Christmas Criminal

21. Noelle

21

NOELLE

Wednesday, December 25th

I 'm not entirely sure what I'm doing. Is it odd to invite your dad's second family for Christmas? Absolutely. Does it feel like the right thing to do right now? Kind of.

My mom is apprehensive, and I hate that I'm doing this to her on the holiday, but we've been running in circles for years, trying to stop Christina from getting upset. Trying to get him to show up when he says he will.

And Naomi... as much as I don't want to think we share some of the same genes, she reminds me of me. A little brash, with a healthy dose of skepticism. She looks like a little version of me, and I have a very strong feeling in my gut that I will regret not doing what I can to make things better.

How would my life be different if someone had been there for me when I was in high school? She might not have eczema or get bullied in the same way I did, but she's a human going through the same difficult realization that I did, at the same time I did: that unfortunately just because he's Dad doesn't mean he was ever qualified for the job.

They arrive half an hour later, with wide eyes and hesitant smiles. Naomi leads the charge, thanking my mom directly for having us and immediately clearing the air of any awkwardness by stating their intention–to have a nice Christmas with the family they choose .

I can't help but grin at her a little bit. My mom smiles at this too, shooting me a quick look like she notices the resemblance like I do. When she offers to host us next year, my mom thanks her for the invite and tells her the moms will have to discuss this and get back to her.

Cassidy beelines for Christina, and I can't help but notice the resemblance there, too. She asks how Christina's leg is healing and lets her know they've started thoroughly salting the driveway whenever the forecast calls for snow or ice.

Behind her, Harriet the Harlot walks in–who is definitely not a harlot, but that's the name Christina and I came up with when we were young and angry, and it rolled off the tongue so easily that it stuck . She nods to my mom, and like Naomi, clearing the way of any awkwardness, my mom wraps her in a big hug, thanking her for coming and gesturing to the array of food that's still overkill, even with eight people now in this tiny house.

Nick wraps an arm around my shoulders, pressing a kiss to my cheek and speaking softly against my skin. "I think somebody is feeling the Christmas spirit."

And instead of fighting him on this, I turn to him, brushing my lips across his jaw. "I'd rather feel your Christmas spirit."

He groans. "And I'd love nothing more than to give it to you." He leaves another kiss on my head, holding me close for a second longer than necessary. It feels needy, like maybe he's searching for a little bit of comfort this Christmas too.

I get the feeling that my dad flaking out upset him. He didn't say anything, but I could see his jaw clenching, the subtle shake of his head as the story unfolded through Naomi's texts. He says he's self-conscious about not showing enough emotion, but I can't help but wonder if whoever told him that was just trying to make him feel bad. It's written so clearly across his face and in his body language.

And I can't blame him for being upset by my dad. After what he went through growing up, it probably feels like a slight for someone to have everything he always wanted and not appreciate it in the same way he would.

I mean, he looked like a little kid this morning when the presents were being handed out. Not like he was excited to necessarily get things, but he watched the whole tradition unfold with rapt attention, one hand always on me but his focus on what my mom and my sister were doing. And he grinned when he saw Hank. Something tells me this is the first time Santa's made a cameo at his Christmas.

I smile at him and he looks right back at me, a softness in his eyes that melts me from the inside out.

"Hi, Noelle." I hear the voice behind me and turn to see Naomi waving at me, a small smile on her face that melds into an awkward shrug as she looks away.

"Hi," I say, realizing I invited these girls over and we're just kind of standing around, staring at each other.

So I take a deep breath and a step forward, and wrap my arms around a teenager I only barely know.

When she hugs me back, there's a part of me that warms to her. Like her hug is an indication I've been accepted. A moment later, I reach out and tug her sister into it too. "Thanks for coming," I tell them, giving them one last tight squeeze before letting go.

"If it's okay with you, Cassidy wanted to call... Dad," Naomi says hesitantly, as if she’s unsure whether that’s what she should call him.

I raise my eyebrows. "Sure, whatever you need to do."

