Hometown Snapshots

     Kat woke on a Saturday morning and hurled curses at the sky. She was supposed to be boarding a plane to Fiji in a few hours, but the completely inconsiderate weathercaster on the news had informed her that an impending monster snowstorm amassing off the eastern seaboard was going to ground all air travel in and out of New York. Kat was staring out her window, willing the dark clouds away when the phone rang. Her sister’s face appeared on the screen and Kat let out a heavy sigh before answering.

     “Dana,” she said with forced brightness. 

     “Kat,” Dana replied, with sincere brightness. Nothing was ever forced or faked with Dana. She was the most annoyingly authentic person Kat had ever met.

      “Where are you headed for the holidays this year?” Dana asked.

      “I was going to Fiji,” Kat mumbled. “But there's a storm coming.” 

      “That's great!”

      Kat knew she'd made a grave mistake telling her sister that she'd be stuck at home. There was an air of triumph in Dana’s tone, and Kat wondered if she had somehow orchestrated the blizzard.

      “You can come home for Christmas then,” Dana said. Kat could just picture her expression, somehow glowing and smug at the same time.

      “No way,” Kat protested. “I am not driving to Connecticut.” 

     “You can make it before the storm gets bad if you leave right now,” Dana said. “Everyone would love to see you.”

      “Doubt it.”

      “Kat’s free for Christmas!” Dana shouted to someone in the background.

      “Dana!” Kat exclaimed, alarmed. “Do not tell people that I'm coming home for Christmas.”

      “She's coming home for Christmas!” 

      “I am going to throttle you.” 

      “Aunt Charlize is already planning to set another place at the table, so it's settled,” Dana said, utterly unfazed by Kat’s threats. “See you in a couple hours!”

       There was a click and Kat stared at her phone, incredulous, wondering what the hell just happened. She glanced at her suitcases, packed with sunscreen and bikinis and a floppy sun hat. Not at all suited to a Christmas in Belbridge. Kat dragged herself off the couch and dumped out all her Fiji gear, refilling the suitcase with gloves and beanies and sweaters. She rifled through the closet for some sturdy snow boots and clomped outside into the frigid air, glaring at the dark clouds again.

      “This is your fault,” she muttered, shoving her suitcase into the trunk. A few flakes of snow drifted down, mocking her. Kat filled up the gas tank and headed north, not sure why she'd let her sister bully her into going home. She hadn't been home for Christmas, or anything else, in six years. The fight she'd had with her parents before she left was so epic in scale that she thought she could still hear it, like a stubborn echo. Maybe it seemed cruel for Kat to reject the family legacy and leave, after Zach. But she needed to live her own life and his responsibilities had been thrust upon her while she was still reeling from his loss. 

      Kat’s big brother had been like a lighthouse, a shining beacon of safety in the dark. She felt unmoored without him. Zach was primed to take over the family restaurant as the oldest, and the one who loved the place most. Their parents thought Kat should become the new future owner as a way to honor him, but Kat felt that the best way to honor him was to do what he'd always told her to do: chase her dreams. And Kat’s dreams were filled with shutter clicks and capturing moments in time, preserving them forever. Making the perfect cinnamon roll or serving coffee to locals and foliage chasing tourists was fine, but not for Kat. 

      As she approached the snow-dusted Welcome to Belbridge sign her hands tightened on the steering wheel. The town was positively bedecked in holiday cheer. Lights strung up everywhere, Christmas trees glittering in front windows, and a picturesque sprinkling of snow. It looked like a scene set for a Christmas card. Kat hated that she wanted to stop and snap a photo of it. She had rejected Christmas after Zach’s death, the whole month of December cast in shadows and jagged edges since he'd hit a patch of ice on a road he'd driven a million times before. It hardly seemed fair that you could know something so well and still have it betray you. Roads were a lot like people that way, she supposed.

      Kat parked in front of her childhood home and eyed the Christmas wreath on the front door like it might come to life and bite her. She didn't think the world had any business being so damn holly jolly. She didn't get out of the car until her phone rang, Dana’s smiling face lighting up her screen yet again.

      “I know you’re outside,” Dana said, by way of greeting. “Stop being a baby and get out of the car.”

      “I am not being a baby,” Kat said, affronted.

      “You’re being a huge baby. Come inside before I send Josh out to get you.”

      Scowling, Kat cut the engine and climbed out of the car, walking up to the front door and its homemade wreath with all the cheer of a woman sent to the gallows. She raised a hand to ring the bell but before she could, it swung open. Dana stood there in a bright green sweater and a reindeer antler headband nestled in her brown curls. Her necklace and earrings were silver snowflakes, and her nails were painted green and gold. She was Christmas personified. Her lips pulled up in that obnoxiously infectious grin.

      “Kat!” she exclaimed, as if she hadn't just been threatening her on the phone. She yanked Kat into a hug, freakishly strong in her holiday fueled affection. “It's so good to see you. You look amazing, how was the drive?”

