Havoc for the Holidays (Home for the Holidays)

15. Ollie

Chapter fifteen

Ollie

W ith only three days until my parents were scheduled to arrive, four days until the showcase, and everything that came along with Becs’ last week of school, my stress levels were through the roof. It took every single brain cell I possessed to keep track of everything, including the sheer chaos that was Spirit Week. Honestly, my daughter was pulling double duty as my secretary to stay on top of which day was which. To my absolute horror, today was Grinch Day. Her curls were wild on a good day. Trying to tame them into a Cindy Lou style at her insistence necessitated half a bottle of hairspray, three YouTube tutorials, and patience I didn't know I possessed.

Naturally, we missed the bus, which meant I was desperately racing to get her into the car fast enough to avoid her being late. Once I had the car on the road, she reminded me of something else I had forgotten.

“Daddy, the class party is later. Are you still going to bring cupcakes?”

I groaned and tightened my grip on the steering wheel. I didn't dare respond until after I had taken three deep breaths. “Yes. What time does it start, darling?”

“One! We're gonna sing a song and everything.” Her wide-eyed excitement only barely tempered my flustered state.

“I'll be there. I can't wait to hear your song.” I mentally calculated how much time I had as I flicked on my blinker and pulled into the school parking lot. These occasions were my least favorite. I was still in my pajamas. Nothing screamed “hot mess parent” quite like hurrying my child into the school wearing flannel bottoms with a rat’s nest of uncombed hair atop my head. Being the youngest parent of her class by a large margin was already a huge issue for me. Calling even more attention to it was the last thing I needed right now.

We exchanged kisses and hugs in the front entrance of the school before she was on her way to another exciting day of kindergarten. I couldn't help but linger too long as I watched her Cindy Lou hair and overly large backpack bounce away down the cavernous hall. She was so little and yet had grown too fast already. Parenthood was strange like that. With a wistful sigh, I turned to leave and nearly bumped into one of the other parents from her class.

“Oop! Hello, Ollie.”

“Oh! I'm so sorry.” I stepped back and exhaled a nervous laugh. “Happy holidays.”

“Are you excited for your stage debut?” The mother of my daughter’s classmate scrunched her eyes with a smirk. “I've heard it's going to be quite a big show.”

My cheeks instantly flamed at her not-so-subtle comment. “Uh… sure. Pardon me… I have errands to run.”

“See you later, Ollie.”

“Oh, right. Later!” I couldn't escape fast enough. The absolute last thing I wanted was to suffer through a conversation wherein a fellow parent commented on the size of my dick in dance tights while standing in the hallway of the school. I shuddered as I raced to my car. Some people had no shame whatsoever. I was filled with it constantly. I guess that was the law of checks and balances.

Since I was already out and about, I detoured to the local grocery store to get the cake mix and icing I had forgotten I needed for the party I failed to remember. Thankfully, there were only a few cars in the parking lot. With any luck, I could be in and out without any fuss or unnecessary conversation.

Efficiency was the name of the game as soon as I entered the automatic doors. Townsend and Sons Mercantile was far smaller than any chain grocery store, but they somehow managed to stock just about anything anyone could ever need. I'd been coming here my entire life, and had spent most of my teen years working as a stock clerk, so I knew my way around like the back of my hand.

I grabbed a box of cake mix and a tub of icing from the shelf and bee-lined it to the back of the store. Discovering my best friend hard at work doing inventory of the dairy section was a pleasant surprise. If I had to run into anyone, I would have preferred it be him.

“Morning, Linc.” I slid in beside him and grabbed a carton of eggs from the stack. “Sorry to mess up your numbers.”

“Olls! Good to see you.” He lowered his clipboard with a genuine smile that eased my lingering anxiety. “How are you?”

“Busy. Too busy.” I blew an errant curl from my eyes and shrugged. “How're you?”

“Doing well. Excited for the show?”

I immediately scrunched my nose.

“Don't be like that. You’ll do fine.”

“Maybe. Probably not.”

“Olls…” He turned toward me with a stern expression. “It's all for fun. Don't be so serious all the time. Get up there, dance around with your girl and your man, and laugh it off.”

