Back to December

Five

December 21st, 2022

    The smell of freshly brewed coffee and waffles wafts through the house, growing stronger as I walk down the stairs. Mom never passes up the opportunity to make an elaborate family breakfast, especially when we were all home, "Ah, there she is," Mom smiles as I walk into the kitchen. She was still wearing her bed robe, her feet clad with a pair of fuzzy slippers that I got her for Christmas last year, "now we can all eat breakfast." 

    I wish that when she said all, she meant just us, but Nikki stood at moms' side, sipping from a steaming cup of coffee, while Wyatt sat at the dining room table, typing away at his phone. He rubs his forehead, engrossed in whatever he's reading. "Perfect," Harper walks in from the dining room attached the kitchen. Despite it being first thing in the morning, she looks ready for the day, already changed from her PJs into a pair of ripped jeans and a hoodie that I'm sure belongs to Charlie, "I'm starving, and Skye's getting impatient too... apparently, we're 'off schedule.'" She informs us, creating air quotes with her fingers.

    Mom and Nikki share a look, walking ahead of Harper and me into the dining room. "You're not allowed to sleep in anymore," Harper whispers, trailing behind me as I walk over to the automated coffee machine, pouring myself a much-needed cup. "Mom and Dad are so interested in Wyatt and his career, I've spent the whole morning listening to him talk about it. He's so..." She drags off, trying to find the right word, "pretentious."

    I chuckle, reaching for the cream and sugar as my coffee finishes pouring, "That is the exact reason I will be sleeping in," I inform her, stirring the liquid, "at least you don't have to share a bathroom with him."

    Harper and I fall silent as we enter the kitchen. Mom and Dad both sit at the heads of the table, with Nikki sitting at mom's side and Wyatt at hers, "Marley!" Skye pats the seat beside her, directly across from Wyatt, "sit beside me."

    Despite wanting to take the seat beside mom, not facing Wyatt, I slide into the seat beside my youngest sister, ruffling her hair, "what's that?" I ask Skye, nodding towards the piece of crumpled-up paper laying on the table in-between us. It was a list, written in dad's messy penmanship with crayons, stickers adorned the rest of the paper, covering every empty space.

    "It's our Christmas to-do list," Skye announces. As everyone begins piling food onto their plates, dad makes Skye's plate as she speaks, "I have planned an activity for us to do every single day."

    "You sound like Lizzie," Harper winks towards our younger sister, reaching over to peek at the list.

    I chuckle as Skye swats Harper's hand away, "you can't peek." She shakes her head, pouting, "every day is supposed to be a surprise."

    Harper and I share a look of amusement, shaking our heads before turning back to our food. Silence falls over the table as we all begin to eat. Even Skye, who's never quiet for long, sits silently, stuffing her mouth with waffles drenched in maple syrup. "So, Marley," Nikki begins, clearing her throat. I look over at her, well aware of the way Wyatt is watching me, "how's city life treating you? I remember when your mom and I lived there during college," She looks over at mom, both of them sharing a mischievous grin, "there's never a dull moment in New York City, right?"

     "Right," I nod. It seemed as if my life in the city now and the life mom and Nikki lived there were completely different. I had no doubt they went to new clubs every night and had friends all over the city. For them, it was a never-ending adventure through the city that never sleeps. I hate lying to my family about what my life in the city is truly like. Normally, I'd turn the conversation around; but with Wyatt's eyes on me, filled with curiosity, I keep the conversation going, forcing a smile onto my face. "It's amazing, even better than what I imagined living in the city would be like."

     Once again, not a complete lie. Five years ago, when I imagined my life in the city, it was entirely different than the life in living now, "I'm jealous," Nikki smiles at me, "you know, I met Tom during my time in the city..."

    I did. Mom also met dad while living in the city; they always talked about it. I think mom expected my time there to end in the same way as hers, which I doubted would happen. Even if I wanted to, I don't have time to date. "I remember," I nod. I'd grown up hearing mom and Nikki's tales of New York City, they were the reason Wyatt and I had wanted to move there so badly.

    Silence falls over the table again, this time, an uncomfortable one. I don't think any of us know what to say regarding Tom. So, I pick at my waffle instead. My plate is a mess of melted whipped cream and strawberry juice. Across from me, Wyatt's waffle is perfectly cut into perfect pieces, his fruit off to the side, along with his syrup to dip his waffle in. Even his plate of breakfast food looked annoyingly flawless.

    "I'm sure you're not used to the cold weather here," Mom breaks the silence, looking over to Wyatt, "hopefully, we'll get some snow before Christmas."

    Wyatt laughs; it sounds forced and un-genuine, like almost everything else he does. "Yeah, it's definitely colder than LA." He nods, "it's nice, though. I've missed it."

    I resist the urge to scoff. If he missed it, he would have come back a long time ago.

    "And California's good?" Dad asks, his mouth full.

     Wyatt nods, his posture so straight it looks like he's in a job interview and not at family breakfast, "It's great." He smiles, a dazzling smile that I'm sure he's used to putting on for the cameras, "I love it," he looks over at me before saying, "it's even better than I'd ever imagined."

    Harper, who's sipping on her orange juice, chokes slightly, catching onto the fact that Wyatt is repeating what I'd said about my life in the city. I take in a breath, pursing my lips. I wasn't going to give Wyatt the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of me. He watches me expectantly. His thick brow raised slightly as he waits for me to react. "What's first on the list, Skye," I broke our eye contact, looking over at the youngest once more.

    All around, Skye's mouth is covered in whipped cream and syrup, making me smile slightly, "We need to get a tree," She declared, shooting me a gap-toothed smile, "and decorations."

    "We have decorations in the loft, sweetheart," Mom reminds Skye, setting her now empty coffee cup down, "we don't need to buy anything new."

    "Iris and Elliot need ornaments," Harper reminds mom. It was a mini tradition of ours. Whenever someone new joined the family, they got an ornament that represents them on the tree. We always buy them the day we decorate the tree, "I'll text Liz. She and James can run to the store and grab last-minute decorations before coming over."

    "And the three of us can go grab the tree while the parents get the rest of the décor down from the loft," I add, nudging Skye slightly; whenever I was home, we try to do as many "sister" activities as possible.

     "Can Wyatt come?" Skye asks,

      I share another look with Harper, silently communicating with our eyes. Of course, neither of us want Wyatt there; it was bad enough he was staying at our house and crashing our family Christmas. We don't need him invading our time together as sisters. Still, Skye clearly wants him there; her blue eyes are wide, hopeful that the boy she's just met can join us.

    "Sure," I nod, trying my best not to sound entirely repulsed by the idea of Wyatt coming along with us. 

    "Why don't you all go get ready?" Mom suggests, shooting me a thankful look, "we can clean up here."

    Skye nods eagerly, zooming out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her room. Harper sighs loudly, looking at me as she rolls her eyes, annoyed. It's not like I could've said no to Skye, though, unlike the rest of us, she has no idea of the hurt the Oliver's caused. She's just trying to make him feel included.

    "I don't have to go," Wyatt says as we approach our rooms, stopping me before I can enter mine. He sounds uncomfortable, "I can stay behind."

    I want that, but the sound of Skye humming Christmas carols in her room reminds me of why I said yes in the first place, "and disappoint the six-year-old who asked you to come?" I ask him, shaking my head, "Just don't talk to me. Okay?"