Cassidy purses her lips. "Naomi has been calling him all morning and he–"

"He doesn't like me, so he's not answering," Naomi says.

"Naomi," Cassidy scolds.

She shrugs. "What? It's true. But we think if Cassidy calls, he'll answer. Mom has refused to try," Naomi says, glancing over her shoulder and rolling her eyes. Harriet only shrugs, my mom reaching out to squeeze her elbow.

I'm sure my mom had many similar moments, dealing with me at that age.

Cassidy pulls her phone out of her pocket and calls him while we stand in a group around her, watching the phone ring.

And he actually picks up.

"Hey honey," he starts, his words a little drawn out. I can't help but catch Christina's gaze, her eyes narrowed as she listens. "What's up?"

Cassidy is quiet for a moment, and I get the feeling she didn't actually expect him to answer the phone. She looks to Naomi for guidance, and Naomi only widens her eyes, moving her hand in a circle as if to tell her to keep going.

"We were just wondering when you'd be here for Christmas," Cassidy says, shrugging at Naomi.

Naomi gives her a thumbs up.

"Ah, I got held up at Helen's. I'll be home soon, though," he says.

I blink at Christina when I hear the slur in his voice, and mouth, "Is he drunk?"

She shrugs, and I turn to Nick for an answer. He does the same.

Naomi and Cassidy are staring at each other, neither one of them speaking.

So I take a step toward them. "Hey, Dad."

The line is silent for a moment. "Noelle?"

"The girls stopped by to say hello and were surprised to see that you are not, in fact, held up at Helen's."

He grumbles incoherently. "I mean, I'm on my way over."

"From where?" I ask.

"From... my house."

"So after telling Christina you'd be here and then ignoring her texts, and telling Cassidy and Naomi that you'd be there and then flaking out on them, too, you're telling us you've been at home alone all morning. By yourself?"

"Look, I'm doing my best here, kid. Having so many people rely on me isn't exactly an easy thing and I'm doing my best to gather up all of your Christmas presents so I can treat everybody there, okay? So if you'd do me a favor and get off my back, that'd be great."

I rear back. "No one cares about your presents. No one even cares that historically you've proven to us time and time again that we can't rely on you. All any of us wanted was for you to show up. I would love it if you learned how to take accountability for what you've done. You're the reason you have two families to supposedly support–though I'm going to conveniently forget Mom working overtime when we were in high school to pay the bills and something tells me Harriet is in a similar position. But all anyone wanted was for you to show up and participate. In whatever way you're able to." I let out a quick breath, my eyes on Naomi's. "But you chose to drink at home alone on the holiday instead of spending it with the people who care about you despite themselves." I scoff. "And you know what? I'm not even mad. I'm just disappointed."

I swallow, the silence around my words deafening.

And then the line goes dead.

I blink, staring at the phone in Cassidy's hand. Naomi nods as Cassidy slips it back into her pocket, and then takes a step toward me, squeezing my arm in a kind way that feels far beyond her years. "You did good," she tells me.

I kind of want to laugh and cry at the same time. I finally told my Dad what's what, and he had the audacity to just... hang up on me? And an arbitrary judgment from a teenager has my heart swelling with pride?

Who am I?

Nick throws an arm around my shoulders and tugs me into his side, pressing his lips against my head.

My mom steps behind the kitchen island, grabbing a bottle of wine and pulling the cork out. "Who needs wine?" she asks.

Naomi throws her hand in the air, and I grab it and tug it down to her side. "You're twelve," I say.

"I'm literally sixteen," she says.

"Really?"

She turns to me, her eyes scanning me in a way that has me feeling incredibly self-conscious. "What are you, forty-two?"

My mouth pops open as Nick snickers into my hair. Naomi gives us a devilish grin.

I roll my eyes. "Touche, small fry."

My mom and Harriet take two large glasses of wine, and Naomi and Christina go for the cranberry-flavored sparkling water from my mom's fridge. Conversation is stilted at first as we trudge through the awkwardness, but eventually there's mild laughter, though it's not the Christmas jolliness we might expect.