      Dana didn't give Kat much chance to answer any of her rapid fire questions as she led her into the depths of the house. Kat followed dutifully behind her little sister, trailing her fingers over the familiar wallpaper. 

      “Kat’s here!” Dana announced, pulling her into the living room. Kat stood there in her dark coat, standing out in the sea of green and gold and red. Her family glowed in the light from the giant fireplace while she looked like the ghost of Christmas future come to terrify Scrooge into not being such a dick.

      “Um. Hi,” she said dumbly.

      “Kat, sweetie, it's wonderful to see you! It's been so long!” Aunt Charlize enveloped her in a hug and Kat was overwhelmed with the smell of gingerbread and Dior perfume. Charlize seemed to break the slight tension bubble that had formed when Kat stepped into the room. Her other aunts and uncles and handful of cousins all offered waves and hellos and a few more hugs. Dana’s boyfriend Josh gave her a warm smile. The two of them had been together since their sophomore year in high school.

       Kat was shuffled through the room on a tide of familial greetings until she found herself standing before her parents. She felt eighteen again, standing before them declaring that she wanted to be a photographer instead of being part of the family legacy. Her father had turned the color of a fresh beet at the notion of her running off to a big city to be a starving artist instead of embracing the stability their family had created. Her mother said she'd be home within a month, begging their forgiveness. The fight had been loud and angry, punctuated with harsh words. And Kat had never come home, until now.

      “Kathleen,” her mother said, taking her in. “We weren't sure if you were really going to come.”

      “Well…here I am,” Kat replied, wondering if her attempt at a smile looked real or if she just looked constipated. It was hard to tell exactly what Marian DeStefano was thinking. The woman had the best poker face in the world when it suited her. But where Marian could be a vault when she pleased, her husband was an open book. Kat saw remnants of hurt and anger on his face that mirrored her own, but there was warmth there too, and he pulled her into a hug. Kat was horrified to find herself feeling an urge to cry.

      “It's nice to have everyone home for the holiday,” he said. Kat felt her breath catch, throat burning. Not everyone. It would never be everyone again. She had said as much back then, screaming at them that it was wrong to put up lights and a tree and go on with celebrations when there was a Zach-shaped hole in their lives. But she held back from saying anything now. Dana’s eyes were flicking back and forth between them, and Kat didn't want to be the one to start a fight five minutes after walking in the door. 

      “It's good to see you guys,” she said instead. She thought Dana might have sighed with relief. Awkward hellos over, the household settled into easy chatter. Kat wandered the room looking at the dozens of pictures, memories settling over her like a heavy blanket. If she was the ghost of Christmas future, this house was filled with the ghost of Christmas past. She stopped in front of a family portrait, taken the year before Zach died. He was smiling and dressed in a nice outfit, while fifteen year old Kat had insisted on wearing all black. A little Dana was beaming with a smile that nearly took up her whole face. They were such a cliche; the golden eldest boy, the moody middle child, and the carefree baby of the family.

      Dana could get anyone wrapped around her finger within five minutes of knowing them. It was hard to tell Dana no. Disappointing her was like kicking a golden retriever; something only a true monster would do. Kat sighed. It was December 22, which meant she had to endure at least three days of family and festiveness. The giant tree in the front room looked like it could barely take the weight of all the ornaments hanging off of it, and the house smelled like Christmas cookies. It was like Santa Claus and his elves had a rager and barfed all over this place. But Kat stuffed down her jaded complaints and endured dinner with her family.

      She thought it was going okay until she said she should get going to book a room at the B&B, and quickly realized she'd said the wrong thing.

      “Why don't you stay here?” Marian frowned. “You can use your old room.”

       “I don't want to impose.”

       “This is your home, Kat.”

       “Is it really, though?” Kat asked. She immediately wished she could snatch the words back, but they hung in the air like a guillotine blade poised to drop.

        “I see,” Marian said tightly. “Well, if that's how you feel, then you can of course go. I hope you’ll at least show up at the Christmas Eve party at the restaurant.”

      “The ugly sweater party? You still do that?”

      “We still do a lot of things here,” Marian said. “You'd know if you'd ever bothered to come home.”

      “I didn't come home because I didn't think you'd want to see me, considering you practically disowned me when I left,” Kat ground out. 

      “We did no such thing. Don't be dramatic.”

      “I’m going to the B&B.” Kat stood, her face hot. Dana followed her down the hall.

       “Come on Kat, please don't go,” she said.

       “I knew this was a bad idea.” Kat shoved her arms into her coat sleeves.

        “You needed to come home,” Dana said, expression stern and at odds with that stupid reindeer headband. She grabbed Kat’s arm as she prepared to march outside.

        “Please come to the ugly sweater party,” she said, and the naked plea in her tone evaporated some of Kat’s anger. She sighed. “I'll be there,” she muttered. “But I don't have an ugly sweater.”

