Back to December

Three

"Marley?" My name slips out of his mouth like it was second nature. Like me, Wyatt had changed a lot over the last five years. His brown hair, which he used to keep cut short and styled with gel, was longer now, his curls free of any product. He still had a slim physique, but he no longer looked lanky like he had when we were teenagers. He was a few inches taller now, his features sharper and more prominent. He didn't look anything like the boy I used to know.

    Everything about him felt unfamiliar, except for his eyes. They were still the same sea of piercing green, rimmed with a thin rim of blue on the edges. These eyes used to be a source of comfort to me. One look at them, and I'd instantly feel a sense of reassurance. His eyes were a reminder that I wasn't alone. Now, looking at them made anger bubble up inside, all the hurt I'd buried away causing my heart to sink deep in my chest. 

   "Marles?" My dad called out my name. By now, they could tell it wasn't James at the door. He and I would have headed straight to the kitchen and greeted one another excitedly, "who is it?"

    Despite my voice feeling trapped in my throat, I rasp out, "I think it's for you." I call back bitterly. Turning around before Wyatt or his mom, who's standing beside him, can say anything else. I don't stay behind to see my parents and sisters walk out of the kitchen, knowing that my sisters will be joining me up here in a matter of seconds.

   I knew whatever secret they were keeping wasn't good, but this wasn't just a minor change to our Christmas. This felt like some sort of betrayal. Both of my parents know better than anyone just how hard it was on me when Wyatt cut me off. Both saw how long it took for me to finally move on... why would they do this to me?

    As I expected, not even a minute later, as I'm seated on my bed, my head resting in my hands, Lizzie and Harper walk into my room, neither bothering to knock as they storm in, "Marles," Lizzie lets out a shallow breath as she says my name, immediately taking the seat next to me, Harper follows suit, sitting on my other side, "You okay?"

     I fear that if I start crying, I won't be able to stop. I'll go back to being the sad and hurt girl from high school who had no idea who to be without her best friend by her side. So, instead, despite the heavy sadness and hurt weighing my chest down, I laugh. Shaking my head at how absurd this all is.

   "Oh, yeah, definitely," I nod my head, my tone laced with sarcasm, "cause who doesn't want their ex-best friend, who they haven't spoken to in over five years showing up for Christmas. I'm fine. Everything is fine."

    "Well, I'm not fine," Harper blurts out, "I can't believe they didn't tell us. I mean, I thought their secret was that Nana and Papa were visiting for Florida for the holidays, but that," She gestures to my door angrily, "how did they expect us to be instantly okay with that."

     They didn't expect us to be, mom and dad know us. While I had my obvious reasons for disliking Wyatt and not wanting him here, so did Lizzie and Harper. For starters, this is the twin's first Christmas, there was no way Lizzie would allow anyone to ruin that, and Harper is the most loyal person you will ever meet. If you hurt someone she cares about, you hurt her too. Both of them disliked Wyatt just as much as I did.

    "What are we supposed to do?" Lizzie asks, still rocking an asleep Iris in her arms. I wish I could feel as peaceful as my sleeping niece right now, "we can't just force them to leave."

    It sounded harsh, telling Nikki and Wyatt that they weren't welcome here, but it also sounded like the perfect payback for them abandoning us. They chose not to be our "family" anymore, and they have no right to assume we're going to accept them with open arms after all these years, "why can't we?" I question, "I mean, this is our Christmas." The idea sounded liberating, going downstairs, looking Wyatt dead in the eye and telling him to leave. For the first time since I opened the front door, a small smile crept onto my lips, a smirk forming.

    "I agree," Harper nods, a mischievous smirk forming on her lips.

     Both of us turn to Lizzie at the same time. I knew Harper wouldn't be hard to convince, even if she doesn't admit it out loud, she'll do anything to make Lizzie and me happy. Lizzie though, hates conflict. It's something she actively avoids. So telling the Oliver's to leave is not her style.

    The sound of someone rapping their knuckles on my door breaks off our conversation before Lizzie can agree, followed by mom peeking her head in. She doesn't even try to fake a smile; her guilt is apparent, "Marley, sweetie," She frowns, walking into my room. Dad follows behind her, his head hung low. "We are so sorry. We should have told you sooner."

    "You should've told me before inviting them here." I correct her, sitting up straighter. I can tell by how mom quirks her head to the side that she's shocked by how calm I'm acting. In a way, I am too. Wyatt Oliver is downstairs, and I'm not laying in my bed, crying into my pillow? The Marley that cried for days after Wyatt left would be shocked. I never thought I'd move on. Yet here I am now.

    "We didn't," Dad is quick to say, shaking his head, "invite them here, that is. Your mother and I didn't invite the Oliver's for Christmas."

    "They asked to?" Harper asks, scoffing slightly, "why would they do that?"

    I nod my head in agreement as mom and dad share a glance. I hadn't noticed it until now, but they don't just look guilty. They look sad, "I guess the Oliver's just wanted to be around family this Christmas..." Mom drags off before looking back at the three of us.

    I wanted to argue back that the Oliver's were not our family anymore, but then it clicked. Mom and dad's expressions weren't ones of sadness; they were ones of grief. Tom, Wyatt's dad, died a few months ago, we had learned through the tabloids. Even if it had been years since any of us had seen the Oliver's, his passing was conflicting. No matter what happened between me and Wyatt, Tom Oliver used to be like a second father to me. His death struck all of us in a way, even if it'd been years since we'd seen him.

    "I don't know what you expect us to do." I finally say, keeping my calm expression, "they haven't been our family for a long time."

    Once again, Harper nods her head in agreement, silently siding with me. Lizzie, on the other hand, stays frozen for a minute, her eyes drifting down to Iris as she processes mom and dad's words. Her hurt expression slowly forms into one of remorse, "They should stay," She says, after a minute or so of silence, "no one should be alone on Christmas."

    "They're not alone though," I remind her, raising my voice slightly, "why can't they just spend Christmas with their snooty LA friends? Clearly, they were good enough to ditch us for. So why aren't they good enough for Christmas?"

    "Marley," My dad bent down, looking me in the eye. I hate the look in his eye. It was one I was all too familiar with; he's silently telling me I was better than this. I wasn't, but the look in my dad's eyes was enough to make me sigh. I don't care about Wyatt or whether he's alone for Christmas, but I can't do this to his mom or my parents. I can't disappoint them.

    "Fine," I break the silence, my shoulders slumping, "they can stay."