He fucking loves my dad, and my dad isn’t the biggest fan of dogs, so go figure. I swear Fat Rabbit does it on purpose.
“Hey Dad,” I say to him, as we go up the front steps. Fat Rabbit is jumping up on him repeatedly, trying in vain to kiss his face, though he’s only getting as far as his thighs.
“Fatty Rab, get down,” Dex chides him, grabbing the dog and scooping him up in his arms where he thrashes around, trying to lick anyone, anything, to death.
“He must be excited for Santa,” my father says, chuckling. It’s a dorky thing to say, but it makes me feel good for a moment, because it makes everything seem normal.
Then when I get close enough to hug my father, I see that things aren’t normal at all.
“You’ve lost weight,” I tell him, and I know it’s not the best thing to say to someone and I don’t really mean it as a compliment either. I mean, he’s lost a lot of weight, his pasta belly having shrunk dramatically, but I know it’s not because he’s on a health kick.
“So have you,” he says to me, holding me tight. “You’re skin and bones, pumpkin.”
That’s not even a little true. Whatever weight I had lost I’m sure I’ll gain it back after Christmas. “I am not,” I tell him. I pull back and give him a quick smile. It breaks my heart to see him like this. He’s smiling too, but it’s a brave face. Now that I know what’s really going on, now that I know the truth of what he’s dealing with, it’s no wonder he looks so tired and worn out. All he must be doing is worrying about me and Ada.
And my mother.
At least tonight I get a chance to set him straight.
Dex and my father exchange pleasantries, though now that I know they’ve been talking on the regular, I can see both how comfortable they are with each other, and also how much they’re not saying.
We step inside, the house warm and toasty and smelling like gingerbread cookies. I can’t tell if it’s the room spray that my mother used to use all the time, or if one of them has actually baked cookies. Either way, Dex puts the dog down and he starts ripping around the living and kitchen, searching for Ada.
“Ada made cookies,” my father says. “They’re not half-bad.”
“Ada?” Dex says in surprise. “She didn’t poison them, did she? I mean, she knew I would be here, and she knows how I feel about cookies.”
“Dex, you say that about every pastry,” I point out.
“What can I say, I’m a man who knows what he likes.” He grins at me. “The sweet stuff.”
Don’t get weird, I warn him in my head, before he can add some sort smart ass comment about the filling or something.
We file into the kitchen where my father pours us red wine and gestures to the cookies cooling on the rack. He then checks the salmon in the oven, our traditional Christmas Eve meal. It smells divine.
I’m about to ask him where Ada is when she appears in the doorway.
I have to do a double-take.
She looks surprisingly good. I only say that because my father seems worse and she was looking awfully tired and skinny last time. She’s still skinny, and she still seems a bit tired, but she’s gone lighter on the makeup and she’s cut her hair to just above shoulder length, sleek, straight, and shiny, the color more wheat than bleach.
“Well, if it isn’t Santa’s little helper,” she says, and then I realize she’s talking to Fat Rabbit, who is desperately trying to climb up her. She picks him up, using him as a shield against hugs, and walks into the kitchen.
“When did you cut your hair?” I ask, feeling both awkward and left out of the loop. “And you had it colored. It looks really good.”
She gives me a half-smile. “Thanks. DeeBee from down the street, she took me out. She said she wanted a girls’ day or whatever. She took me to this super old lady salon and I was so convinced that I was going to walk out of there like Blanche from the Golden Girls, but actually the stylist did a really good job.” She bats at the ends of her hair. “Still shorter than I would have liked, but oh well.”
She looks from me to Dex and back to me again. “You guys look…tired.”
“We all look tired,” my father says, closing the oven door and putting the oven mitts away. “I’m sure we’re all tired.” He exchanges a quick glance with Dex.
I want to start talking now, let it all out, but I know it’s best to wait until dinner. It’s just that things are awkward between all of us now, and I hate that, and even though Ada has some wine and hangs out with us in the kitchen, we’re making small talk. Like, I don’t do small talk with my sister, ever.
Eventually though, the wine warms us over, the dog calms down, and dinner is served. We all sit around the table, a playlist of Christmas classics playing softly in the background, and after my father says grace, we start to eat.
I decide to let everyone get a few good bites in (the salmon, as always, is really good) before I start my spiel.
I look at Dex and he gives me a nod of support. I take in a large gulp of the cabernet sauvignon and then take my knife, tapping it against the glass, like I’m making a speech at a wedding.
Ada and my father, who are sitting across from us, look to me in surprise.
“I have something I want to talk about,” I say, and from the way they both tense up, I think they know what’s coming.
“Is this like the Festivus airing of grievances?” Ada asks warily.
I smirk at her Seinfeld reference, because she’s actually kind of right.
“It might seem that way, but just stay with me,” I tell her. I take in a deep breath. “Ada, I know things are really hard for you right now. I know that you love Jay and I know Jacob sent him away.”
Ada’s eyes go round, mainly because my father probably doesn’t know about any of this. And from the look on my father’s face, I know that’s true.
“Jacob sent Jay away?” he asks. “I thought he just moved?”
“Dad,” I tell him. “I’m going to say some things that are going to seem insane, but you have to just accept it as truth, okay? It’s going to go against everything you were taught at church, it’s going to go against every logical wall in your brain, but for your sake and our sake, you have to accept it.”
“Perry,” Ada hisses. “What are you doing?”
“I’m doing what needs to be done. For all of us.”
She looks at Dex for support. “Dex,” she pleads.
“Just let your sister speak,” he says sternly.
I give him a grateful smile, then turn my attention back to them.
“Ada, I know that you think what Jacob did was wrong, and I think he’s wrong too. And I know how much it must suck to have to still work with the guy after he sent Jay away. I’m with you on that. I just don’t want you to keep what you’re feeling bottled up, because if I’ve learned anything lately, it’s that it can be destructive. Especially for people like us.”
“What do you mean, people like you?” my dad asks. He turns to Ada. “And how are you working with Jacob? Doing what? Did you get a job?”
Ada pleads with me. Don’t tell him.
I answer back. I have to.