         “I have one for you.”

         “Of course you do.” Kat looked at her sister with fondness and exasperation, promising again that she'd be there. It was a tradition her parents had hosted for years. Christmas Eve brunch and a spirited ugly sweater contest. The only time they had ever skipped it was the year Zach died, because they had to make funeral preparations instead.

      After a night spent tossing and turning, Kat ventured out into the snowy wonderland of her hometown and wandered aimlessly. She saw everything in double, like a sequence of before and after shots. She rounded the corner onto Main. Old habits. She drew to a halt and stared at the restaurant across the street. Her grandfather had started the place, naming it Mabel’s in honor of her grandma. It was now a Belbridge institution. Kat pulled her gaze away, but did a double take as a familiar face walked out, shrugging into a winter coat.

     “Alex?” Kat only whispered his name but it was like he heard anyway, because he paused and looked up, catching her eye. He blinked in surprise, then smiled.

     “Kat! You're really here.” Alex jogged across the street to where she stood. Kat remembered him in his tux on prom night. His shoulders were broader now, his face in slight need of a shave. His eyebrows lifted and she realized she was staring.

      “I’m here,” she agreed. 

       “I wasn't sure if Dana was just messing with me when she said you were coming back.”

       “She strong-armed me into it.”

       “I’m glad.”

       Kat was suddenly a schoolgirl with a crush again, her cheeks heating.

       “You on your way to Mabel’s?” he asked and she quickly shook her head.

        “Want to come with me then? I promised Mrs. Vernicek I’d come fix her decorations. The Santa on her roof fell down.”

         “What a tragedy.”

          Alex had the same old pickup he'd driven in high school, a faded blue hunk of metal with a bench seat that he lovingly kept in running condition. After he’d rescued poor Santa and narrowly avoided sliding off the roof himself, he asked if Kat wanted to grab a drink. She planned on having a few sips of eggnog and reminiscing about old times, but the universe cared little for Kat’s plans. The eggnog was strong and in the morning she did not wake up in her room at the B&B.

      “Hell of a way to reminisce,” she muttered, her head swimming slightly.

       “Who needs reminiscing when you can just do a prom night reenactment,” Alex said. Kat smacked him in the face with a pillow.

       “God, is that the time?” she groaned. “I’m going to be late for the ugly sweater party.”

      “I’m going too. I'll give you a ride.”

      Kat was pulling her boots on when Alex stepped out of his room wearing a garish red and yellow sweater that had a plastic T-Rex head hanging off of it, over the words “Merry T-Rexmas.” She stared at him in abject horror.

      “What? Ugly is the goal,” he grinned. Kat grimaced at the thought of what Dana had picked for her. Kat only had one leg out of the truck when her sister accosted her.

      “I tried to bring you your sweater this morning but you weren't at the B&B,” Dana said. Her eyes scanned the truck and she seemed to recognize it, her gaze then traveling to Alex as he got out and waved. Kat wanted to disappear as Dana’s expression morphed into a knowing little sister smirk.

     “Oh. I see. You were spreading holiday cheer.”

      “Just give me my sweater,” Kat griped, snatching the thing out of Dana’s arms. She tugged it over her head and looked down to see the damage. It was tye-dye, with a sequined snowman flashing a peace sign.

       “This is a crime against humanity,” she said darkly. Dana grabbed pulled her inside. Kat was about to say she was only staying long enough to eat an omelet but the words died as she entered Mabel’s.

      Her first couple of years in New York had been rough. Sleeping on a friend’s couch, eating ramen noodles most nights. She'd taken pictures of everything, experimenting with light and angles. She sold some of her prints on Etsy and started a photography Instagram. She'd finally gotten to showcase some of her cityscape work at an exhibition and had some success. Her Instagram blew up, and she now had actual clients and her own website selling prints of her photos.

      Now, hanging on the walls of Mabel’s, were a collection of those photos. There were professional shots from her website, but there were others too. Photos she'd taken while still a teenager, on the tripod Zach had bought her. Displayed prominently over the counter was one from the day she'd opened it, when she made Zach and Dana pose with her in front of a pile of autumn leaves. Zach had tossed her into it right after, and she’d recruited Dana to help her retaliate. 

      “They've been following your work since I found your Instagram,” Dana explained. Kat just gaped, eyes stinging. Her parents were coming toward her, in matching hideous orange sweaters.

      “We wanted to show you how proud we are,” Marian said. “Dana suggested we put them up…is it alright?”

      Kat had never seen her parents nervous, and the sight of it now unraveled the knot of anger she'd been carrying.

      “I love it,” she said. She hugged her mom for the first time in years, their own Christmas miracle. Dana was grinning, and Alex was smiling too, standing there in his God-awful sweater. And there was Zach, smiling down at her from the photo she'd taken. Kat didn't expect to repair the cracks in her family’s foundation overnight, but as she savored this little moment, this snapshot in time, she figured it was a pretty good start.