Christmas used to be my favorite holiday.
Used to be.
But, this time ‘round, as Naomi sets up our fake Pine tree, all I can remember is Mandy, by my side, her hair tied back into a loose braid. As usual, I was walking her home after arts’ club, and, by seven, the sun had gone down, engulfed by greedy trees. Normally, I’d leave before her father reared his demon-like head. But, just as I was about to turn around on her doorstep, giving her one last kiss, the door opened.
It was Holt.
He stared at me with these large, oval eyes, almost like eggs, and then he turned his glare to Mandy, whose face twisted into a sculpture’s—numb, stoned, and emotionless.
“Get in ‘ere,” Holt said to his daughter.
I followed.
We walked into the living room, me following like a ghost, scared to alert anyone of my presence. When we got to the fireside, Holt pulled something from his back pocket, chubby fingers wrapped around a white, plastic stick. It took a few moments for me to realize what it was.
A pregnancy test.
The Christmas lights twinkled as Holt advanced on Mandy, his face turning redder as every second passed.
“What’s this?"
He burped, hiccupped, and wiped his nose on the back of his hairy hand.
“I think you know,” Mandy responded, fearless. Well, she seemed fearless.
Then again, Mandy was good at lying, especially to herself.
Embers cracked in the fireplace.
“And,” Mandy added, a hint of a smile on her lips, teasing, poking the dragon, “It’s positive.”
