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Though the crisp air outside was bitter and cold, inside the Liang household it was warm.
Gwen, London's sister, was the one to open the door when she and Andrew arrived, the air already buzzing with the excitement of Christmas. Gwen's arms immediately engulfed her and London had laughed, hugging her sister back. London noticed the shiny diamond on Gwen's finger and decided to ask her about it later, when they found some private time.
"This is my sister, Gwenyth," she had said, introducing them at the front door. "And this is is my boyfriend, Andrew."
"Nice to meet you," Gwen had said, grinning widely and sending London a knowing look before she gave Andrew a quick welcome hug. "Now come in before we all freeze our arses off."
"Where's Dad?" London had asked after a while of casual conversation in the living room. This was the time of year that was hard for all of them — for London, Gwen and their father. It was the first time that their mother had attempted suicide, and months later actually succeeded in it. That night was chaos, it was emotional and it was those two times when their father chose to close off even more.
"You know where he is," Gwen had replied, the smile dying from her lips at the mention of their father.
London did. She found him nursing a glass of whiskey in his hand in his study and immediately regretted letting Andrew tag along. She could have helped freshen him up first before meeting her boyfriend because this was far from how she wanted their first meeting to go, but it had already happened and there was nothing she could do to change that.
"Dad," she said, strained smile to her lips. "Couldn't wait to get drunk after dinner, I see."
She tried her best to hold in the snide comments but one look at the lazy smile her father gave her made the words tumble out. His appearance startled her. They rarely talked these days, and when they did it was always a phone call, never a video call, so she hadn't really seen him since last Christmas. And he refused to come to Porte Orlands on their mother's death anniversary, so they seldom saw each other. The last time her father visited her mother's grave was at her funeral. He refused to come to Porte Orlands again, refused to visit his dead wife. It frustrated London, though she did partly understand why he wanted to keep away, but it was doing him more harm than good. He just kept hurting.
His hair was longer, a beard on his chin. He looked chubbier now. The first Christmas after her mother's death, he was the same. It had only been a month after she had died. The second Christmas, he was thinner. The third Christmas, he gained some weight, and the fourth Christmas he lost it. Now, the fifth Christmas since her passing, he gained it back. His weight fluctuations bothered her, made her worried but he was a stubborn old man and would not listen, even if what she was right.
He fixed his glasses. "London, my dear, you look beautiful," he said in greeting. His breath was stale when she leaned down for a kiss. He kissed her cheek, grinning widely at her, his eyes holding a despondent but hopeful glow. "Seeing you always reminds me of your mother. So alike... so beautiful."
"How are you doing, Dad?" London was quick to change the subject, aware that Andrew was still at the doorway to her father's study, observing silently.
"Oh, you know, just the usual. I am fine, don't worry."
"No, I wouldn't know because we barely keep in touch," she sniped, grabbing the drink from him and setting it on his table. "That's enough. I'd like for you to meet someone."
"This holiday really is jolly isn't it?" her father laughed, though it lacked humour and sounded rather rude and sarcastic. "Gwen is getting married. I haven't even met the guy. You want me to meet someone special. Everybody is feeling the spirit, like you all forgot what Mum tried to do five years ago."
Dead silence.
London felt like she was slapped in the face. Should she feel guilty for being happy? It was Christmas and yes, there were horrible memories attached to it but she was trying to stay afloat during this time, as she suspected Gwen was doing as well. London had always been moody and pessimistic when it came to Christmas dinners after her mother's death, but this year was different. This year, she accepted her mother's death for what it was. This year she was sad, but she was also happy.
Her father's words made her feel guilty for feeling so.
"I — I never forgot," London stuttered, her voice breaking. "I could never."
She felt strong, warm arms embrace her from behind and because she was so acquainted with his body and how well it fit against hers, she knew it was Andrew that was behind her, giving her his silent support.
"Doesn't seem like it," her father bit back, finally getting onto his feet. He swayed a bit, blinked a couple of times before his eyes went above her head, at the figure behind her.
"Ah," her father smiled, the tone in his voice changing instantly, "You must be the person she wanted me to meet."
If you were sober and focused enough, you'd have noticed him standing at the doorway all this time, she wanted to yell because anger was slowly slipping into her blood and she wanted to release it in any way that she could. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek and swallowed her words.
He held out his hand. "Nice to meet you..."
"Andrew Cai," her boyfriend finished for her father, removing one hand from her shoulder and extending it to her father.
One firm handshake later and the room was back to tense silence.
"All right," London clapped her hands, smiling broadly though she had an overwhelming urge to cry. Pushing down the tears, she said, ushering the two men out of the study, "Let's go help Gwen set the table. And no, Dad, no more drinks for you."
Andrew and Gwen were the ones that mostly talked through dinner. London was silent, thinking about how much better dinner with Andrew's parents actually were. That night with his parents was challenging, especially with how straightforward his mother was, but she overall enjoyed the night. It wasn't as bad as this.
"You know, Dad," London started, cutting off the casual conversation about football that Andrew and Gwen had going on, "You could try a little harder."
