Home for the Holidays

This story contains mature language and topics such as suicide and substance abuse.

  “Five…,” I whisper to myself. “The welcome mat. Mom’s Christmas reef. Mailbox. Uh…” I scan the perimeter. “A toolbox. Sophie’s tricycle.”

I think this is stupid, but Sharon, the counselor from the rehab center, says sometimes it takes a while to get used to healthy coping mechanisms and that I should still try to use them whenever I’m feeling anxious.

I take a deep breath and try to ignore my hands violently shaking at my sides.

“Four…” I rub my sweaty palms on the thighs of my jeans. “My pants.” I close my eyes. “I can feel my pants. And…the cold air. The ground beneath me.” A cold drop falls on my nose. I open my eyes and look up to see that it has started snowing. “Snow.” I bite my lip anxiously. Why isn’t it working?

“Okay. Three. I hear…cars driving by. And the neighbors' kids playing. And…” The front door swings open and nearly causes me to have a heart attack. 

“Mel!” Mom yells, pulling me in for a hug. “Oh God, look at you!” She holds her hand over her mouth and takes me in, tears welling in her eyes.  

“Hi, mom. It’s…good to see you.” 

“You’ve lost weight hun. What did they starve you in that place?”

“No, I just-”

“Jesus it’s freezing!” Mom takes the Santa hat off her head and plops it on mine. “Come on in! Your cousins are here. Everyone will be so excited to see you!”

I follow her inside and slide the hat up from over my eyes.

“Did you hear?” mom asks, shutting the door behind us. “Trudy got a new job. And your old friend Samantha, she got engaged! Get this, the guy is some rich model type. He’s like, Persian or something, I think! I was thinking maybe she could see if he had a brother for you. Or a cousin, or something.” Mom’s ramblings are drowned out by the sounds of children screaming and Christmas music blaring through the house. It’s only been five months, but it feels like five years. I couldn’t wait to leave the facility, but I didn’t expect to feel so out of place here.

Mom stares at me expectantly with her hand out.

“Huh?”

“Your coat,” she says. I slip it off and pass it to her as two of my little cousins, Riyah and Max come running around the corner giggling.

“Mellie!” Max shouts when he spots me. I crouch down and embrace the two of them.

“My goodness! You guys have grown so much! What have you been eating?”

“Vegetables!” Riyah yells as Max makes a disgusted face. I laugh until a third child comes running up. Riyah and Max continue their game of tag as I drop to my knees and my heart stops. My hands start shaking again. I grab at the fabric of my jeans. She smiles and runs to me.

“Mommy!” Sophie throws her arms around me and squeezes. I let out a deep breath and wipe a tear from my eye before we separate.

“Sophie baby! You look so pretty my love.” I straighten the large green bow atop her head and pinch her chubby cheeks. “Mommy missed you so much. You know that, right?” Sophie nods.

“How was your vacation?”

I look down and try to hide the guilt on my face from my daughter.

“Good. It was good, baby.”

“What the fuck?”

I look up to see my older sister standing hands on hips, glaring at me. Then at mom. Then at me again.

“Why don’t you go play with your cousins, okay?” I tell Sophie.

“Okay!” She runs off.

I take a deep breath and stand up to face Trudy. I knew coming home would be tough, but I was hoping since I held up my end of the bargain, my sister wouldn’t still be as angry as the night I left. I guess I was wrong.

“Hi, Trudy.”

“No,” Trudy says sternly, holding her pointer finger up to me. “What the fuck mom?”

“Hey!” mom replies. “Watch your tone.”

“What is she doing here?”

Mom shoots me a sympathetic look before addressing Trudy.

“Now Trudy, I know Melinda has done some hurtful things but -”

“Hurtful things?” Trudy breaks out into laughter. “Hurtful things. Huh. No, mom. ‘Hurtful’ is calling me fat or crashing my car. She held a knife up to you for drug money. In front of her god damn daughter!”

“I - I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t myself that night, I…I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? To who? Mom? Your kid? Or is she my kid? I genuinely can’t tell anymore. You know you’ve got some damn nerve coming back here?”

“That’s enough!” mom yells. “Trudy, your sister has apologized, and you are the one that told her to get help if she ever wanted to be a part of the family again. Well, she got help. Isn’t that what you wanted? She’s sober now. Right?” Mom and Trudy’s eyes bore into me awaiting confirmation. My eyes dart between them trying to find a way out of answering the question.

“Y-yes,” I finally say. “Yeah. Five months.”

“Exactly,” mom says.

“Hey!” a familiar voice calls. “Mel’s back!” Uncle Mitch gives me a hug and pulls the hat off my head to rustle my hair. “How was uh…” He leans in close and whispers. “Rehab?”

“Hey Uncle Mitch. Rehab was cool. I mean like, it was fine.”

