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Melena – All I Want for Christmas

My parents’ arrivalwas a relief. My brothers less so. They’d each play a part in breaking the tension between Jimmy and me. It had been all I could do to keep my hands off Jimmy while he was home convalescing. The cast didn’t make him less sexy. Except for the times he was being an asshole. Then it was easy to ignore the attraction. My cooking efforts were not up to his standards. I was happy to make him a sandwich when he couldn’t get around the kitchen easily, but when he told me I used too much mustard as tactlessly as possible, he was lucky I didn’t sabotage his next meal with chili powder. I could always claim it was a secret family recipe. And it was. For torture. My brothers and I had played kitchen pranks on each other more times than I could count. I still shuddered, thinking of the sauerkraut Zander introduced to my peanut butter and jelly when I was a pesky eight-year-old.

I’d had a successful post-surgical follow up with Dr. Webb; from his perspective, I was healed. And it was true I felt better. No more racing pulse or weakness. My faulty organ was whole. But my heart wouldn’t truly be whole for a while. Maybe never. That depended on Jimmy and what happened next. His feelings were a mystery.

We’d bumped along with him at home. I’d taken as much time off as I could afford, but eventually I had to go back to work. I counted myself lucky many of my clients were willing to reschedule. The next few weeks would be a hell of back-to-back appointments, but I’d make it work. Leaving Jimmy home alone wasn’t an option when he got out of the hospital. He’d been there for me at every step of my illness, and I couldn’t imagine not doing the same.

At the beginning of our relationship, I feared he’d change me. And I was right. But so wrong. It wasn’t that my dreams mattered less, it was that my life with Jimmy had become about so much more. He supported my goals and made them easier to achieve, not harder. It was one thing I hadn’t counted on...having a partner who wanted me to succeed. Yes, sometimes taking care of him trumped a day at work, but in the long run, he’d made my dreams his own. As we talked about the plans for our house, the projects to make it a home, he’d casually offered to help me fix up my spa building when I found one. If I didn’t love him before, that would have sealed the deal. Jimmy was the best. Also, the worst. If I thought he was cranky with me home, it paled in comparison to his attitude once I went back to work. He was clearly bored. Video games and TV couldn’t hold his attention, but he enjoyed sniping with me.

At times, the air was ripe with things left unsaid. I didn’t try to tell him I loved him after the hospital. But I wanted to. I sensed he had something to say to me, but I was afraid. Afraid it would be goodbye. Especially once I healed from my surgery. Was he done with me, but not sure how to break the news? It would be my luck to realize I loved a husband who no longer wanted me. We had almost nine months left in our agreement. Would it be enough for him to develop feelings of his own?

My parents were sure to break the ice. Or break us. Time would tell.

“Melly, I forgot my salt. You have salt, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mom. We have salt. News flash: they also carry salt at the grocery stores here.”

“Melly. You know I like my ingredients just so. When I heard Jimmy was laid up with his injury, I thought, this is the perfect time to share all of our family recipes with him!”

I did not share my mother’s enthusiasm. She was a competent cook. Most of the time. Other times, she got distracted and bullied forward and pretended things were fine. Like the time she used sugar instead of salt in her cheddar broccoli soup. Or the time she’d over-spiced the taco meat. I’d gotten a glass of milk to avoid a complete meltdown. My dad had pushed through, but I’d caught the twinkle of tears at the corner of his eyes. They were mouth burning. But we pretended, for her sake.

“What are you planning to make, Mom?”

“All of your favorites. You told me he likes to cook, so I brought all of your most-loved recipes from childhood.”

Was now the time to tell her my tastes had changed somewhat since I thought noodles doused in ketchup was a good idea? I took one look at her excited face. Nope.

“Gee, that sounds great.”

My dad couldn’t care less about the kitchen, but he was like a bloodhound on Jimmy’s trail. “Where is this husband of yours?”

I fluttered my hands. “He’s out running an errand with his friend, Chase.”

My mom gave me the look. “He really exists right?”

I deadpanned. “Sure, Mom. I can totally afford this beautiful house on my own. The husband you met via video chat is a myth. Yes, Mom. Jimmy exists. And I put a ring on it.”

She glanced at my left hand. “Are you sure about that?”

“Figuratively speaking, yes. We don’t need rings to be married.”

My brothers chose that moment to draw up behind them with their bags. “What? Your husband doesn’t exist, Melly? You making up stories again?” asked Zander. His dark head tilted to the side as he considered my expression.

“Come inside, you brats. Let me give you the tour before Jimmy gets home.”

I walked them through the house, and my mom admired the kitchen before turning to my dad. “Andrik, we should remodel our kitchen like this. It’s so nice!”

My dad’s expression remained stoic, but I was sure his eyes crossed for a moment. My mom was a serial remodeler—hazard of the trade when they could do it themselves.

“Thanks, Mom. We like it.”

My brother Ivan snorted. “What, Melly. It’s not like you had anything to do with the kitchen. You guys just moved in; it already looked like this, didn’t it?”

“Yes, Ivan, it was already like this.”

I got my parents settled in the guest room on my old bed. I tried not to reflect on what the bed had seen or might see in future. It was now the guest bed, and my parents were guests. My brothers were stuck with the couches even though the one from my old apartment was too short for either of them. I let them battle for who got what. My money was usually on Zander since he was older, but Ivan was crafty.

I glanced at the clock. Jimmy had been gone for hours. My parents were going to think he was fictional if he didn’t get home soon.