Page 27 of Not Home Alone
“Tit for tat,” I say on my way back into my office.
And I wish that didn’t make me smile for so long.
TEN
MERRILY
My dad wasn’t kidding about the light layer of dust over my storage bin of Notcracker stuff. It doesn’t look like he’s been down in the basement for years, except to relocate my belongings from the room formerly known as my bedroom. I never realized how little soundproofing there is down here until now. Probably because I’ve never hidden—I mean been—down here when there were so many noisy people upstairs.
They are so noisy. They don’t look noisy. But they’re constantly yelling at each other like there’s a train passing by or something. Just typical New Yorkers, you know how they are, my dad had said after he first met Connie’s family. But I’ve never really been in the same room with multiple typical New Yorkers before. They’re super nice, but they’re… a lot. Not too much! Just a lot. Suddenly the quiet of the Home Alone House, even with Grant inside, is much preferable.
And then there’s April, my new stepsister, who’s… the opposite of loud but also somehow a lot. But I feel for her. She’s a sixteen-year-old girl who just moved here from Chicago in the middle of a school year because her mom got remarried. And she thinks everyone in her extended family is cringe and that Holly Grove is Big Yikes and that Christmas is Basic.
I need to get up there and make an effort with her. Be the big sister to her that I always wished I had when I was growing up… Here I go… In a minute.
When I finally carry the plastic bin up the stairs and push the door open into the hall next to the kitchen, I hear Connie’s mother, Missy, call out, “Oh, whaddya got there, hon? Buck—go help her carry that box!”
“What box?” Connie’s dad says.
“The one she’s carryin’, dummy!”
“I’m fine, really!” I assure them. “It’s not heavy.”
“Oh, lemme get that for you,” Mr. Newman says. “What’s the use of havin’ these big, strong muscles if I can’t help out a pretty lady, huh?” He flexes his biceps, which I can’t see under the green cardigan, but I’m sure they’re there.
“Oh my god, Dad! Eww!” Joanne, Connie’s younger sister, says. I believe she’s in her early forties, but she is as horrified as a fourteen-year-old. “Don’t flirt with her; she’s your granddaughter now! I think. Is that right? Is step-granddaughter a thing?”
“We’re all just family here, right?” Connie says. “One big happy family.” She holds her hand up over her mouth and stage whispers, “Except for April. But she’s happy on the inside.”
“No, I’m not!” April calls out from another room.
“Just let him feel useful,” Missy “Call Me Grandma” Newman says, as I’m about to place the bin on the floor.
“I got it, I got it!” he says.
I hand the bin over to him, and he grabs it by the handles. It really is light. “Okay, thank you.”
“No problem. Where do you want it?”
“Umm…” I point down at the floor by my feet, where I was about to put it.
“Ah. Here you go.” He places it on the floor by my feet and then dusts off his hands. “My work here is done. I think I’ve earned another cuppa eggnog, huh?”
“Thanks again, Mr. Newman.”
“Oh, call me Buck. As a matter of fact, you can call me anytime.” He winks. Not in a salacious way. In a really goofy way. But maybe a little creepy.
“Dad. Eww!” Joanne reiterates.
“Merrily!” Connie exclaims.
It startles me. Connie isn’t usually as loud as the rest of her family. She’s from New York too, but she’s lived in Illinois for twenty years. But I guess she’s excited to be with her family. “Yes?”
“Eggnog? It’s got bourbon and rum!” She winks, just like her dad. Also in a goofy way and not creepy. “Come on! It’s a Newman family recipe. You gotta try it!” It’s sweet that she’s trying so hard to make me feel welcome in the house I grew up in. I guess.
“Okay. I’ll have half a cup, thank you.”
Erica, Connie’s other younger sister, comes into the kitchen, rubbing her belly. “Hooo boy! I had way too much Irish coffee after lunch. If I have diarrhea one more time, I think I’ll be able to fit into my skinny jeans. Connie, make me another mug, will you?”
