The Best of Us

thirty

THIRTY

DECEMBER 2014

JEM'S FLIGHT WAS delayed and I was itching with impatience. The 1947 version of Miracle on 34th Street was playing on the TV and I was sitting on the edge of the sofa, unable to concentrate on it for more than a couple of seconds at a time. Every minute or so, I'd be unable to stop myself from getting up, pacing the room, walking to the window and peering through the blinds to see if maybe I'd be able to see the car before I heard it, trying hard not to catch sight of the Masons and failing every time. But then nothing would happen, the road through the neighbourhood would remain silent or— frustratingly— one of our neighbours would drive down instead, and I'd force myself back to the edge of the sofa with my leg bouncing uncontrollably and my clammy palms smoothing restlessly over my thighs.

It was already hours after dinner— Dad, Thomas and I had suffered through a mostly silent meal in the dining room— and the sky was dark and empty, the street lamps burning out the stars. The living room was lit with a gentle, golden glow from the lamps and the Christmas tree lights were flashing in the corner of the room. The tree had only been up for around a week and Dad had set it up alone without inviting Thomas or I to join him. I didn't need to ask him to know that it was because he thought that we were too old to get excited about the Christmas tree and apparently also too old to give him a hand. It bothered me more than I cared to admit but I knew that he liked getting things done without worrying about people getting in his way and he always made it look nice— Mom's angel was still at the top, too— so I had mostly let it go.

He'd returned to his office after dinner and I knew that he'd be there until Jem and Thomas arrived. Thomas had driven to the airport to pick him up and I was hoping that he might have forgiven me just enough to invite me to go with him, but he left without telling me. I hadn't even known that he was leaving until I heard the front door close. By the time I got to the window, he was already pulling out of the driveway.

More than an hour had passed since then but it felt longer. Seconds trudged and minutes dragged and I kept waiting, gnawing my bottom lip and wringing and twisting and squeezing my hands in a useless attempt to steady them. Agitation was crawling, slow and hot, through my stomach and my nervous energy was ringing in the hollows of my bones. It was like being in a hospital, like waiting for bad news from the doctor.

As soon as I heard the car pulling into the driveway, I froze like a dog sensing an intruder and then, when I heard doors slamming and the two of them walking up the porch steps, my energy swelled and burst inside of me. Springing to my feet, I rushed into the hall, threw the door open, and stood face-to-face with Thomas. He scowled at me. My heart twinged.

Without saying anything, he, holding Jem's bags, shouldered past me and into the house, his jaw locked and his brow furrowed, his eyes flat and hard. I watched him heading towards the stairs and, remembering what he'd left behind, immediately turned away from him.

Jem was standing on the porch, a shadow with more brightness than its owner, with his hands in the pockets of his fastened beige woollen coat, and his brown scarf wrapped neatly around his neck. He flashed me a smile, his cheekbones bright and his teeth pearly, and, before he could say anything, flooded with relief, I threw my arms around him.

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and rubbed my back with a firm hand, and I was surrounded by the smell of his cologne, the crisp winter air; the thick warmth of his coat, the hardness of his shoulder; his cold cheek pressed against mine; the silence, the stillness. We stood on the porch alone together under the starless sky; the pale white moon, the shepherd who'd lost all of her sheep to the streetlights and that great, dark mouth and so watched after us instead; the snow on the ground thickened into another white blanket on the grass, pearly and powdery next to our shovelled driveway. It had been falling all day and had only stopped some hours ago.