“Is that Melinda?” Aunt Lydia joins the crowd of family members staring at me like a zoo animal. “It is! How are you Mellie? How was the uh…”

“Alright alright,” mom says, saving me from another round of questions about my time away. “It’s already seven and I didn’t spend all day over the stove to serve cold food. We can all catch up at the dinner table.”

The tension in the air thickens as everyone stands in silence, waiting for Trudy to either release the deadly hold her eyes have on mine or attack me. For what feels like several minutes, she holds still like an angry statue. Not even mom dares to say a peep or 

move a muscle until Trudy finally sighs and turns towards the dining room.

Mom calls the kids for dinner while the rest of the adults follow Trudy. I hang back for a moment and take a deep breath.

“Five…The lamp by the couch. Four…Oh fuck this.” I hurry down the hall to the bathroom and lock the door behind me. Then I turn the faucet on and take the little bag of pills out of my pocket. Before even thinking, I swallow two of the pills.

I don’t know what made me think I could handle this whole thing sober. Aside from the entire family looking at me like an alien, Trudy is so ticked off she might actually punch me in the face - and I wouldn’t blame her - I just rather be high on oxy when it happens.

Trudy practically raised me when she should've been doing normal teenager stuff because mom fell apart after dad died. She was twelve when it happened. I was only two, so I don’t remember him, but there are pictures of him around the house and we have celebrated every single one of his birthdays.

Trudy always tries to stop it.

A few days before dad’s birthday she tells mom that maybe we should skip it this year. Mom swears she can handle it and says we have to keep dad’s memory alive because he’s still a part of the family. So, she buys a cake, gets some candles and puts his picture up. We all sing happy birthday to the gold urn containing his ashes and mom breaks down crying in Trudy’s arms asking why dad left her without so much as a note and calls him all the names in the book. Then she locks herself in her bedroom for days before coming out and acting like nothing happened. And then next year, we do it all over again.

I jump at the sound of a loud knock at the door.

“Mel?” Mom calls from the other side. “Are you okay in there?”

I shut the water off and quickly open the door before mom gets suspicious.

“Hey.”

“You alright sweetie?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I smile just to really sell it. “Starving, though.”

I follow mom’s lead and take my seat at the table in between her and Uncle Mitch. Sophie smiles across from me.

“I can fix your plate Soph,” I say, reaching for the spoon in the bowl of macaroni and cheese.

“She doesn’t eat dairy,” Trudy interjects.

“Since when?”

“Since we took her to the doctor four months ago and found out she’s lactose intolerant.” Trudy grabs Sophie’s plate and fills it with chicken, rice and vegetables. Sophie looks away sheepishly as I plop a spoon of mac and cheese onto my own plate.

As conversation breaks out and dinner goes on, I actually start to have a good time. It’s nice to be around family again - surrounded by Uncle Mitch’s corny jokes and Max’s celebrity impersonations. Even mom’s endless tangents about her new couch cushions and knitting projects are quite enjoyable. No one asks me any more questions about rehab, or about what I want to do with my life next and I’m grateful for that. Because the truth is that I have no idea. I’m twenty-one years old and I have absolutely no idea what I want to do with my life. Actually, I do know. Nothing. I don’t want to do anything but get to know my daughter. I might have only been away for five months, but the truth is I haven’t been much of a mother since she was born. I was sixteen, and didn’t know what I was doing, but it’s no excuse. I’m just glad I have the chance to fix our relationship now, before it’s too late. Before she’s a teenager and so tired of my bullshit she wants nothing to do with me. 

“Damn it,” Trudy says, looking down at her shirt stained with red drops of wine. She gets up and goes down the hall to get cleaned up. 

As the chatter amongst the table continues, I devour my plate of food at an alarming rate.

“Woah woah woah,” Uncle Mitch says, holding his arms up. “Slow down Mel! The food isn't going anywhere!” I laugh so hard I snort and then everyone else at the table laughs. “It’s really good to have you here, Mel,” Uncle Mitch says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “And it’s…good to see you smiling.”

“Yeah,” mom says. “We’re all really proud of you Mel.” She gives me a hug and I sink into her arms. For a moment I feel elated hearing those words. Then I remember that she has nothing to be proud of.

“Are you serious?” We all turn to see Mel standing at the end of the hallway a few feet away. “Is nobody going to say it?” She looks around at the table full of confused faces and stretches her arm towards my direction. “She’s high right now!” 

My eyes widen and the air feels tense again. I try to hide my panic as everyone looks at me.

“N-no!” I blurt out. I look directly at Trudy and narrow my brows. “I am not.”

“Oh really?” Trudy asks, crossing her arms.

