You Are Something Else, Juniper Zwinggi

Chapter 16

When Pat and I were eight, mom told us there was no such thing as Santa Claus. If dad had been there she never would have said such a thing but he was in China so Lynn could be home with Dave and Jake for the holidays. Dad loved Christmas, he would get so excited about decorating the house and the trees. He loved watching us open our presents on Christmas Day.

Mom was angry at him and to get out of putting the presents under the tree on Christmas Eve night she put our presents in our laps Christmas Day and said Santa wasn't real and that we needed to grow up. It crushed us so much we cried when we opened our presents. When dad found out, he was so angry at her that they didn't speak for weeks. Christmases never were the same after that.

Celebrating with the Fisher family was foreign to me but refreshing at the same time. They had extended family and friends come over on Christmas Eve. Everyone was happy, laughing, and enjoying themselves. Jake stuck to me like glue the whole time causing people to wonder how long we'd been together, whose daughter I was, stuff like that. My mom wasn't particularly popular in our social circles but everyone loved my dad, so I just told them I was the late Gerald Zwinggi's daughter. 

"I am so sorry to hear about your brother, Juniper. I didn't even know until I ran into your mother at a cocktail party. I asked her how you and Patrick were and she said that he had passed away," Jake's Great Aunt Cheryl who lived in Dallas had come to California for the winter and drove all the way from L.A. to be at this party. She was almost ninety-years-old but still got around like a teenager.

I was shocked my mom even mentioned us to anyone and I immediately felt the sting of tears in my eyes and nose.

"It hit her pretty hard so she doesn't speak about it very much," I said with a stiff smile. Jake ran his hand up and down my spine and it calmed me.

"It doesn't serve his memory well if all you remember is the sad. You remember him like he was when he was alive and that's how you get through it," she pat my scarred cheek like I was a little girl.

"Thank you," I said sniffing.

"Well, I better grab another sausage ball before they're all gone," she said and walked away.

Jake kissed the top of my head and we hung out by the fireplace for a while. Every once in a while I'd hear Luka howl from the other side of the house. He hated being away from me and by himself. He had a low and mournful howl that was the saddest sound you could ever hear. When the last of the guests left at eleven, he almost knocked me down when I let him out of my bedroom.

"When did you stop believing in Santa?" I asked Jake as he stood beside me on the back porch watching Luka run around under the moon.

"Uh, probably around age ten. I woke up too soon and found them assembling my remote controlled helicopter. They felt really bad for ruining it for me. Why? When did you stop believing?" he asked and I told him the story about my mom spoiling it for us. Shaking his head he ran his fingers through his hair, "I'm sorry sweetheart, but your mom is a piece of work."

I scoffed, totally agreeing with him. "I know. I've spent eighteen and a half years trying to figure her out and she still baffles me. I don't think she ever realized how cruel she could be. She wanted us to grow up so badly she never thought twice about how we felt about the things she did or said. I love her but I feel like it's more out of obligation than genuine love a daughter should have for her mom. Sometimes I see her in me."

Jake sighed and stood behind me, wrapping his arms around me. "You are not your mom. Do you understand?"

I nodded and leaned into him, feeling his warmth. He pressed his lips to my temple and we listened to Luka bark at something in the trees.