AUTUMN: He’s actually under my bed right now :-) (I’m willing to bet my life on the fact that you will. And SOON.)
My mom walks into the kitchen and I quickly slip my phone into my pocket.
“Do you plan on rejoining everyone else or are you going to hide in here for the rest of dinner?” she asks.
“Depends...Is Eric coming? Did you finally decide to call him and personally give an invite?”
“Really, Mia?” She scrunches up her face. “You’re going to bring him up on Christmas Eve?”
“Him? You say that like he’s some type of stranger. He’s my older brother, and he also happens to be your son.”
“No, he was your brother. He made the decision to be a social deviant and turn his back on us. Until he makes some major changes to his personal psyche, he’s not welcome here.”
“His ‘personal psyche’? It’s been four years.”
“Well, let’s try to make it four more years and see if he’ll finally come to his senses.”
“Mom—”
“Now is not the time, Mia. We have guests. We can discuss this in private later.”
“You don’t really mean that.”
“Of course, I don’t.” She picks up a stick of butter “So, can we please focus on having a nice holiday with the people who actually cared enough to show up tonight, please?” She walks out of the kitchen.
I pull a plate out of the cabinet and load it with food, walking up the back staircase and locking myself in my room. I know she won’t come up here and ask me to come down. She’d never cause a scene.
I devour my dinner, put on my headphones, and shut my eyes—swearing to God that I’ll get the hell away from her the second I graduate.
***
I’ve slept through the eggnog making, the family home-video-watch marathon, and the “You can open one gift before midnight” tradition. It’s the middle of the night and all of my aunts and cousins are tucked away in guest rooms, while my mother speaks to one of her most anxiety prone clients in her home office.
I tiptoe downstairs to get a piece of cheesecake and then I come right back, burying myself beneath my blankets again.
Just as I’ve gotten the blanket to cover my feet at exactly the right angle, my phone buzzes with a text. Dean.
DEAN: Merry Christmas. Are you awake right now?
MIA: Merry Christmas. Nope.
DEAN: Good. I need you to go somewhere with me. (I also have a present for you...)
I look at the time and rub my eyes, knowing he can’t be serious right now.
MIA: It’s 1:00 in the morning! What could possibly be open at this hour? (What type of present? And hey...you totally stole this from Autumn...)
DEAN: The swimming pool at the country club by my house. (I’ll show it to you when I see you...And yeah, I did. It’s actually quite useful. :-) )
DEAN: How long will it take you to get ready?
MIA: Whoa, whoa, whoa. You want us to go swimming in the WINTER?!
MIA: Fifteen minutes :-)
DEAN: It’s an indoor pool :-) I’m around the corner already. Let me know when you want me to drive over and get you.
I lay in bed for a few seconds longer, soaking up the last few moments of my perfect blanket warmth. I want to message something else sarcastic to Dean, but before I get the chance, another text from him comes through.
DEAN: Yes. I expect you to swim with me.
I smile and get up, searching for my swimsuit. When I locate it, I quickly undress and put it on, but there’s no way I can wear this out with him. It’s an ugly brown one piece with faded red polka dots and he might take one look at it and volunteer to bring me right back home.
Ugh...
I slip out of my room and quietly step down the hall to my mother’s room. I find a box full of her many unopened bikinis from her incessant shopping days, and take out two: A red and a black one.
Returning to my room, I put on the red one and after one glance in the mirror, I immediately take it off.
Too much cleavage. Gives the wrong impression.
I try on the black one and it’s even worse. There’s pushup material in the bottom of the top and it makes my C cups look like Ds. Before I consider telling Dean that I won’t be coming, I can practically hear Autumn’s voice in my head.
“It’s a bikini, Mia. Showing off your body is like, the whole point.”
I put on a long-sleeved T-shirt, a hoodie, and a coat. Then I send a quick text to Autumn, letting her know where I’ll be, just in case something happens.
DEAN: Do I need to come to your front door?
MIA: No! I’ll be coming out of the dining room window. Do not park in the driveway!
DEAN: You have to sneak out?
MIA: Clearly. Park your car up the street.
A few minutes later, I head downstairs and into the dining room. I shut the French doors so no one will hear me opening the window. When I’m sure all is clear, I push up the glass and slowly climb outside.