Monday, December 24
Trish and I haven’t spoken since she hung up on me. I texted her last week to ask what I should bring for Christmas Eve dinner and she responded, “A salad.”
I drove to the barn, took Jack for a ride, and stopped at the grocery store for Cesar salad ingredients. Blake and I left for Trish’s half an hour later than we should have. I habitually cram too much into my day and run late. My lack of punctuality is not something I’m proud of. I’ve shaved my late time down to about ten minutes and I’m not late for work, but I still play beat the clock. Pretty sure I have an adrenaline addiction.
“Call Nana and tell her we’re running late,” I told Blake. “Ask her to tell Trish.”
“I’m getting her voicemail,” he said. “Hi Nana. We’re on our way to Aunt Trish’s. Of course we’re running late. Just wanted you to know.”
A minute later my phone rang. Blake put the call on speaker.
“Hi Mom,” Tom said.
“Blake and I are on our way but we’ll probably be half an hour late,” I said.
“What else is new,” Tom said. “I’m glad I’m with Nana. We’ll be there on time.”
“Yeah, I know. Will you tell Aunt Trish that Blake and I will be a little late?”
“Hurry up. I want to eat and open presents.”
Trish’s mother-in-law was going to be at Trish’s. I liked Bea. I’d sit by her. I liked my nephews and Trish’s husband, Mark, too. I’d stick to them.
Blake and I pulled into Trish’s driveway. We grabbed our presents and salad. No one said a word about JB. Not one. I breathed easier. I hung with Bea, Mark, and my nephews. It was pleasant. On our way home, the boys and I stopped at Walgreens and bought pancake mix and bacon for Christmas morning. Yay.