finally have you in our lives."
✖️✖️✖️
Later that night I sit curled up in bed in one of the guest bedrooms. It's the same one I've spent the last two summers in. Aunt Jo likes to refer to it as my room, she even had it redecorated with a feminine touch, but I can't get used to it. It's not mine. Her house is just too big to feel homey to me.
Now some might call my activities "stalking," but I need to know what my father's fiancé looks like. I need to know who he has moved on to.
It takes some work, but I find her. Alice Kingsley: loving mother of one and owns a photography studio.
This time I can't stop the tears from falling. Silent sobs wrack through me, and I keep a firm hand clamped tightly over my mouth in an effort to muffle any sounds that might break free.
A number is listed on her Facebook profile.
It would be so easy to call her.
My thumb hovers over the phone number.
I'm in no state to call this woman.
I stare at the screen through my tears until it idles and cuts to black.
My fingers phone vibrates in my hand with an incoming Skype call, the suddenness of it causing me to jump.
Alex.
I hastily wipe away my tears and accept the video call.
"Merry Christmas Mabes," he shouts with a grin.
Distant laughter and music can be heard around him. And is that a Santa hat on his head? Alex turns to say something to someone, shifting his face out of view of the camera. Yup, definitely a Santa hat.
"Merry Christmas, Alex," I tell him once he's back in the shot.
His smile falters, his brows pulling together and forming a crease in his forehead. "You okay? Why are you alone?"
I shrug, reaching down to fiddle with the bedding with my free hand. "I just came to my room for a breather."
Alex isn't convinced, and I don't blame him. I'm not a very good actress. "What's wrong, babe?" His surroundings blur as he leaves the party behind, entering a much quieter room.
I sigh, leaning back against the pillows in defeat. "It's my...Dad."
"Your Dad?" Alex's jaw visibly tightens. "Is he there now?"
"No, I'm sure he's still back in Michigan." I gnaw on the inside of my cheek anxiously. "He's looking for me though, Alex. He doesn't know that I attend school in Colorado, but I'm sure by now he knows that Aunt Jo is the one who took me in."
"You ran away," he guesses. And he's right.
"On my eighteenth birthday."
"What happened?"
I shrug, glancing down at my lap. "I found my Aunt on Facebook and let her know what was going on. She knew who I was right away, I guess my mom's pregnancy wasn't a secret, but I had never met her. My Dad didn't let me contact that side of the family."
Alex stays silent, eating up every word that leaves my lips.
"She paid for my ticket to go out to Washington," I continue. "I spent that summer with them until the first semester of school at DU. We kept it a secret from my Dad, and even though he filed a missing persons report, there was nothing anyone could do since I was a legal adult. I kept telling myself that I was out of his range of control, that he couldn't hurt me anymore from hundreds of miles away, but...he's getting married, Alex. He has a new family, and the woman has a daughter. I'm scared that he's going to do the same thing to her that he did to me."
Tears stream down my cheeks and I quickly lift a hand to brush them away, but it's too late. Alex has seen them.
"Fuck babe, don't cry," he whispers in a pained voice. "I hate seeing you torn up like this. It'll be okay."
"P-part of me is jealous," I cry-laugh. "To think that maybe he won't be the way he was with me. That he'll be a loving step-father to that girl. That she'll get the father I didn't. It's pathetic, right?"
"No, no, no of course not," he croons.
"I don't want him to hurt them."
"I know," he agrees with a nod.
"Why is he looking for me? What could he possibly want?"
"I don't know," Alex murmurs. "I really don't know. I'm not going to let him hurt you though, Mabes. I promise, that fucker isn't going to touch you."
"I'm sorry for being such a Debbie-downer," I mutter, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand. "It's Christmas, I shouldn't have said anything."
"Cut me some slack, Mabes," Alex says firmly. "I'll never get pissed off for you coming forward with what's going on in your life, or your emotions."
"Thank you," I sniffle.
Alex sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. "I wish I was there with you right now."
"Me too," I admit.
I'm craving the warmth and protection his arms offer. Hugging anyone else just isn't the same.
"Eight more days," he says gruffly.
"Eight more days," I repeat.
Alex explains that he's at his father's construction company's Christmas party and apologizes for all the noise, but I wave him off. After a bit of encouragement on my end I finally convince him to hang up and go back to the festivities, not wanting to bring him down into the dumps with me. When he hangs up I head back out into the main hallway and begin my search for Jo.
It's only eight in the evening, but I'm ready for bed. I'm too mentally and emotionally exhausted to keep up the act any longer, and I crave the deep blackness of medicated sleep.
I find her in the kitchen preparing snacks with a glass of red wine. She looks up when I enter the room, smiling at first, but then frowns when she notices my puffy eyes from crying.
"I'm ready for bed," I announce weakly.
She nods in understanding, her heels clicking against the wood floor as she crosses the room to give me a hug.
"I don't want to see him tonight," I mumble into her shoulder. "I don't want to deal with the nightmares."
Jo pats my head affectionately, running her nimble fingers through my hair. "Go up to the master suite and in the medicine cabinet there should be some Xanax. Take one and it should help you sleep."
Just what I need. I press my lips to her cheeks and pull away, mumbling a quick "thanks" and "Merry Christmas" under my breath before leaving again.
Jo said to take one, but as I open the bottle two of the rectangular pills tumble out. I don't question it and pop both of them into my mouth at once.
I head back to the guest bedroom and change into a pair of pajamas before crawling under the sheets. My phone buzzes on the pillow next to me with an incoming text.
Alex: Are you going to be ok tonight?
I smile at the screen with heavy eyelids.
Mabel: Of course. Goodnight.
Alex: Goodnight? It's only nine.
Alex: Mabes?
But I'm too far gone to reply. A dreamless sleep has already set in.
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Mabel's Dad is whaaaaaat?
Just to clear things up, this is the first time Mabel has "abused" drugs. Yes they weren't prescribed to her, but people cope with abuse and PTSD/anxiety that result from it differently.
Mabel just happens to have panic attacks and nightmares so honestly she should have a prescription for a med like Xanax anyway.
Anywho, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Remember to vote/comment/add this to your reading list if you're interested in more. I absolutely LOVE hearing from you guys ☺️☺️