My family problems didn't get any better at Christmas a month later. I don't know why I thought they might. I never learn.
But I wanted the family relationships so bad that I pushed all of my anger and hurt feelings aside and reached out to my dad after Thanksgiving. Even though he hurt me, I acted like everything was fine and invited him to my house for Christmas. And my step mom and step siblings. I didn't invite my mom because I knew my dad's side of the family would never come if she was there. They couldn't even suck it up for one evening for my sake. But it had always been that way.
Anyway, I went all out. I decorated my whole house, I got presents for everyone and set them under the tree, and I made dinner and cookies. I invited Mark, too. And he was actually going to miss his family's Christmas in Ohio to be with me for mine.
I was waiting by myself for Mark and my family to arrive when I got a text from my dad. Not even a phone call. He told me that my step mom wanted to have Christmas at their house instead and that they wouldn't be coming to my house. He didn't even invite me to join them.
I threw my phone down on the couch and felt my face getting hot. I was fucking pissed. I was so sick of being treated like this from my family. And even worse, being the only one who constantly kept trying to salvage a relationship even though I was the one that got shit on over and over again. It should have been the other way around. But no one even cared.
Not wanting to ruin dinner plans, I picked my phone back up and called my mom on the brink of tears. She answered after several rings and as soon as she picked up, I knew she was wasted. She was slurring super badly and couldn't comprehend anything I was saying.
About to cry, I just hung up. And as she usually does when she's drunk, she kept trying to call me back repeatedly. Then she started alternating between calling and texting, cursing me out for not picking up the phone. Well, as best she could type in her condition, which was barely readable.
I sat alone in the quiet of my house, looking at the decorations, presents under the tree and all of the food I spent the entire day making. I knew I was going to start crying, so I jumped off of my couch, grabbed my jacket and went outside. I didn't even take my phone or lock the door.
I just started walking. I wasn't going anywhere in particular. I just felt so upset and overwhelmed that I had to get out of there. I wanted to calm myself down and get my mind off of it. I couldn't stop crying. I didn't even think about the fact that Mark was still on his way over and I didn't have my phone.
I have no idea how long I was walking or how far I had gone. I was so upset, I barely even noticed the car slowing down next to me. But when it screeched to a stop in the street and the driver's side door opened, I looked to see that it was Mark getting out and running around the front of his car towards me.
"Eliza, what's wrong? What are you doing out here?" He stood in front of me and put his hands on my shoulders. He looked so worried.
I was still crying and didn't know what to say. He kept ducking his head down to try to meet my eyes, but I kept trying to avoid eye contact. I hated people seeing me cry.
"I went to your house and knocked forever. No one answered, and the door was unlocked. I saw your phone and keys sitting on the coffee table. I just got in the car and drove looking for you. I didn't know what happened. The food was still hot and everything."
"I'm sorry," I managed to say as I wiped at my eyes, wishing the tears would just stop already.
When he finally got me to meet his eyes, he took one look at me and said, "It's your family, isn't it? They ditched you."
This made me cry more. Cars were driving down the road and all honking and yelling at us because they had to go over into the other lane to get around Mark's car and his still open driver's side door. He didn't care. He rested his forehead against mine and put his hands on my face and just let me cry while trying to calm me down with soft "shh's".
My hair was a mess, sticking to my face from the tears and the makeup running. I kept trying to push it out of my face, but the wind was pretty strong that night. Mark took a rubber band from around his wrist and put my hair up in a ponytail for me.
And then he kissed me. I was surprised at first. I definitely hadn't expected that since tears and makeup were covering my face and snot was probably dripping down my nose. I was a mess.
But it was exactly what I needed. He was here for me. He cared about me. He wanted to make me feel better. He still kissed me like I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, even in my condition. As we stood there kissing, with me still crying, I decided. This was it.
I pulled away just barely and kept my eyes closed and my nose pressed up against his. And I said, "Take me home."
I could feel him staring at me and I opened my eyes and took a half step back to meet his gaze. I told him with my eyes what I meant by taking me home. His eyes went back and fourth, searching mine and making sure he understood.
"Are you sure?" He had never sounded so serious.
I had never been more sure about anything. I nodded and he leaned forward to kiss me on the forehead and then helped me over to his car and got me inside the passenger side. He drove us back to my house. Neither of us said a word. I just took his hand and led him into the house and up into my room. Then I turned around to face him.
We just looked at each other as I took ahold of the bottom of my shirt and pulled it off over my head. He didn't move, just stared at me. I reached behind my back and undid the class of my bra and let it fall off of me and to the floor. I looked up at him and he took it as his cue to start.
He stepped closer to me, put his hands on my bare back and pulled me up against him. He kissed me and guided me backwards towards my bed at the same time. Suddenly I was laying on my back and he was on top of me, kissing my neck.
I grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off of him. Our bare chests were pressed together now and we both worked to get our pants off next. It was frantic and rushed and yet still calm and perfect at the same time.
We had a mutual understanding that we were going to skip any foreplay. We had been doing enough of that in the past months. This is me giving myself completely to him.
Once we were both completely naked, he stopped kissing me and looked me in the eyes. He looked serious but also like he might be on the verge of a smile. I returned the same look and leaned up a little to give him a quick peck on the lips.
"Are you ready?" He asked.
