Merry Ex-Mas (6 page)

But this
…
Kendall's sorrow was palpable. I asked her again, "Tell me what's going on. Why do you have to be there?"

"Because I have to," she sniffed. "Because
…
my dad
…
he's dying."

Those words stopped me cold. And even Asia, who had been sipping on another martini, had to put her glass down.

I asked, "What?"

Before Kendall could answer, Asia piped in with her own questions. "Dying? What's wrong with him? How does he know?" She didn't give Kendall a chance to respond before Asia added, "I don't think he's dying. I think he just said that to get you to finally have Christmas dinner with them."

Asia spoke with confidence, as if her words were the truth. But I knew her well enough to hear that little shaking right beneath her words. And I was pretty sure that Kendall could hear it, too.

"Kendall, are you sure?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yes." Her voice was a bit stronger now. "My dad is dying. He has breast cancer."

Together, Asia and I shrieked, and then Asia said, "That's impossible; men don't get breast cancer."

"Not that many, not that often, but my dad has always
…
done things a little differently," she wept.

This time, I didn't try to quiet my friend. All I did was hold her, rock her, and cry with her. And Asia cried, too, though her tears didn't stop her from raising her hand to call for the waiter.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the young man rushing to our booth. "Is everything all right here?" His eyes moved from Asia to me to Kendall.

We had to look like a hot mess, the three of us sitting on one side of the table, squished together, crying together. But I didn't care, I didn't move. I just kept my arms around Kendall and rocked.

The waiter asked, "Is there anything I can get you?" I didn't miss the way he glanced over his shoulder, looking like what he wanted to get was security.

"Yeah," Asia said with tears dripping down her face. "You can get us another round of everything."

Kendall and I hadn't even finished our first drinks, but I didn't bother to point that out. As the waiter rushed away, from the other side, Asia wrapped her arms around Kendall, too.

And with just two days left before Christmas, the three of us sat there and cried together.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, half expecting the image to speak back to me saying, "What in the world?"

But instead, I did the talking. "I can do this." And then I repeated those words over and over, praying that repetition would be good for my soul.

Days had gone by since I'd agreed to this, but still, I was feeling some kind of way. It was true that I'd shared some wonderful holidays with Quentin in the past, but I'd long ago forgotten what that was like, and I didn't want to be reminded.

I'd been happy with my non-relationship with Quentin. Of course, we had to speak occasionally because of the children. But now that both Christopher and Tori were grown, we hadn't had too many shared occasions in recent years. And whenever we did have to breathe the same air, with the exception of graduations, it had never been for more than fifteen minutes or so.

Today though, we'd have to share the same space; he'd be in my house for more than a few minutes, and that was the part that I couldn't get over.

I needed to change my focus, I needed to see this for what it was
—
just one simple day, one simple dinner; that's what I had to keep telling myself.

The problem was I couldn't get myself to believe that. There was nothing simple about Dr. Quentin Hart. Everything about him was always so extra. He couldn't live life the way normal people did
—
and the way he'd ended our marriage proved this.

Maybe what bothered me was that this wasn't just Christmas. This was the anniversary of our breakup. It was around this time of year, ten days after Christmas to be exact. New Year's 2004.

I moved away from the mirror, sat down on the bed, and remembered it all.

"Sheridan, I've fallen in love with someone else," Quentin had said to me the moment Christopher and Tori left for their first day back to school after the Christmas break.

At first, I'd just stood there, and then my eyes glanced at the TV on the kitchen counter because surely my devoted husband hadn't spoken those words.

But the words had come from Quentin, and my worst fear had come true: My gynecologist-husband had bonded and fallen in love with a patient during one of those intimate Pap smears!

When I realized what was happening, my first instinct was to kill Quentin, then hunt down this other woman and make her wish that she'd chosen another doctor.

But then, Quentin had clarified. "It's not another woman
…
I'm in love, but not with a woman. I'm in love with a man. I've fallen in love with Jett Jennings."

That was when the rumbling began. The rumbling that rose up through the soles of my feet and made its way up to my fists. I can't really explain what happened next, but it had something to do with my fist making a connection in a kick-boxing, upper-cut move that I'd just learned
—
and Quentin ended up on the floor.

