A Curvy Carol (A Curvy Girl Christmas #2)

3. Carolynn

3

CAROLYNN

B y the time I got to Scrooge’s Diner, Mom and Dad were already there waiting for me. Even though they were at the same booth, they sat as far apart from each other as possible.

I could tell from the second I walked in that they were having one of their quiet but relentless arguments with one another. I knew for a fact they thought I didn’t see them, but I did, no matter how quickly they straightened up and pasted on fake smiles.

“Carolynn, honey, there you are,” Mom said.

I glanced back and forth between them, wondering which side to sit on. Talk about a metaphor for my life the past few years.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” Dad asked, scooting over and making room for me. “Something on your mind?”

Mom made room for me in the booth too, and I caught the lightning quick glare she shot at Dad.

With a sigh, I pulled a chair over from a nearby table and sat down so I was between them.

Now Dad shot Mom an accusatory look.

“I called this family meeting here today because I can’t take it anymore,” I said. “And I meant it when I said I’m not celebrating Christmas with either of you this year.”

At that exact moment, Scrooge arrived at our table, notepad in hand. I was pretty sure he’d had the same one for about a decade from the looks of it. He gave us a more awkward look than usual, seeming deeply uncomfortable at the conversation he’d walked into. “What can I get ya to drink?” he asked, avoiding eye contact.

“Orange soda for me,” I said.

Mom and Dad each ordered a water. “With a slice of lemon, please,” Mom added, giving her best smile that said we were a perfectly normal family, even if she and Dad happened to be divorced.

Scrooge left, and I turned back to my parents.

“Honey, your father and I have been talking about it, and we can change some things so the holidays are easier—”

“No,” I replied, with a shake of my head. “I love you both, but every year, Christmas is more and more stressful, and I’m not doing it anymore. I need a break.” My voice got louder with every word I spoke, emotion filling my words.

They sat there, taken aback. I never went against anything they said, much less raised my voice at them, but I couldn’t help it. I needed them to really hear me this time.

Besides, I wasn’t saying it with anger. It was more like a desperate plea. And a line drawn in the sand.

I went on, taking advantage of their stunned silence. “Every year feels like a competition. Who will plan more activities? Who will create more memories, take more photos?”

Mom’s mouth fell open. Dad looked like I’d just announced I was moving away to the moon.

Scrooge came over with our drinks, placed them on the table, and scampered off.

“I just want Christmas to be peaceful this year,” I finished. “We can revisit it next year.”

Mom gathered her senses first. I could see tears brimming in her eyes already, and I steeled myself for her response. “Honey, you’re not thinking straight. Maybe school has been hard lately. You’re not getting out of the house enough. But you know what? Christmas is a time for family, for us to be together.” She took my hand. “Even if we are divorced, you know we try to make it special for you. We want to make sure you get time with both of us.”

Dad cast his gaze down. I didn’t know if that meant he agreed or didn’t want to voice his opinion.

Since he wasn’t speaking, I did my best to keep my composure. “I know, Mom, but that’s the problem. I don’t want you guys trying so hard to make Christmas perfect every year. It just ends up making it impossible to enjoy the holidays at all.”

Mom glanced at Dad like she wanted him to argue with me more, but he said, “We can’t make you do something you don’t want to do.”

Mom turned to him, and I could tell she was wondering why he wasn’t on her side and presenting a united front.

“I just want one year where I do what’s important to me,” I added, hoping they’d understand where I was coming from at least a little.

“And what’s important to you?” Mom asked. “What do you want to do that’s so different than how we try to make Christmas special?”

I sighed. “I just want to stay home sometimes. Not do every single thing, all the time. I want to cross-stitch. Maybe read and watch movies. And not just cheesy Christmas movies either.”

Dad studied me, and I could tell he was really thinking about what I was saying, even if Mom didn’t look convinced at all.

“Okay,” Dad said.

“Okay?” Mom and I said at the same time. My voice was laced with hope while hers definitely had a tone of surprise. And not the good kind of surprise.

“On one condition,” he said. He turned to Mom. “If you agree,” he added. Smart of him , I thought.

“I was talking to my boss the other day. As you know, they’re new in town. They have a son who’s your age who could really use some company this holiday season. He doesn’t know anyone, and he seems like a nice kid. What if, instead of spending every minute with us this season, you show him what a true Garland Christmas is all about?”

He turned to Mom, and I could tell she was really considering the idea too.

“But, Dad,” I whined. “I said I want to do what’s important to me this year for a change. Not show someone around and take them on sleigh rides and stuff.” I didn’t like babysitting all that much—especially not some boy my age. Guys at school weren’t exactly friendly to me, if they acknowledged me at all.

“Maybe your father’s right,” Mom said. “I think this could be good for you.”

“I just want to stay home and work on my cross-stitch projects,” I pleaded.

“Well, it’s this or our usual Christmas family plans,” Dad said. “Besides, I know this kid could really use a friend right now.”

I thought about it, really dreading the whole idea. But it had to be better than our crazy family Christmas marathon. And who knew? Maybe this kid, whoever he was, didn’t really want to do this either. We could pretend to meet up and go our separate ways.

In that case, it had to be a win-win, right?

“Fine,” I replied, taking a sip of my orange soda. “It’s a deal. But no crazy family photos this year.”

Now they looked at each other.

“Just one?” Mom asked.

I heaved a sigh. “One.”

“Deal,” Mom said with a small smile.

Scrooge came back, presumably to take our order.

“At least there are some good AI options these days,” Mom muttered to herself.