The Plight Before Christmas(82)

Whitney glances up. The junkyard dog crazed look in her eyes has Thatch and I both taking a step back as she delivers a threat. “You say another word, Thatch, and I’m buying all the children puppies for Christmas. A puppy for each child. Do you understand me?! A puppy for each child!”

I can’t help my chuckle as I lean over to a wide-eyed Thatch. His Adam’s apple bobs with his swallow. “I see she still impulse shops when she’s pissed. She bought a ticket to Japan after we fought once.”

“I got a refund,” she counters while wrestling a plastic bag hitched on the lip of one of the shopping carts. When she finally rips it free, it explodes—the contents scattering on the pavement. I bend to help her collect a litter of cheap plastic toys. When I’ve retrieved a few, she snatches them from my hands. “I’ve got it!” I lift my palms in surrender and watch her shove them into a new bag.

“Something happen in the store, sis?” Thatch asks, eyes widening in my direction.

Ignoring him, Whitney finishes unloading endless sacks of shit I can’t even begin to identify into the truck before unveiling a mini four-pack of wine, twisting off the top and downing one as she walks around the SUV to the passenger side. Knocking on the door ceremoniously, she delivers a bottle to Serena. “Drink your juice box, sis. The first speed round starts after dinner.”

“On it, thanks, bro,” Serena says as she clinks plastic bottles with Whitney.

“Tonight is your night, bro,” Serena and Whitney sing-song together in some inside joke I can’t decipher.

“Oh, fuck,” Thatch mutters, terror in his tone over the whine of the electric motor as the hatch starts to close.

“What is happening here?” I watch on as Whitney nearly busts her ass after slipping on a small patch of ice. Flinching, I go to try and spare her from another fall just as she catches herself by gripping the door handle of the SUV. After sliding into her seat, she shoots Thatch and me a scathing side-eye and devilish smirk before tipping her bottle up while slamming herself inside.

From outside the car, we again hear them collectively belt out. “Tonight is your night, bro!”

Thatch turns to me and shakes his head. “It’s from an old movie, “Twins,” Schwarzenegger and DeVito, and don’t ask me to explain it because I can’t. It’s weird sister shit, but…translation? It’s a war cry that means they’re going off-script…rogue, and it’s going to be a long fucking night.”




From the driver’s seat, Thatch eyes Serena with fear as she upturns her second wine. “This really isn’t the time, Serena. It’s a family holiday, not a girl’s trip to Cancun.”

“It’s whatever we want it to be, right, Whit?”

“Here, here,” Whitney chides, sipping her own second bottle.

“God knows you have no idea what fun means anymore,” Serena quips as I cringe, feeling the tension brewing. “My King,” she snorts.

Oh shit.

She must’ve taken Whitney’s advice, and it seems it didn’t go so well at all.

“What does that mean?” Thatch retorts warily. “And what the hell happened in that store to bring us to Defcon 1?”

Thatch helplessly eyes me in the rearview as I sink a little in my seat.

“Breakdown, aisle eight, Nerf guns,” Serena mutters dryly. “Don’t worry. I’m over it. By the way, you’re watching the kids tonight.”

“Whatever,” Thatch says, clearly irritated.

“Is that so much to ask? They are your children, too.”

“I said fine.”

“Actually, you said whatever,” she quips.

“Serena,” Whitney warns, glancing at me as I watch them volley back and forth.

“All right,” she sighs. “Fuck it.”

The silence in the cabin only adds to the tension as Thatch pulls up to the house and turns to Serena. “Screw that noise. I know how to have a good time. You’re the one who’s always the fucking buzzkill.”

Grenade pin pulled, Whitney immediately turns to me. “Get out of the car. Right now.”

Not needing a second warning, I fly out of my door and wait at the trunk for Thatch to release it as I watch Serena through the back windshield, her head seeming to turn in slow motion, Exorcist style, her voice muffled as she starts to read Thatch the riot act.

“Nope, Eli, forget the bags for now, this way,” Whitney instructs, motioning for me to join her as she heads behind the garage, safely out of the warpath. Not ten seconds later, Thatch and Serena exit the SUV and charge through the side door of the garage, door slamming just before yelling ensues.

Whitney and I brave a peek around to see the back of the SUV open and shoot towards it before wordlessly starting to gather bags. We both pause as Serena’s voice rings clear from the other side of the garage door.

“You want to know what happened? I heard a song about how marriage takes a toll as I was shopping and started crying in a fucking superstore because I related to it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jesus Thatch, do you not know me at all anymore? Can’t you see how bad it’s gotten between us, how much we’re growing apart, and how upset it’s making me? Can’t you read me at all?”

“I mean, I knew we weren’t connecting lately, but I didn’t realize you were this unhappy.”