“Jacob, the point of Christmas break is to sleep in,” I griped as he shoved me in the passenger seat of his car. “Where are we going anyway?”
He excitedly pulled out of our driveway before I could finish buckling my seat belt. “You’ll see,” he answered, shooting me a wink.
“There better be coffee,” I grumbled. “And doughnuts.” I dragged my hair up into a messy bun on top of my head. Tendrils of hair escaped the bun, but I gave them no notice, tucking them behind my ear. My jaw clicked as I yawned widely. I was exhausted. I’d been up half the night keeping a watchful eye on the dark shadow that had taken up permanent residence in my room. The moment I closed my eyes, they would spring back open to find that the oppressive shadow seemed to have expanded just a little bit more. I was terrified about what would happen when it no longer had anywhere left to go. What would happen then?
A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. My hands became clammy and my heart thumped painfully in my chest. I inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm myself down, pushing the thoughts back. Instead I focused on the road ahead of us and not the sight I was sure I would see if I turned to look behind me. It would be there, following us. It was always there.
Jacob’s secret destination turned out to be a tree farm. A very sad tree farm. It was in the parking lot of a dying mall. Half the retail stores had abandoned the shopping center years ago, leaving it with a disarray of shops that seemed to change every few months. Judging by the slim pickings, waiting until two days before Christmas was not the ideal time to be out buying a tree. These trees were better suited for kindling than holding ornaments.
“A Christmas tree, Jacob?” I questioned, following behind him slowly. We hadn’t had a tree since Leah. Hell, I wasn’t sure we even had decorations anymore. “I’m not sure…” My voice trailed off as I eyed the pitiful selection around us.
“Yes, a Christmas tree,” he responded, rubbing his hands together with determination. “It’s time we start acting like a damn family and I don’t care if that starts with just you and me. We’re going to walk this lot and pick out a tree. Even if it’s a sorry-ass tree,” he added, lifting up a wilted limb of a tree that dragged along the ground. “And then we’re going to take it home and decorate it. We’re going to string so many fucking lights on our tree that this darkness asshole you’ve been seeing won’t be able to touch it.” His teeth clanked together as I threw myself in his arms, hugging him hard. My unexpected display of affection startled us both.
We weren’t huggers as a rule but at that moment it didn’t matter. Ten years of lost affection were made up for in one instant as I conveyed what his words meant to me. I’d been all alone in an ocean of turbulent water for so long. It was as if someone had suddenly thrown me a life preserver. Jacob was that life preserver. He returned the hug without shame. Neither of us cared that we were in the middle of some crappy mall parking lot, standing in the center of a dying tree farm. For that brief moment we weren’t a broken family. We were a unit. Jacob and I.
The sound of someone clearing their throat broke the moment. I turned to see an older man wearing a straw hat and dirty overalls watching us with appreciation. “Can I help you?” he croaked. The sound of his voice suggested that he had spent the better part of the last fifty years inhaling two packs of cigarettes a day.
?
??We’re here to get a tree,” Jacob replied.
“Figured as much. But I was about to ask if you two wanted a room?” he said, raising his eyebrows at us suggestively.
I wrinkled up my nose. “Eww, no.” Gross. Okay, no more hugging in public.
Jacob’s face turned pale and then green before answering. “Really, dude? She’s my sister,” he said with disgust, stalking off to look for a tree. I could still hear him grumbling two rows over.
“Not my place to judge,” the old man wheezed as he shuffled off.
Not sure if I should gag or laugh, I trailed after Jacob in search of the perfect tree that needed a home. This would be our Charlie Brown moment.
An hour later we were pulling back in our driveway with the least saddest tree we could find strapped to the roof of Jacob’s car and a bagful of Christmas lights.
“What are you going to tell Mom and Dad about the tree?” I asked. Together Jacob and I undid the ropes that we’d used to bind the tree to the roof.
“You mean ‘if’ they ask?”
“Good point.” Chances were Mom and Dad wouldn’t care either way. A part of me hoped they would. Even if it made them feel something, even if it made them sad, or even if it made them spitting mad. Anything was better than the constant nothing.
Jacob hoisted the tree easily onto his shoulder. I carried the bag of lights, ignoring the nagging feeling that I was being followed. Constantly followed.
It took most of the morning and early afternoon to decorate the tree. Jacob continued with his onslaught of cheer. He was jovial and loud and had Christmas music playing in the background as if he had researched how to be festive. He kept up a constant stream of forced conversation and trivial questions that led to mindless rabbit-hole discussions. He never gave my brain a chance to dwell on my problems. What he hadn’t counted on though were the memories that assailed us both as we dug through the ornaments. Ten years of forgotten memories slugged us in our chests with the force of a jackhammer. We weren’t prepared to see the ornaments from a different lifetime. By the time we were done both of us had tears in our eyes.
When we finished the tree was no longer empty. Jacob bent down to plug in the lights. He made an exaggerated drumroll noise with his lips before switching the lights on. We stood back to survey our work. Jacob was definitely right, the tree was bright—it lit up half of the room. The only problem was it still wasn’t enough, and we both knew it. Maybe it would never be enough. The darkness Jacob had worked so hard to get me to forget was still there waiting for me in the shadows.
14
LEAH
THE LIGHT flickered on, making my eyes burn. I pulled the blanket tighter around my face, but it was a weak shield. The light was unrelenting. I had wanted it so badly after being left in the dark for days. Now the light flooded the room, making my head spin. I couldn’t remember why I thought I had missed it.
My senses, which had been cut off so abruptly, felt overwhelmed. The sound of footsteps on the stairs pounded like they were walking on my own head. If my weakened voice would only work I would beg the noise to stop. I curled up tighter in my cocoon. Whether Mother had forgiven me no longer mattered. I wanted this life no more.
I could hear Mother’s voice over the buzzing in my head. She was singing to me like she used to when I had first come to live with her. Years ago her crooning had given me comfort; now it was poison to my ears. I was a void, an empty vessel.
She tugged at my arm, but I made no movement in response. The shackle around my wrist clicked open and dropped to the floor. My arm fell listlessly to the bed.
“My poor baby is so weak,” Mother clucked, smoothing her hand across my forehead. My head lulled to the side, insensitive to her affection. “It’s okay. Mother will take care of you. First, I need to clean you. Don’t worry. I’m not mad that you soiled your clothes. You’ve been a sick girl.”