Page 24 of Holly Jolly July
“Eight?” Her mouth hangs open.
I shrug. “My parents wanted a big family. And now I have three nieces and four nephews and one nibling.”
“What’s a nibling?”
“They’re enby,” I explain. “That’s the gender-neutral term for your sibling’s kid.”
She nods appreciatively. “Nice.”
“Yeah. Anyway, Christmas with a fake tree isn’t Christmas at all. I’d rather have no tree than a fake one. So, no tree.”
“Your family Christmases sound like they’re from a storybook.”
My chest grows warm as I recall all the memories, then quickly cools. “It was. For a long time.”
“Not anymore?”
I shake my head. “After Grandpa passed, Grandma moved to a home and sold the farm. We tried to keep the tradition going, but
most everyone decided to do their own Christmases, or go to Mexico, or snowbird down in Arizona. People grew up, left home,
moved away. It was never really the same.”
“I’m sorry.”
Christmas now is an empty apartment, me decorating the place by myself while watching Christmas movies, walking down snowy
Vancouver streets to look at all the lights and window shop solo. Christmas had been the time of year that had filled my heart
and kept me going all year long, but now it’s hollow, memories echoing through my mind of how good it used to be, and how
good it will be again once I have a family of my own. I thought I had a chance of that with Matt. I was wrong.
“At least I got to have it for a while. You never got to have it at all.”
Mariah shakes her head. “Nope. We never even had a tree.”
I gasp, mortified.
“And,” she adds, “we had to wait to open our presents until after Christmas dinner at my grandparents’ house.”
I lean away from her, my face contorting with over-the-top horror, which elicits a small smile from Mariah.
“ And I was the only kid there,” she says, continuing the nightmare. “It was always quiet and boring. Except when my aunt came.” She trails off for a moment, lost in her thoughts. “Then it was interesting.”
“I’m glad at least one person in your family kept things fun.” I turn back to the TV as Kevin McCallister lives it up in his
parents’ mansion all alone.
We settle back into the silence, but this time it’s a little less uncomfortable. Maybe it’s the conversation, maybe we’re
becoming friends, or maybe it’s the bottle and a half of wine we’ve consumed. I do feel pleasantly warm and buzzed.
“What do you think Kevin’s parents do for work?” I ask, interrupting the quiet.
A hint of a smile meets Mariah’s face, which is rosy from drink. “I’m sure the mom is the leader of a crime syndicate.”
I grin. “Maybe the dad is a porn star.”
“Or they could be—”
Mariah’s phone rings. She looks at it and her smile falls off her face.
“Who is it?” I ask, leaning in.
She shows me the phone. Jax .
“Answer it!” I urge.
“What? No! What do I say?”
“Just pretend everything is normal.”
She shakes her head. “I suck at lying.”
“It’s not lying,” I argue. “It’s acting .”
“Yeah, I suck at that, too.” She worries her bottom lip with her teeth.
The phone goes silent, and we release slow exhales. Then we both startle at the sound of my phone ringing. I look at the screen,
then flash it to Mariah. Matt.
Her eyes widen. “That asshole! I didn’t answer so he calls you?”
“Yeah!” I agree. “He called you first before calling me?” Without another thought, I answer it, forcing a smile to my face
so I’ll sound like I’m in a good mood. “Hello? Oh, heyyyyy! Yeah, just at home... Tonight?”
I glance at Mariah, whose eyes widen to say, What?
I return her wide-eyed stare. I know, right?
Mariah glares. The nerve!
I roll my eyes in agreement. What a dickhead!
“Sorry, I can’t tonight,” I say into the receiver. “I have to be up super early tomorrow, but I’m sure we can figure out another
time. I’m just off to bed now.” I make all the excuses I need to hustle the conversation along until I can finally hang up,
both Mariah and I bursting out with expletives.
“That two-timing—”
“—lying scumbag of a—”
“—fuckboy player!”
Mariah and I seethe, then simultaneously gulp down the rest of our wine.
“Seriously.” I shake my head in disbelief. “Who does that? He really should be taught a lesson.”
“Agreed.” Mariah nods. “Men—sorry— people who lie and manipulate others to get into their beds are the worst. Who knows how many women he’s hurt in the past? How many
more he’ll harm?”
“Since we know about it, we should do something about it.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s basically a moral obligation at this point.”
“Totally.”
“If we don’t do something about it,” I say, getting louder, more passionate, “then who will? He’ll go on thinking this is
okay, that there aren’t repercussions for being a lying, cheating bastard.”
She raises her empty glass to me. “Preach, sister.”
I stand and raise my glass in the air. “This isn’t just about us. This is about women, everywhere, who have been lied to,
cheated on, and fucked with.”
“Hallelujah.” Mariah goes to drink more wine, then pauses, noting her empty glass.
“We gotta teach him a lesson,” I continue, pacing.
Mariah fetches the half-empty bottle, then refills her glass. “Mmm-hmm.”
“We gotta—” I look to the TV, my attention caught by the two goons falling into one of Kevin McCallister’s traps. I snap my
fingers and point to the screen. “That’s it!”
“What?” she asks, pausing her pour.
“We Home Alone him!”
Mariah shakes her head slowly, confused. “What?”
I sit on the couch, so close to Mariah I’m practically on her lap. “We’ll set up traps and pranks and make his life miserable!”
She hesitates. “I don’t know...”
“Come on,” I plead. “It will be fun. A few harmless pranks. We can’t really let him get away with this, can we?”
Mariah considers this for a moment, then nods. “You’re right. He can’t go on thinking this is okay to do. And, honestly, revenge
sounds pretty good at this point.”
“Yes!” I bounce in my seat. “Revenge!”
She rolls her eyes, lips pursed against a smile.
I hold out my hand to hers. “Deal?”
Mariah regards my hand for a second, then shrugs, taking it in hers for a shake.
I grin, squeezing her hand. “Looks like Matt’s made his way onto the naughty list.”