"You did do good, Criminal," Nick murmurs against my ear, pressing a light kiss there.

I let out a long breath. "Apparently it wasn't enough."

"You can't change someone else. All you can do is speak your truth. And you did that. Really well."

I turn to him, pressing my chest against his as he brushes the hair out of my face.

"Even though it fell on deaf ears?" I wrap my arms around his middle and squeeze him. "It's not very rewarding when the other person doesn't listen."

He nods. "And that, Criminal, is why you're a criminal."

I roll my eyes.

"But to be fair, I think your dad is the biggest fucking asshole this town has ever seen and I hope he gets a hell of a lot worse than an egging." He shakes his head. "This is everything ," he says, his voice breaking just a tad over the last word. "This is everything and he's too much of an asshole to appreciate it."

I smile, standing on my toes to kiss his chin. "I'm really happy you're here."

He wraps his arms tight around my neck, squeezing me as tight as he can as his breath runs across my cheek. "I promise, I will never take a moment of this for granted."

I rest my hand on his jaw, my thumb running across the stubble there. "I know."

"And one day–mark my words–your dad will pay for this."

I can't help the laugh that jumps from my throat. "Wow, okay. What are you, mafia?"

He shakes his head, chuckling quietly. "No. I just... I'm so mad at him right now. His daughter told him to just show up and he can't even do that." He sighs. "I just don't get it."

"Because you're a nice person," I say, rubbing my hand along his chest.

He rolls his eyes. "You're giving him the most basic of tasks and he can't even do that."

I shrug. "I'm pretty used to it by now."

"That makes it even worse."

I press another kiss to his cheek. "For what it's worth, your support is really validating." I press my lips together. "And now that I know you, I just want to say fuck whoever told you you don't show emotions enough. Your simmer is everything."

He blinks. "My simmer?"

I nod. "Your mild rage on my behalf. Your subtle storm. I feel really supported."

He lets out a long breath as he tugs me close for another hug.

And then through the din of the chattering around us, someone starts crying.

My first thought is Christina, and my head whips toward the last place I saw her.

But I realize it's Harriet, my mom's arm around her shoulders as she sobs over one of the Christmas cookies I painted a dick onto.

I try not to think too hard about what that means.

Christina moves around the island as fast as she can with her cast weighing her down, and she and my mom flank Harriet, talking in soft voices as she wipes her tears.

I glance over at the couch, where Naomi and Cassidy watch with pained expressions on their faces.

I want to cry with Harriet. Cry for these girls.

But instead I gently extricate myself from Nick's arms, grab the plate of cookies, and head to the couches. Harriet probably needs a good cry, and my mom and sister are more than qualified to help her through it. The girls, however, don't need to spend their Christmas watching it.

I sit in front of the tree and hold the plate of cookies out to them. They each grab one, cocking their heads at the designs.

"Are these supposed to be Christmas ornaments?"

No, it's a ball sack. "Yeah, those little dots are the sparkles."

"Is this a rose?"

I clear my throat. Vagina . "Yeah, it's a rose."

"Hm. I'm surprised you didn't put a poinsettia on it."

"Maybe I'll try that next year."

I grab a handful of presents from my pile and distribute them at the girls' feet as another sob breaks from Harriet's throat. The girls whip toward her, concerned.

"Hey, who wants to open a present first?" I ask.

Naomi eyes me. "They all have your name on them."

I shrug. "I'm pretty sure they're fruit so I don't really care." You can always tell which ones are fruit because my mom always does them last, usually the night before Christmas, and they're haphazardly wrapped, with the occasional drop of wine staining the paper.

Cassidy shrugs, reaching forward and ripping one open to reveal an apple inside.

I gesture to it as if to prove my point. I vaguely register Nick ducking his head into the fridge for a drink behind them.

"Your turn," I say to Naomi, and she grabs one from the pile, ripping it open. An orange.

