Nadine
Nadine
To say the invite amongst my mail surprised me was an understatement.
I read it twice. Picked up the rich cream envelope again and checked the address written in elegant cursive, in real ink. Yup, my grandmother actually decided to host a party on Christmas eve.
I took a sip of the hot, strong coffee while I contemplated whether to attend or not.
If it were up to me, my boyfriend and I wouldn’t go out for Christmas at all. I’d be more than content with spending the holidays here, in our large and comfortable apartment with a beautiful view of the river and the city’s Christmas decorations. Unwrap the presents under our huge artificial tree adorned with lights and ornaments in all colours of the rainbow. Polish off a nice bottle of wine paired with some fancy snacks.
My man, Charlie, was the only person I couldn’t spend the holidays without.
Right on cue, he walked into the kitchen to make himself a cup.
I admired his tall, lean figure when he took a mug from the cupboard. As he bent down, I caught a glimpse of his beautifully shaped behind. I wished I could reach out and squeeze it, but instead I observed from where I sat. Touching would have to wait until he came close enough.
He tousled his unruly brown curls and eyed me with suspicious curiosity while he waited for the coffee machine to loudly grind the beans. After pouring the dark fragrant liquid, he took his cup and joined me at the high counter. “What’s that?” He asked, pointing at the card I held between two fingers like it was a dangerous substance.
“An invite to my gran’s Christmas party,” I said, handing it to him.
His police inspector persona came out. Before he read it, he weighed it in his hands and smelled it. Then he and raised one eyebrow. “This is your mom’s mom?”
I brushed a strand of my long red hair tickling my cheek aside and nodded. A direct request like this couldn’t be ignored. My gran was a sly woman. I had successfully evaded seeing my family at Christmas for three years. With these handwritten summons, she made sure I couldn’t refuse especially when she was hosting. But I did not want to go… not at all.
“We should go. I think it’s high time I met your family,” Charlie remarked, while assembling his breakfast—a bowl of yoghurt, fruit, and muesli. I watched his efficient, unhurried actions as he prepared his simple but filling meal. When he prepared me a portion as well, my heart nearly burst. Acts of service were a big part of my love language, so these small gestures reinforced each time why I cared about him so much.
Distracted, I nearly forgot to answer his question. “You don’t want to, trust me. They’re annoying people. I wouldn’t mind if you never met them.” I really did not want to subject him to the dumpster fire called my family.
My parents divorced when I was fifteen. Dad started a new family when he turned forty, and I hadn’t seen him since. From what I gathered on social media, he moved abroad, to Spain, his new wife’s birth place. He still sent me a birthday card every year, so I guess that counted for something.
My mom was another story. Like dad, she had also found someone new, a sleazeball called Joe. They were the reason I tried to weasel out of family functions.
Joe moved in when I was in secondary school and tried to parent me. As a rebellious teen, fought him on everything, which hurt his fragile ego.
He doubled down and set a curfew, which of course I always broke. Then he began checking my phone as soon as I entered the house to monitor if I was in contact with boys.
His creepy behaviour escalated. He vetted my outfits, repeatedly labeling them as ‘too sexy for school’. I shuddered recalling how he went through my underwear drawer and threw away all thongs, but when I snuck to the garbage bin to fish them out, I couldn’t find them. I’d suspected he kept them, which still disgusted me. Sometimes he barged into my room at night or lingered outside the bathroom when I went to take a shower. When I questioned him, he claimed it was to make sure I didn’t engage in ‘improper activities’.
Once, he dared to call me a ‘little slut’ when I was messaging a male classmate on my laptop for a group project. When I complained to my mom, he defended himself, saying I must have heard him wrong. His word against mine, and my mom chose his side. When she continued to back him up, instead of protecting me, I lost all respect for her, too. That betrayal cut so deep, I still resented her for that.
When I turned eighteen and left for university, I moved to the other side of the country and never looked back. It reassured me that I at least had Gran’s support. She was the only one who kept in touch after I’d left town, hence why I felt conflicted about refusing to show up on Christmas eve this year. After all, I couldn’t ask Gran to choose between her daughter and me.
Charlie pulled me towards him and planted a kiss on the top of my head. “They’re your family though, so I want to meet them.”
I appreciated the sentiment, but at the same time I didn’t want to expose him to the madness. With the exception of Gran, my family was full of insufferable people; jealous, spiteful and condescending.
“Are you sure? It’s going to be hella awkward. I haven’t seen those people in years. There’s going to be lots of accusations flying, and plenty of hostility.”
He chuckled. “Then I’ll happily be your lightning rod.”
“You’re amazing. I don’t deserve you,” I gave him a hug. With Charlie by my side, I could withstand the heat. “Right back at you,” he whispered into my ear.
I still wasn’t convinced we should go. On the one hand, I did look forward to seeing Gran again. Not going back home also meant not visiting her, and I really wanted her and Charlie to know each other.
I remained conflicted as Charlie and I left the apartment together.
I dropped him off on my way to work, at North precinct, where he worked as a Detective Chief Inspector in the homicide unit. Excelling at his job, he had climbed the ranks in a matter of a few years, becoming the youngest DCI on the force. We had met on the job. As a true crime podcaster, I had pestered him until his boss took me on as a consultant. Today, instead of joining him, I kissed him goodbye when I parked at the precinct entrance and drove to my recording studio instead, hoping the day would bring clarity for the decision I needed to make.