I darted my gaze away as I nibbled at my lower lip. The fact that I had yet to return Ezechiel’s calls for the last two days was something I wasn't ready to admit to. I was a coward of the highest order and the guilt crept up my throat until I was forced to clear it with a cough.

“I don't know. It's… overwhelming. All of it.”

He knew more than he was letting on judging by his narrowing eyes and clenching jaw. “Hmn.”

“What?”

“Don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Don't do exactly what I know you're doing.” He reached out and tapped my nose with the end of his pen. “I'll be disappointed.”

I puffed my cheeks out with a breath before expelling it through pursed lips. “Story of my life.”

“Olls, hey—”

“I've got to get home. I'll see you later, Linc.” I turned away before I could see the actual disappointment on his face.

“Ollie, I didn't mean—”

“I know.” I glanced over my shoulder while retreating. “I'll see you later on.”

He deflated with a grim expression and nodded before lifting his hand in a wave. I returned the gesture and fled into the nearest aisle to avoid any more of the uncomfortable exchange.

There was only one register open, so I set my products down and exchanged a small smile with the cashier. I recognized her from when I was in high school. To be honest, it was strange to realize that I was only a couple years older than the recent graduate on the other side of the counter. Sometimes I felt twice my age.

“Hey, Ollie.” She quickly slid all three items over the scanner.

“Morning, Marcy.”

“That'll be eleven eighty-eight.”

I fumbled my wallet from my coat pocket and reluctantly pulled my EBT card from inside. I hated using the card despite how much it helped. I knew there wasn't inherently any shame in needing financial assistance, but that didn't make it any easier to not feel ashamed. I slid it through the reader and avoided eye contact.

“Sorry… you might have to try it again.” The cashier slid a slip of receipt paper over the counter. According to the printout, I had nine dollars and change left. I mumbled an apology and dug through my wallet again. There was no way I was splitting the balance between two cards, so I pulled out my last twenty and handed it over. Of course, I was blushing the entire time.

“Happy holidays, Ollie.” She smiled and held out my change. It took all my courage to make eye contact and return the well wishes before I grabbed my things and tried not to bolt for the door. The fact that I was proud of myself for departing at a calm pace was a pretty good indication of where my mood was at.

The sidewalk outside the store was surprisingly busy as I exited, forcing me to sidestep and apologize. My nerves instantly skyrocketed. It was the PTA moms. I tried to avoid them at all costs. They tried to recruit me to their organization just as intently. The fact that they were all closer to my mother’s age than mine had always left me feeling intensely uncomfortable. Hell, one of them had a child who was in my graduating class. Talk about awkward.

“Good morning, Oliver!”

“Morning, Ollie!”

“Oh, Ol! Will we see you at the party later?”

“Um, hello. Hi. Yes.” I reluctantly stopped so as not to be rude.

“I'm looking forward to the showcase.”

“Missy told me you're quite…commanding on stage.”

“And Ezechiel… woooo, you're a lucky man. He's so attractive! I'm jealous, Oliver.”

“Oh. Right.” I darted my eyes toward my car as my respiratory rate increased beyond a comfortable level. “Um. Happy holidays? I have to… I have to go.”

“Aww! Be well, Ollie.”

“We’ll see you soon.”

“Merry Christmas!”

This time, there was no calm and collected departure. In true cowardly fashion, I took off at a jog that became a full-tilt until I was able to throw myself into the driver's seat and dump my items beside me. I could barely breathe. My hands shook like the last of the leaves clinging to the trees in a stiff winter wind. It was all entirely too much and something, anything, had to give. Like the coward I was deep down inside, I did the only conceivable thing—I pulled out my cell phone and sent a cowardly text to the poor man I had been ignoring for days.

Ollie: Hi. I'm sorry. I can't dance in the showcase. Please don't hate me.

Despite the fact that tears blurred my vision, I made it home unscathed and quickly retreated to the sanctuary of my small apartment. I ignored the repeated buzzing of my phone on the counter as I made the saddest Christmas cupcakes of my life. Even the red and green sprinkles did little to lift my spirits. Happy holidays, indeed. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that I'd ruined the most wonderful time of the year. It was the story of my life, after all.