She cocks her head to the side. "Why do you give each other fruit?"

I shrug. "Because we pretty much buy ourselves everything we want through the year, and half the fun of Christmas is destroying the paper. My sister and I always had a ball ripping it up over Christmas, so I guess that's kind of my mom's present to us. Lots of wrapped things that we can tear into wildly."

Naomi nods. "I feel that."

I raise my eyebrows. Okay .

I hand them each two more presents, and they unwrap them to find a mini tube of toothpaste and another roll of toilet paper.

"Ah, we've entered into the toiletries section of today's festivities."

They giggle, resting their presents on the coffee table in front of them.

"Hope your Christmas isn't shitty," I say, parroting my mom, but the words feel much more relevant now. Naomi dissolves into laughter, leaning back into the couch and crashing into Cassidy, who laughs but not quite as exuberantly.

I only vaguely register the sound of the front door shutting. A car coming to life in the driveway.

I glance around, searching for Nick, and realize he's gone.

My stomach churns as I reach for my phone and text him.

Noelle

Did you leave? Are you okay?

He starts typing back almost immediately.

Saint Nick

All is good. Just have to take care of something real quick. I'll be back soon.

He starts typing again. And then stops. And starts again.

Saint Nick

I can't even tell you how happy I am to be spending Christmas with you and your family. I'll be back as soon as I can.

I let out a long sigh, turning my attention back to the girls, who are thankfully now tearing into the piles at their feet without any prompting. Behind them, Harriet's tears are subsiding as Christina pours her an oversized glass of wine and holds it to her lips like she'd feeding a baby with a bottle.

Another Christmas, another drama-fest.

Christmases in the past haven't been quite this wild, but I'm relieved that for once, it's not Christina crying into her drink.

Naomi and Cassidy bounce off each other, their moods rising as they unwrap one downright hilarious present after another.

I can't help but think back to what Christina said the other day, that my shitty dad and a bad high school experience is what led me to run away, to be angry enough to throw eggs at his house, and ultimately led me to Nick.

I hate thinking about things that way–everything is meant for a reason, blah blah blah –but there's something begrudgingly nice about this. Having two teenagers around to unwrap presents and cackle over the crazy things my mom has decided to give us for the holiday.

I hate everything that led us here. I hate that Harriet is crying and my half-sisters are as angry as I am. I hate that my sister's leg is broken and my mom is tending to a crying woman instead of her new beau.

But this, I don't hate. Sitting in front of the tree with family I didn't really choose, but I did , in some roundabout way.

When all is said and done, I might even admit to appreciating this holiday.

Chaos included.

When Harriet's tears have subsided, the sevenof us gather around the Christmas tree, distributing out presents haphazardly because half of them are now going to people whose names are not the ones scribbled into the wrapping paper.

As my mom lands on one with Nick's name, she glances around, realizing he's gone. She looks at me, brow furrowed. "Where's Nick?"

I swallow. "He said he had to take care of something."

Her eyes narrow. "On Christmas?"

I shrug.

Hank sighs. "Fuck."

My mom glances at him as he scrambles up from the floor, slapping his thighs and grabbing his keys from the hook by the door. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Helen asks.

He shakes his head. "Don't you worry about me. You girls do your best to enjoy the rest of Christmas. I'll be back soon."

Before he can leave, I run after him.

"Hank!" He stops, eyebrows raised as he twirls his keys around one finger. "Do you know where Nick is?"

He nods. "I've got a good idea. Turns out the two of you aren't all that different."

"Are you going to go get him?"

He shrugs. "Something like that."

"Okay, I'll come with you."

He shakes his head, resolute. "No. Noelle, you go spend Christmas with your family." He points behind me into the living room, where my mom and Harriet hesitantly laugh at something Naomi said. "I promise, we'll both be back soon."

"You think he’s okay?"

Hank nods. "My guess is he's just fine."

He puts his hands on my shoulders and shoves me gently back toward the rest of the women. "Go, Noelle. We'll be back soon."

"Okay."