I have no idea how long he was out. I didn't stay to help him. I just stepped right over him and went up to my bedroom.

Of course, I kicked him out of our house that night. Of course, it was all so painful for me. There were so many questions, especially the one regarding what my role was in all of this.

But you know what? I had not only survived; I'd thrived.

So now that I'd made it through all of that, now that I'd been delivered from Quentin, now that I had united with the man of any woman's dreams, Quentin was going to have a starring role in our own rendition of Guess Who's Coming to Dinner.

It was just too ridiculous to me.

But I had to find a way, so I started my mantra again. "I can do this," I kept whispering.

"Yes, you can."

I looked up, and there was my husband, leaning against the doorjamb, with his arms crossed and one leg in front of the other. He'd been there awhile, I could tell. And since he'd been staring at me, I decided to spend a few moments taking in the wonder of this man that I had the privilege to call my husband.

Looking at him now brought back some great memories. Like the first time I had the pleasure of laying my eyes on him. And I smiled as I thought about what had captured my attention. It was his uniform. Or rather, his body in his uniform. The UPS uniform that didn't make me have to use my imagination to see the roundness of his biceps or the tightness of his abs. I'd even taken a peek at his butt that day, even though I met him while he was walking down the aisle in the sanctuary delivering a package to the church.

I knew I needed to repent then
—
at the very least, throw myself across the altar. But thank God, I didn't have to repent now for the thoughts that were going through my head.

"What's wrong?" he asked, as he strode toward me.

"Absolutely nothing," I said, looking him up and down. "Positively nothing."

"Well, something's wrong," he said, taking my hand.

Clearly, he didn't know what I'd been thinking.

He said, "You've been sitting on this bed, just staring into space."

Seeing him had made me forget. But now, I remembered. Quentin!

"So, do you want to tell me what this anxiety is all about? Why don't you want Quentin here?"

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head. "I guess I don't like the idea of him walking in on our wonderful life; I don't want to share our holiday, our good times, with him."

"It's not like he's moving in, baby. He'll just be here for a couple of hours. Right after dinner, we can throw him out. We don't have to even let him stay for dessert."

He laughed, but I didn't because I was thinking that might be a good idea. I took an extra moment, really considering that proposition. Then, "That won't work," I said. "We're trying to make a good impression on Evon, remember?"

"Darn," Brock joked. "But seriously, I hope this isn't about any concerns you have about me. I like the fact that Quentin will be here."

That's what Brock had been saying ever since Christopher asked me to do this. "Why?" I asked him. "Why do you like it so much? Why did you agree to this?"

"Because you two share children, and one day, you'll share grandchildren. He has to be a part of our tradition."

I did it gently, but I pulled my hands away from him and crossed my arms. "I don't like it."

He chuckled a bit as the tips of his fingers grazed my bare arms, and I knew he'd done that on purpose. He knew that he made me shiver and quiver every time he touched me.

Brock knelt down in front of me and made me unfold my arms. "It's gonna be all right. I promise," he said.

"I remember a time when you didn't like Quentin."

"That's not true. I've never disliked him. I just wanted to make sure that he no longer had your heart." He paused. "Once you gave your heart to me, I've been cool with him ever since."

I twisted my lips. "I don't know if I'd be so gracious with any of your exes."

"There's a difference between an ex-spouse and an ex-girlfriend. This is about family, and we're always gonna be about that."

How could I be mad at that? I cupped the side of his face with the palm of my hand. "When I grow up, I wanna be like you."

We laughed together because that was our little joke. I had some years on Brock
—
almost nine. But while I had those years over him chronologically, he had decades over me emotionally.

The doorbell interrupted our little time together. Pushing himself up, he reached for my hand. "Come on," he said. "Let's go greet our guests. Let's embrace our new traditions."

When I stood, I sighed and hugged him. Then I wrapped my arm around his waist and together, we walked out of our bedroom.

"I'll get it!" Tori bellowed before she blew through the upstairs hallway and down the stairs. Brock and I had to jump back to avoid the aftermath of what felt like a hurricane as she ripped by us, right as we stepped from our bedroom.

I watched my daughter and laughed. Being nineteen and a junior in college didn't stop Tori from acting like she was still thirteen. She was still the first one to answer a ringing telephone or a knock at the door.

