Despite growing up together, Catherine Simmons and Mattis Reed were never close.
Cat was inseparable from Mattis' younger sister, Chloé, while he was busy running around on the football field.
But when Cat's new dream drags her across the country du...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Christmas dinner was delicious and a lot less tense, with the Reeds there to spread laughter. Sandwiched between Chloé and Mattis, I could almost forget my parents at the far end of the table.
The wine helped, too.
After dessert Nate, Andrew, Chloé, Mattis, and I gathered by the fireplace playing cards and telling stories.
My father placed all the gifts under the giant Christmas tree my mother had painstakingly decorated before my brother or I arrived. Not even as kids were we allowed near the tree. She always valued aesthetics over the potential bonding experience of doing it together. The pristine silver ornaments are neatly placed, giving a weird symmetrical look to the tree.
At the Reeds', it's a tradition for everyone to decorate together. Their tree is usually delightfully chaotic. Chloé and Mattis each have a unique ornament that's theirs, and when I was around eight, I got my own one too. I used to head over there before leaving for Austria, hanging it on one of the tallest branches, loving that a piece of me got to spend Christmas with my other family. Maybe one day, I can spend the holidays with them instead of going on this awful trip, so my parents can pretend we're some perfect family.
Once the alcohol seeps in, paired with all the food making us sleepy, Nate and Andrew slink off to bed. With my parents and Janice having retired hours ago, I allow myself to relax into Mattis' side, playing a few more hands with Chloé before the three of us call it a night, too.
I'm sharing my bedroom with Chloé, and there's a welcome familiarity to sliding under the covers with her, sharing hushed stories in the dark. There are so many things we miss out on, living at each our end of the country. Eventually, Chloé doses of. I lie on my back staring at the ceiling, sleep a foreign concept.
It doesn't matter that the wine is buzzing comfortably in my blood. I'm drowsy, sure, but unconsciousness evades me. It'd been the same last night, too, but I don't care today.
For once, I welcome the insomnia. I wait until I'm sure she's asleep. Chloé is one of those types that goes into REM sleep immediately, and it'll take an army to wake her.
Quietly, I slip out of bed, tiptoeing to the door. I grab the handle, the floorboard creaking under me.
"Don't even think about it," a muffled voice speaks behind me.
I twist to stare at my best friend. Had she just been pretending?
I can see her silhouette in the streaks of moonlight coming through the blinds. She has an arm draped over her head, eyes closed, and she looks so peaceful. I've been duped.
"I was just going to the bathroom," I lie. Badly.
"No, you weren't," Chloé says, yawning. "You peed before bed, and you have a bladder of steel."
She's right. Dammit.
She shuffles on the bed, turning onto her side. "You were just going downstairs to see what everyone got you for Christmas."
