Chapter 20 - CHRISTMAS AGAIN
One year after the slap, our Christmas dinner had seven people instead of fourteen.
James cooked the turkey badly.
I told him it was dry.
He accused me of treason.
Mom laughed so hard she snorted into her water.
Uncle Bob brought mashed potatoes and, for once, no whiskey.
Megan drove in with Tyler and Lily, who were now old enough to roll their eyes at every adult in the room.
And Emma, eighteen months old, wore a red dress and spent most of dinner trying to feed peas to the dog.
Nobody demanded she stop crying when she got tired.
Nobody called her spoiled when she reached for me.
Nobody said family meant enduring whatever someone else chose to do.
After dinner, Mom helped me wash dishes.
"I heard from Lauren," she said carefully.
I kept rinsing a plate.
"Okay."
"She finished the first phase of her treatment program. She asked me not to tell you anything else unless you wanted to know."
I looked at Mom.
"Thank you," I said.
Mom nodded and handed me a towel.
Later, after everyone left, James and I sat on the floor beside the Christmas tree while Emma stacked empty gift boxes into a crooked tower.
"You okay?" he asked.
I looked at the lights reflected in the window.
"Yeah."
And I meant it.
I was okay because I had finally learned something my family should have taught me years ago:
Peace is not the absence of conflict.
Peace is knowing you no longer have to betray yourself to keep everyone else comfortable.
Emma knocked over her box tower and squealed.
James caught her before she toppled with it.
She laughed and grabbed his face with both hands.
"Dada!"
He smiled like she'd handed him the world.
Then he looked at me.
"Remember the countdown?"
I did.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
At the time, I thought James was counting down the seconds until Lauren left the house.
I know better now.
He was counting down the last seconds of the old rules.
The old fear.
The old silence.
May you like
When he reached nine that Christmas night, something in our family finally started ending.
And something better finally had room to begin.