"Christopher!" Tori yelped the moment she opened the door. She jumped into his arms.

The two shopping bags he held dropped from his hands as he gripped the doorway to balance himself against the force of his sister. "Yo, squirt. Give me a moment to get inside, will ya?"

"I can't help it," she said. "I've missed my big brother!" Then she planted rapid-fire kisses on his neck and cheek, making all of us laugh. It was a kiss attack. But after too many seconds of making him hold her up, Tori jumped down and turned to Evon. "Hey, girl," she said, giving her future sister-in-law a hug.

"Welcome home," Evon said, even though she was still laughing. "You got in last night?"

"Yeah, and I can't believe my brother didn't come over to see me."

"You got home after eleven!" Christopher protested.

"So? What did you have to do that was better than seeing your baby sister?"

I didn't miss the exchange between Christopher and Evon. The way he glanced at her, and with a grin, she lowered her eyes.

"Uh
…
I was sleeping," Christopher said to Tori. "You expected me to get out of bed?"

"Yes I did, but whatever. You'll have plenty of time to make that up to me."

"I know, I know. You're home for a month, right?"

"You know what?" Tori said. "I don't want to talk about school, and I don't want to hear about work. She spread her arms wide in the air. "It's Christmas!"

"She's right." I hugged Christopher, then turned to Evon. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart," I said as I pulled her into my arms. She felt like my daughter-in-law already.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Goodman," she said, and then she gave me that smile that could earn her a fortune in a toothpaste commercial. "Thank you for having me." Holding out a foil-covered cake plate, she added, "I baked a little something. I hope you don't mind?"

Mind? Was she kidding? This girl had everything, and she baked, too?

"You didn't have to do that," I said, but I hugged her again before I took the plate from her.

Before I had a chance to tell Evon how delighted I was to have her
and
the cake with us, Christopher stepped back and held up the shopping bags that Tori had knocked from his hands just moments before. "We come bearing gifts."

"Good, big bro," Tori said, grabbing one of the bags from him. "'Cause now that you're making the big bucks over at Disney, you know I'm expecting the biggest and baddest gift ever."

"Oh, don't worry. You're gonna love what I got you." He tapped his fist softly on her head. "Now, the big question is, what did you get me?"

"Haven't you heard? I'm a starving college student!" Tori exclaimed. "I have no money, and I won't for about the next two decades. Because after I graduate and then go to law school, I'll have to work the next ten years to pay off student loans."

"Yeah, right." Christopher laughed and waved his finger in her face. "I'm not falling for that. We have the same parents. Mom and Dad have been saving for your college education since the beginning of time."

All I could do was smile as I turned away from my children and took Evon's cake into the dining room. I sat the plate right in between the sweet potato pie and lemon pound cake.

I'd only been gone a couple of minutes, but when I returned to the living room, my children were in full sibling banter, with Evon and Brock on the sidelines, laughing. I stood at the edge of the living room, taking mental pictures. If I could just keep moments like this in my heart and my mind forever, my life would be completely fulfilled.

"What's all that noise?"

I turned toward the staircase and there was my mother, Beatrice, slowly descending. She held a cane in one hand but wasn't using it, instead leaning her weight on the banister.

In five seconds flat, Brock jumped up from the sofa and dashed into the foyer, where he took the steps two at a time until he reached her. Then he held out his arm, and she grabbed ahold of him as he led her down the rest of the way.

I was about to make my way over to give my mother her morning kiss, but I was knocked out of the way by her grandchildren.

"Merry Christmas," rang through the air over and over again. Hugs and kisses came after that, and then too many arms tried to lead my mom into the living room. But she swatted every single one of them away.

"I can do this by myself!" my seventy-three year old mother grumbled, but with a smile on her face.

They all backed off and held up their hands as if surrendering, and then we all watched my mom balance on her cane and walk slowly into the living room.

I held my breath as I always did when my mom maneuvered with only the assistance of the cane. Not that she had ever fallen or given me cause for concern in this way. It was just that I was watching my mother get older, and she had especially aged after my dad passed away. It had been so tough losing Dad, but it was tougher seeing my mother without my father at her side.