"With what?" he asked.
"With Gwen, with me, with Mum."
That got him to stop eating. He raised his head, his eyes pinned on her, the stare behind it intense but London wasn't about to step down from a glare, even if it came from her father.
"Excuse me?"
"Mum's dead, Dad. I know it hurts. I live with that every day. I know it's painful. You weren't the only one who experienced that sadness. You can say losing a wife is different from losing a mother but that's a load of bullshit. You, me and Gwen — we all lost the same person. We all went through hell. We all had to pick ourselves up. Except you haven't learnt to pick yourself up, even if it's been four years. Death is... hard. There's no one way to deal with the loss of a loved one. Gwen coped with it differently. I coped with it differently. But you, Dad? You don't seem to be coping with it at all."
He banged his fork down on the table and though London flinched she refused to be intimidated by his tactics. That was what happened last year, when Gwen brought up the talk, and they'd all retreated into a silent dinner. Not this time. No, London was determined for her father to see reality. It was time to face the music, or however the hell that saying went.
When he noted that London wouldn't back down from his glare, his picked up his fork, getting back to his plate of food as he said, "I go to work, I come home. So I drink a few beers, sometimes I go for the whiskey when I'm feeling really low. But I'm working just fine. I pay the bills, I'm surviving, so all is good."
He couldn't even look her in the eyes and she couldn't decide if that was pathetic or if she should allow herself to feel sorry for him. No, empathy, London, she told herself, you've given him enough of that.
"Can you hear yourself? That sounds depressing. Dad, you need—"
"I swear to God if you say I need to go back to the therapist or check myself into rehab, I'm throwing you out of the house," he yelled, his voice rising in multiple octaves, the anger in his eyes finally getting London to shut up.
The back of her eyes burned and she looked down at her plate of food, staring intensely at it like the food on it would make her think of what she loved, food, and not this shitty father who sat before her, but her mind refused to obey.
"You can't throw us out," Gwen spoke up. "We have a guest and I don't think you're that rude to throw him out."
His eyes cut to Gwen. "You're right. I'll leave."
Gwen scoffed. "Stop it. Just stop it, Dad! Enough is enough. You do need help. And we're here for you. Your daughters love you but you've managed to push us away. Mum would have never wanted this. Do you think she's happy in Heaven watching us separated like this? Do you think she's happy watching over you being a miserable piece of shit?"
London almost choked on the bite of food she had taken. Gwen was treading on a fine line here but London was not going to stop her or even warn her. Her father needed a wake-up call.
"I did not raise daughters to talk back to me like this," their father looked from Gwen to London, disbelief on his face.
Gwen shook her head. "No, you raised your daughters to stay true to themselves and to fight for what they believe. We believe in you, Dad. We only want what's best for you. Are you even aware that watching you this miserable is hurting us too?"
Their father sighed and rubbed his temple. "I need a drink."
"Of course you do," Gwen muttered, standing up. She leaned across the table, served more food onto her plate and threw her father a bitter smile. "Enjoy your dinner — and drink which I'm sure you'll have whatever I say."
London followed the lead. She refilled hers and Andrew's plates though they weren't finished yet. "Come on, Andrew, let's go to my room."
They got up from their seats and the instant London gave her back to her father, he called out to her. "London, please."
She was tempted to turn back around, serve him a drink and console him. To hug him. But was that going to help him get better if he was just going to repeat this unhealthy cycle of his?
"No, Dad," she stood her ground. Balancing her plate with one hand, the other hand clutched Andrew's and the two of them made their way to her room. The second she set her plate down on her old study desk, the tears came pouring out.
Andrew's deep voice filled her ears with sweet nothings, telling her he was there for her, that he wasn't going anywhere. She clutched him, welcoming the embrace and sobbed until there were no more tears left to cry.
London woke up in the middle of the night in cold sweat, nightmarish images flicking before her eyes. It took her a few minutes to calm down and even her breathing, to stop the horrid images from that horrid accident from circling her mind. The nightmare was vivid, starting off with her mother's first attempt and how they found her, escaped death, that following Christmas morning. It shifted suddenly, though in her dream state it seemed like the natural flow. The scene shifted to the day she died, the events happening in a fast-forward fashion. It was as if she was reliving it all.
Wiping the tears clear from her face, she realised that her bedside was cold and empty. Curious to where Andrew was, she got off from the bed and put her feet into the fuzzy slippers she left by her bedside. She instantly felt the cold and grabbed a sweater, pulling it over her old, grey plain t-shirt. Passing Gwen's room, she paused. Was her sister okay?
London knocked once, not wanting to intrude if her sister was asleep but wanting to be there if her sister was awake, most likely for the same reason London was awake. She wondered how their dad was doing now.
"Come in," Gwen called out.
London opened the door to find her sister perched on her bed, duvet covering her body as she huddled around her laptop in the dark, tissues in hand.
"How are you feeling?" she asked as she approached her sister.
"Like shit," Gwen replied.
