Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 151085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
But the next day Christmas comes, and they do not.
Their absence is glaring. It’s so obvious they are missed.
The house is packed for Christmas dinner, as it was when we were growing up. Our natural family is not that large, but Mama has a way of collecting people. Strays. Friends. Folks who would be alone were it not for her “adopting” them. I’ve missed how she makes our home a community unto itself. It’s loud and boisterous and much less trying than I’d thought it would be. Except when someone forgets and asks about Terry and Brandon. An awkward silence. A furtive glance my way. The last time many of them saw me, I was Brandon’s fiancée. The girl who ran up north as soon as she graduated, rarely seen back in these parts.
And now I’m back, so Terry and Brandon aren’t here for Christmas.
There are moments when I feel perfectly at home, and it’s like one of our famous Mathis family reunions. And there are times I feel like an intruder, a sojourner in a strange land.
“You make this corn pudding?” my Aunt Alberta asks Mama. She seems virtually unchanged by time. A little more gray in her hair, brown skin still relatively smooth. She still walks around the house carrying her purse like she expects somebody to steal it.
“I made it, yeah.” Mama scoops a generous portion of the corn pudding onto Alberta’s plate.
“I bet it’s not good as Terry’s,” Alberta says teasingly. “That girl can throw down just like you.”
When Alberta’s eyes land on me while I’m waiting with my own plate, her smile freezes. I smile as naturally as I can, cut a slice of red velvet cake, and head for the kitchen. It’s as crowded as the dining room, so I spread a wide smile around to everyone and keep walking to the back porch. Thank God no one is out here. I settle into one of the rocking chairs that have been here as long as I can remember. Mama and Daddy used to sit out here and watch Terry and me play in the backyard. They’d hold hands and talk while we played kick ball or climbed one of the big oak trees that separated our yard from our neighbor’s.
Tears gather in my eyes and emotion scorches my throat. Looking at the old tree, sitting in Daddy’s chair, I miss him. It floods my heart with that ache that never fully leaves no matter how long someone has been gone. And I miss those days when we were a family and this house was full of our love and laughter. I’ve spackled the cracks in my heart with friends, but today, sitting on our back porch, I miss my family.
The screen door opens and I swipe at my eyes and, not even looking up to see who it is, take a bite of cake.
“I was wondering where you got to,” Mama says, settling into the other rocking chair.
I smile and scrape at the white icing on my plate. “Just taking a minute for some quiet.”
“I hear ya. It’s a lot of folks in there.” She spoons up some corn pudding. “Everybody’s glad you came home.”
I snort, not sure that’s true, but smile and tap my fork against my mouth.
“We sure are proud of you on Broadway and getting this big movie.” She pauses, licks her lips, and continues. “I hate I didn’t make it up to New York to see you that week you got to be in the show. I had—”
“Knee surgery. I remember, Mama. It’s fine. I know you would have come if you could have.” I say it, but I’m not sure I believe it. It was hard for me to come back here after Terry and Brandon married and had Quianna. And Mama never seemed too pressed about coming to see me.
“You know I don’t fly,” Mama says, like she’s reading my mind. “So it’s hard to get up—”
“I know. It’s fine.”
An apology would feel so much better than an excuse. I’ve always thought that about Terry and Brandon, and I think it now as I hear Mama’s reasons for not supporting me the way she could have. She’s not the only one to blame for the space between us. I’ve used work and other things as an excuse not to come home. We’ve danced around this for more than a decade and things won’t get better until we stop.
“Where did Terry and Brandon go?” I ask.
Mama’s surprised eyes meet mine in the glow of the back porch light. “Um, one of his co-workers invited them over for dinner.”
“Oh.” I push the moist cake around my plate. “I’m surprised they went and didn’t want to be with you and family on Christmas.”
“I think they . . .” She blows out a tired sigh. “I guess they didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”