In A Holidaze(22)

Andrew puts a gentling hand on my arm. “Mae,” he says, but we’re all distracted by a groaning crack overhead. I look up just in time to see a large snow-covered branch buckle beneath the weight and plummet, almost in slow motion. Straight for me.





chapter eleven


This time I wake up screaming in betrayal, clutching my face and my head, searching for blood or brains, or God knows what. But, of course, there’s nothing.

I don’t have to look to know exactly where I am, and I honestly have no more shits to give.

“I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT IS GOING ON,” I shout to the plane around me. Sure, 219 other people have to deal with a crazy woman yelling in an enclosed space with them, but hopefully the universe hears me, too, because I have had it.

I didn’t ask my dad if I had a head injury.

I made a pledge to save the cabin.

I was absolutely on track to never kiss Theo Hollis again.

What the hell else am I supposed to be doing?

A hush falls over the entire plane, and I feel the press of my family’s stunned attention on the side of my face. Even Mom woke up for this.

A flight attendant leans over Miles to whisper to me. Tiny silver bells pinned to her sweater jingle in the deafening silence. “Ma’am, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say, irritably and clearly not fine at all. But who cares? Nobody! They’re not going to remember this anyway! “Just been living the same freaking day over and over again, but whatever. Let’s just land and get on with it.”

“Can I get you a beverage?” she asks, sotto voce.

“Is that code for ‘You’re scaring other passengers; can I give you some wine?’ ”

She just smiles.

“I’m good. Thanks.” Leaning forward, I catch my father’s eye. “Dad, when we get to the cabin, don’t eat the goddamn cookie.”

? ? ?

We climb out of the car, and it’s lovely and everyone is excited and yes, this is normally my favorite moment of the year with my favorite people, but Lord, I can’t do it again. I am so tired.

I give advice as I quickly deliver hugs. “Kennedy, watch out for Miso on your way inside. Dad, once again, don’t eat the cookies. Everyone? Kyle has a new tattoo. It’s on his arm—a music note—and it’s very cool but don’t touch it, it’s healing. Ricky,” I continue, “don’t worry about the Hendrick’s, everyone is fine with Bombay—and Aaron isn’t drinking anyway because he’s middle-aged and stressed about getting old. Speaking of hair, Theo, your haircut is great, but your hair wasn’t ever the problem. And Lisa?” I say, and a twinge of guilt worms through me because they’re all staring at me with wide, worried eyes. “I love you—so much—but maybe let Aaron pick the music tonight.” I pause. “And let Mom take the photos.”

If it weren’t so cold out, we’d be able to hear crickets chirping in the confused silence.

“I really don’t mean to sound like an asshole,” I say, adding, “Oops, earmuffs, kids! I’ve just had a day.” This makes me laugh—a day!—and it takes me a few awkward seconds to get the cackling under control. “It’s well established that I’m a terrible drinker, but if anyone is mixing drinks, I’d love something fruity with vodka. No eggnog.”

Andrew snaps his fingers, and I look over at him. His eyes are wide, but his mouth is smiling. My eternally unflappable hero. “Coming right up, Crazy Maisie.”

Do I want to follow him inside? Do I want to flirt with him on the porch? Yes. But it won’t matter; it will only get my hopes up.

I stare at the sky and let out a long, exhausted groan. “What is even the poooooint?”

A hand comes around my upper arm. “Maelyn?” It’s Dad. “Honey, what’s going on?”

“I’d say it’s a long story, but it’s actually not. I’m stuck here. In time.” I let out an unhinged cackle. “Do I want to visit this cabin every year? Yes. But do I really want to keep reliving December twentieth forever in order to do it? No. No, I do not.”

He and Mom share a worried look. “Maybe we should take her to a doctor,” Mom says.

Dad turns to look at her incredulously. “I am a doctor.”

She sighs. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, actually.”

The tide of guilt rises higher in me—they’re already bickering, and I’m the reason—but I can’t fix that right now. They’ll have to figure this out on their own.

Turning my pleading eyes on Benny, I say, “We need to talk.”

I look back to Mom, sending her a silent Just give me a minute, before Benny and I head up to the porch. I love my mother, but right now I need Benny’s even temper.

I try to undo my turbulent arrival with some quick, gentle kisses to the tops of Kennedy and Zachary’s heads, but they go still and nervous under my touch.

At least Kennedy pays attention to where the dog is when she walks inside.

And Dad doesn’t eat a cookie.

But no one is going to remember this anyway.

? ? ?

Benny sits next to me on the porch swing, and we rock back and forth in aware silence. I can barely make out the shape of the house next door through the trees but can see the smoke curling from the chimney, the glow of their outdoor Christmas lights through the branches.