That's why from the moment Dad died in 2005, I'd wanted to scoop my mom up and move her in with me. But Beatrice Collins wasn't giving up any part of her freedom, and she fought me like we were in a world war to maintain her independence. She'd wanted to stay in that home where my brother and I had been raised.

Every few weeks, I talked to her about it, and she always told me no. Then, a few months ago, Brock asked me if he could give it a try. I told him to go for it, though I knew what her answer would be.

I stood and listened as he told my mother, "Let me explain what this means to me, Mom," he'd said. "My family needs you. We need to share as much time as possible with you. We need you for your wisdom; we need you to teach us how to really love. We need you to fill our home with your joy. If my mother were alive, we'd have her with us, too. But I feel just as blessed to have you. So will you do it? Will you move in with us?"

I'd expected her to say, "No, I'm good. " But instead, my mother had hugged him and said, "Okay, I will."

I couldn't believe it, but I wasn't gonna be mad that she'd listened to Brock and not me. A few weeks after that talk, my mom said goodbye to the home where she'd lived for almost fifty years, and she moved in with us to begin new traditions.

As Brock helped my mother get settled onto the sofa, I watched and marveled at just how gentle he was with her. I couldn't count the ways I loved this man.

Once my mother was comfortable in her place, the sounds of Christmas continued. There was no need for Christmas carols. My children teasing each other, my mother's chatter, and all of their laughter was all the music I needed.

I couldn't do anything but smile as I leaned against the wall and watched Christopher and Evon unpack the dozens of gifts, then pass them to Tori as she organized them under the tree.

I sighed.

"That's what I'm talking 'bout," Brock said as he wrapped his arms around me from behind.

"What?" I jumped, just a little. I hadn't even noticed my husband coming up to me.

"I love hearing that
—
that contentment from you and all of this noise from our children."

"That's not noise!" I laughed. "Don't you recognize Christmas when you hear it?"

He held me, and we just stayed there, standing, watching, and soaking up the joy.

Brock whispered, "We're beginning some new traditions today. First, there was just Christopher and Tori."

"And now we have Mom and Evon."

"Soon, Christopher and Evon will have children
…
"

I slapped his hand. "Hush your mouth. I'm not ready to be a grandmother."

"Who said anything about a grandmother? You're more like a glam-mother."

Okay, I had to laugh at that one. "I'll take that. But let's not forget Tori. She'll be getting married soon."

"Not that soon," Brock said. "She still has undergrad and then law school. And knowing our daughter, she'll want to rise to Attorney General before she thinks about any relationship."

Even though I didn't like it, I had to agree with Brock on this one. Whenever I asked Tori about guys, she changed the subject or told me that school and then her career were her priorities.

"There are too many unfortunate people who need my help, Mom. I can't think about a relationship right now."

In a way, I hated that. Not that I didn't think education was important, but I knew that the best success was when you had someone to share it with. I wanted my children to experience all the joy I had with Brock. But no matter what Tori decided to do, I was so proud of both of my children. They'd been through quite a bit when Quentin had left us, and thank God neither one suffered scars from the past.

Brock kissed the back of my head, then stepped away, and I released another sigh of contentment. This Christmas scene that played out in front of me was what life was all about.

Family. Love. Tradition.

Then the doorbell rang.

Just out of habit, I waited for Tori to make a move, but it didn't even seem like she heard the bell since she stayed at her spot near the tree. Chuckling, I turned toward the door.

Now, maybe it was because I'd been so caught up in Christmas that I forgot to think, I forgot to brace myself.

I opened the door
…
and then, I forgot to breathe.

There stood Quentin.

It had been a moment, at least a year since I'd seen Quentin, and my first thought was why hadn't he aged the way all humans were supposed to? And my next thought: What an absolute waste of fineness
—
sharing all of that with another man.

"Merry Christmas, Sheridan." Quentin stepped inside and kissed my cheek before I had a chance to respond.

I was just about to return his Christmas greeting, but he turned his body slightly. "I hope you don't mind; I bought a guest." He took a single step to the side so that I could see. "Sheridan, this is my fianc
é
e."

I don't know what opened wider
—
my eyes or my mouth.

Quentin had to be kidding. No way would he do this. Not today. Not at Christmas!