See You on the Other Side | ✓

14 | I Don't Want Jack for Christmas

"Never time to have my mind made up. Caught in emotion and I don't wanna stop." - The Whitest Boy Alive, Burning

A/n: Yes, that is the band's real name lol.

~~~

"I'm sorry," I said as I stared at the ripped pieces sitting on the table. "I'll clean it up."

"It's fine." She picked up the fragments and tossed them in the trash. "I have more pictures to look at."

"But that was one-of-a-kind."

Her hand caressed my shoulder and back. "It's fine, Adrian."

"Maybe I should just go upstairs," I muttered in a low voice. I rose from my seat before I felt my grandma clutch my arm to sit me back down.

"No, stay. This isn't your fault."

"Yes, it is."

"There are other pictures of them that I have."

"But that was a moment in time. You can't have that back."

Her hands covered mine as they lay flat on the table. "Those moments are gone, but the best ones aren't in pictures. The pictures lie to you, but memories are always true."

I recalled what I saw before I ripped the photograph up. On my dad's smug pale face was the paradox of his grin. My mom carried the same contradiction with her puffy brown eyes and a toothy smile.

Sometimes life gave hints ten years late.

~~~

I heard my name being called and rushed down the steps. It was about 10 PM, which meant my grandma would be going to sleep soon. With her tea steeping in a mug, she sat at the table watching old episodes of Cheers.

"Come, sit," she ordered, patting the seat to the left of her.

"It's kinda late, I might turn in."

"You know you're not gonna do that. You're a night owl."

"Ok, then what did you call me down here for?" I inquired since she obviously wasn't going to tell it unprovoked.

"I forgot I needed to talk to you about Christmas. There's been a little break in tradition." Her fingers tapped on the ceramic impatiently.

"We're eating ham instead of turkey?"

"Well, I don't know about that one, but I'm talking about Jack. He's invited us to his house for Christmas."

"Pity party," I spat with my voice low, but still sharp nonetheless.

"Why do you have to be so pessimistic?"

"I'm a realist, big difference."

"I'm not asking for a lot here, Adrian. All I'm asking is for you to get over your realism for three lousy days." Her tone grew increasingly upset with me as she concluded the sentence.

"I could barely be with them for not even an hour. How am I supposed to go through this for three days?"

"You have about two weeks to prepare for that, but it's about time we get in touch with the family now that the feud is over."

"Half of the feud is underground!" I exclaimed. This time, I held no restraint in my volume and I was fully aware of how hurtful I was about to get. "Do you think grandpa would like us talking to him?"

"Like you give a damn about him. I don't know if you remember but I was there when you made that horrid eulogy."

"It wasn't horrid, it was honest. Most didn't look at him positively during his life anyway. It wasn't like I was making some revelation."

"Your grandpa's funeral was one of the last times he was and will be thought about by most of his family. The eulogies acted as the closing remarks to your grandpa's life. Your closing remarks were bitter as if he didn't even watch over you for ten years."

"Did I lie though?"

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Once she rested, she sat as if shards of glass were in her back. She cleared her throat, preparing to swallow the one thing this family seemed to be struggling with letting go of. "You didn't lie about him when you said he wasn't much of a father figure for you, but he was trying. You have to give him credit for that."

"His definition of trying must've been not murdering you," I half-joked. A slight chuckle escaped from my lips before I repressed another one. My grandma had that all-seeing eye going on.

"I wanted him to be closer to you, I really did. I talked to him many times about it. It was just difficult."

"It's difficult to ask, 'how are you feeling?' If he even went to one of my 3rd-grade soccer games, maybe I would still be playing soccer."

"You stopped playing because you said that the coach made you uncomfortable."

"He was actually pretty ni- I mean yeah."

"Anyway, we are going to be at Jack's place for Christmas. No ifs, ands, or buts," she reiterated.

I never really liked Christmas Day and it was clear that it was going to stay that way. Unless my gift under the tree wasn't a gift at all, but a miracle.

A/N

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