London sat down next to Gwen and peeked at her laptop screen. Gwen was viewing old photos. The one that currently occupied the screen was of their mother. It was the summer and they all went on a one week vacation. It was after London's GCSE's. Their mother was leaned up against the boot of the car, a cone of ice-cream in hand and a dazzling smile on her lips. Her black hair was tied up into a bun, sunglasses resting on top of her head.
She looked beautiful.
She looked happy.
"Do you really think she was happy?" Gwen voiced what they were both thinking.
London didn't know how to answer her sister. On one hand that radiant smile and glow in their mother's eyes did indicate that she was happy but on the other hand, how were they to know for sure? They were never aware that their mother felt remotely suicidal until early Christmas morning, when their mother was found almost all bled out in that car accident. And then eleven months later, almost a year passed that incident, and their mother attempted again. And succeeded.
The thoughts of how much more London and Gwen and her father could have done to help out their mum began to filter back into her mind so she quickly shook her head and stood up from the bed, putting the screen of Gwen's laptop down.
"There's no use dwelling on what could have been. We can only think of what is," London said, her voice scratchy and slightly hoarse as she blinked hard to ignore the heat behind her eyes. She thought she'd dried up all her tears with Andrew back in her room but tears never really did run out, did they?
"I suppose," Gwen whispered, a tear slipping past. She wiped it away quickly.
London held out her hand. "Come on, let's go to the kitchen and find something to eat. Or we could just save Dad by drinking all of his wines."
Gwen laughed, sniffing. "I think Dad's low on wines but he has a whole bunch of whiskey we could drink the night away with."
Hand in hand, the two sisters entered the kitchen to find their father sitting by the island counter with Andrew, two abandoned glasses of whiskey on ice sitting on the counter while Andrew rubbed their father's back in that comforting manner London knew all too well.
The sight both broke her heart and made it feel warm.
"Dad?" Gwen voiced, letting go of London's hand and approaching their father. London followed behind Gwen's footsteps.
Their father turned to face them.
"Your dad and I were just having a drink," Andrew said then sheepishly smiled, scratching the back of his neck. "Probably not the best idea but he didn't seem well and it's better drinking with company than alone."
London's father chuckled, clapping Andrew on his back. "This one is a good one, Londy," her father smiled drunkenly. "Keep him. But if he hurts you, you know how to show him what's what."
They all laughed.
"Not to worry, she has me wrapped around her little finger," Andrew said, giving London a cheeky smile.
A deep blush rose to her cheeks as he reached out for her hand.
"Girls," her father said, drawing her attention back to him. "I — I don't want to go to rehab. I don't want to move on."
His words changed the air, his tone apologetic.
"Your mum and I were fighting a lot before her first attempt," he continued, looking down at his hands. It was odd not to see them holding onto a glass of whiskey and with how he kept fidgeting with them, London suspected he was trying his best to stop himself from reaching out and taking a swig of his abandoned drink on the countertop.
"Sometimes I think it's my fault that she tried... what she tried. That car accident — it was horrible. And then she did it again, months later, with the car running directly into a truck! Was she insane? Her life was gone just like that... that other truck driver's life..."
London placed her free hand on top of his. "It wasn't your fault," she effused. "It wasn't any of our faults. And that truck driver is alive. He was severely injured but he healed over time. He is okay."
He choked on a sob. "But how could she do that? How could she have even thought of doing that? Killing herself? And putting someone else's life at risk? Did I know my wife at all?"
There was nothing that could be said to console him so both daughters embraced him. He extended his arms to hug them both back, hanging his head in between their shoulders.
Seconds later, their dad pulled back, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. He looked at Andrew and gave him a half-smile. "Welcome to the family, son."
Andrew smiled back.
London's father looked back at her and Gwen. "I don't want to do rehab. I just... I can't. Not yet at least. But, you girls were right. I do need to move on, even if I don't want to. I can't keep holding onto something that doesn't exist anymore. And I'll come to visit Porte Orlands some time. Maybe we could go see Mum together. Maybe. I'm willing to go for a few therapy sessions. I — I do need help."
Gwen smiled, throwing her arms around her father's neck and laughing. "Baby steps, Dad," she said, pulling back, the smile on her face saying just how proud she was. London's smile mirrored her sisters.
Andrew stood up, trying to leave as quietly as he could, because this was a family moment and he'd invaded enough as it was. London knew that was what he was thinking when he tried to sneak off quietly, but she latched her hand onto his arm and pulled him back.
"Didn't you hear my dad? Welcome to the family," she said softly, looking up at her boyfriend.
He smiled warmly, putting an arm around her and she fit snuggly at his side perfectly.
"This is the merriest Christmas we've had in five years," their dad said, his eyes glassy. "I know I ruined Christmas, again, but if you girls — and Andrew — could stay one more day, we could celebrate it properly tomorrow."
"We'd love that, Dad."
And just like that London's resentment towards Christmas lessened and for the first time in five years, she enjoyed it.
She beamed at everyone around her.
"Merry Christmas, everyone."