“Yeah,” I reply with a sharp tone. I am so sick and tired of Trudy’s holier than thou attitude. Here we all are having a good time and she has to come in and ruin it! I don’t even think she cares if I’m high or not. She just wants Sophie all to herself because she can’t have kids of her own. That’s why she had me sent away. Not because she cares about me or mom or Sophie. It’s because she’s selfish. Well, I’m not going to let her take me away from my family - from Sophie - again!

I stand up and meet Trudy face to face.

“Look, Trudy. I know I messed up before and I am trying every day to make up for it but I’m not going to sit here and be accused of doing drugs after I just spent five months getting sober! Do you know what withdrawal was like? It was hell, Trudy! I went through hell to make things right and I don’t need you throwing the past in my face every five seconds!”

The room is silent.

Trudy shakes her head. She looks off to the side and bites her lip. For the first time in my entire life, I see a small tear roll down my big sister’s cheek. She makes eye contact with me and holds her arm up, the little bag of pills in her hand.

“Then what’s this Mel?”

It feels like an anchor drops in my stomach when I realize the gravity of the mistake I have made. I look back at the table. Mom’s face has lost all of its color and Sophie looks confused.

“That’s…no, that’s not mine.”

“Melinda…” mom starts.

“No mom,” Trudy starts. “I told you she should have never come back here!” She storms down the hall again.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m getting rid of this shit!”

“No, Trudy don’t!” I follow her to the bathroom.

“If it’s not yours then why the hell do you care?” She opens the toilet lid and holds the bag over the bowl.

“Okay, okay! Damn it, Trudy! It’s mine. But I didn’t take any. I was thinking about taking one, but I didn’t!”

“Great! Since you’re not gonna take any, I’ll flush them.” She drops the bag in the bowl and reaches for the toilet handle.

“No!” I yell and lunge at her full force, sending us both into the bathtub. I land on top of Trudy and quickly stand up and fish the bag out of the bowl. Trudy pulls me back into the tub and the two of us wrestle for the bag. Just like when we were younger, Trudy is bigger and stronger and is able to pin me down by straddling me with her thighs. She uses one hand to hold my chest down with all her might as I claw at her other hand that’s reaching for the bowl. She finally gains enough reach to get it in there and flush before I’m able to stop her.

“No!” I scream, breaking down into tears as Trudy finally gets off of me and out of the tub. I lay on my back for a while, sobbing while looking at the ceiling. Trudy puts the toilet lid down and sits down hunched over with her forehead in her palm, catching her breath.

“What’s going on?” My crying stops the moment I hear Sophie’s little voice and I instantly feel an unbearable pang of guilt in my chest. I wipe my eyes and sit up. Uncle Mitch, Aunt Lydia and mom quickly follow behind Sophie, their faces covered in horror and shock when they realize what’s happened.

“Sophie, sweetie, I -”

“No!” Trudy yells. “Do not talk to my-,” Trudy grits her teeth and breathes deeply. She balls her fists and releases them a few seconds later. “Come on Sophie,” she says, walking away. “It’s time for bed.”

“But-”

“I said bedtime!”

Sophie tears her gaze from me and leaves the bathroom with Trudy. I turn to mom who is staring off into space with dead eyes, the way she always looks after dad’s birthday celebrations.

“Mom, I am so sorry. I’ll go back to rehab. I promise.” I climb out of the tub. “I’ll get help. I just need to talk to Sophie. Just let me talk to Sophie and then-”

“Get out,” mom says, quietly. 

“What? Mom, please! I just need to-”

“Go!” Mom screams the word at me with all the strain in her lungs and then bursts into tears. Aunt Lydia comforts her as Uncle Mitch suggests that I just go because I’ve already done enough damage.

When I leave, I go to the only other place that I can - the only other place where someone might let me sleep in a warm bed tonight.

“Jesus,” Ron says as soon as he opens the door. “You look like hell. What are you doing here?” I wipe a tear from my eye and sniffle while rubbing my arms in an effort to warm up. I left mom’s without my coat and Ron’s place was a ten-minute walk. 

“I need a place to stay for the night.”

“No.”

“Seriously Ron? We have a kid together.”

“So? I told you I didn’t want it. And last time I checked you broke up with me.”

“Ron, it’s Christmas. Please.”

“Are we gonna have sex?”

“What? No!” Ron starts to close the door. I put my arm out to hold it open.

“Wait,” I say. “If you let me stay the night and give me some drugs…I’ll sleep with you.” He opens the door.

I plop down on his tattered couch as he hands me a joint and a lighter.

“There’s fentanyl in it,” he says. “It’s all I have. Shit’s cheaper that way.”

“Whatever.” I light up and sink into the couch, the tension in my mind and body easing with every inhale. Before I know it, I’m on a completely different planet. A planet where my dad never died, and mom never lost her shit. On this planet, I never got pregnant by a dumb frat boy at sixteen and I never let him convince me to try drugs. I never stole from the people I love and robbed my daughter of having a good life. 

On this planet, I never existed.