Page 46 of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree
“Lilah, I don’t know how much longer your father and I can put up with your quarter-life crisis or whatever you want to call this little rebellion you’ve staged in recent years.”
My back teeth grind together.
“Mother, I am not experiencing any sort of life crisis.” Even if I am experiencing a broken heart. “Furthermore, my being in the band is not a rebellion. This is my job. My dream job at that.”
She scoffs. “You don’t need to work. Why can’t you be more like your sisters?”
“I know I don’t need to work. Igetto.”
“You’re exactly like your Aunt Sarah.”
It’s the best compliment she’s ever paid me.
“Thank you.”
“Now that I know you’re not lying dead in a ditch somewhere, I have to get ready. Lara and Leighton will be here soon.”
At least my mother can console herself with my younger sisters.
“Okay, please tell everyone I said Merry Christmas.”
The only response is the click of the phone.
At least now I have confirmation that my phone does indeed work. Wouldn’t know it by how often ithasn’trung in the last two days.
Not like I want to talk to anyone.
That’s a lie.
I want to talk to Evan. The blow-up in the conference room was two days ago. For the first twenty-four hours, I had this vision in my head. One where he would show up at my door and apologize. Sort of like John Cusack inSay Anything.The next twelve hours were spent waiting for a phone call I assumed was coming, even if it was to tell me we were through but that I was still a member of the band and we could be civil to each other.
For the last twelve hours, I’ve alternated between rage-cleaning my apartment and watching the two Hollie Berry Christmas movies I have on DVD.All Snowed Innis currently cycling through the credits.
“Time to watchChasing Snowflakesagain. Is three times too many?” I snort. “Great, Lilah, just great. Talking to yourself. Maybe you should avoid cutesy holiday romances from now on and stick to classics likeDie Hard. At least John McClane had Al to talk to when he was on his own.”
And sure, there are people I can call. But it’s Christmas Eve. Everyone is busy celebrating the holiday with their loved ones. Eating a fabulous dinner they spent all day preparing instead of falling face first into a giant bowl of popcorn.
My phone vibrates again, and this time, I’m equal parts hopeful it’s Evan and fearful of my mother calling back.
Aunt Sarah.
Visiting her in Montana for Christmas sounds better than what I’m doing now.
“Hello?”
“Merry Christmas, my little lilac tree.”
My lips curve slightly for the first time since I walked out of the conference room at Cornerstone. Her greeting never fails to do that. I’ve been Aunt Sarah’s lilac tree for as long as I can remember.
“You too. How’s your white Christmas?”
Every year, she reminds me that I’ll only get a white Christmas if I come to see her.
“Can’t really say it’s white unless I count the sand on the beaches.”
“Beaches? You’re not in Montana?”
Her tinkling laughter sounds far away. “No, I didn’t want to tromp through however many feet of snow for the holidays this year. I’m in the Virgin Islands, checking out a resort some friends were telling me about—the Indigo Royal.”
