Page 104 of Don't Be in Love

“Something like that,” she repeated.

“What do you usually do on Christmas?”

She blotted her red lipstick with a napkin before taking a sip from the mug, swallowing. “Nothing too different from most days. The only exception is I go to midnight mass the night before and the cookies I make are green and red. If it’s not too cold, sometimes Kurt and I will go down the street and sit in the park and await the snowfall. Watch families gather in doorways with gifts and casseroles. Children forced into matching garbs with pouts on their faces.”

She looked down at the table, a sad smile on her face before clearing her throat. “A little too cold for that today though. Kurt and I will stick to the couch.”

“I’m around all day. I wouldn’t mind some company, especially since I’ve been watching the same Christmas movie on repeat for the past four weeks.”

“Which movie?” she asked, lifting her mug to her lips.

“The Holiday.”

She smiled. “The scene where he shows up drunk and she grabs his tie—the best.”

“Yes!”

“Kurt and I watch it every year. Isn’t that right?” she asked affectionately, leaning over to him on the floor to scratch his back. He purred in protest when she pulled away, leaning back to—

“Kurt,no,” Maureen tsked as the cat jumped onto the table and sent the pile of mail across the floor, paper hitting the ground in a perpendicular fashion.

“It’s alright,” I assured, kneeling down to collect each envelope one-by-one, tossing it back onto the table as Kurt ran from the kitchen.

“You may dislike your family, but it doesn’t seem like they dislike you,” Maureen commented.

“Excuse me?”

Without answering, she handed me a white envelope under the table. Addressed to me. From ‘Auntie Laila Adorno.’

I slumped on the floor. My mouth dried up. The moisture on my tongue fled and redirected to my eyes. My throat swelled with emotion.

She responded. She actually responded. I was angry at her for not responding, and she had.

Relief rolled off me as I slipped my thumb under the envelope and tugged. Inside was a card filled with her handwriting.

Dear Adelaide,

I’m so happy to hear from you. It’s been so long. Thank you for the birthday wishes. Massachusetts misses you. And so do I. I talk about you all the time, especially to Benedict. He’s my fiancé—we started dating two years and just got engaged last month. He knows all about how smart and driven you are. Ieven showed him all of the Beverly mood boards you made in high school that hang on your bedroom walls. I’m so happy they’re hiring; it sounds meant to be.

I’d of course answer any questions you have. Why don’t you give me a call when you get this?

P.S. I loved London. There’s nothing better than the view of Big Ben at night. (Just stay away from the telephone booths—they’re riddled with germs.)

Hopefully I can come visit you soon, if you’d like that.

—Auntie

I exhaled.

She had a fiancé now. She told him about me. She missed me.

Massachusetts misses you. And so do I.

The part of my brain dedicated to family memories and nostalgia locked up like a vault respired just a bit, dense air releasing.

She responded. She wanted to visit.

A wet saltiness hit my lip.