Home for the Holidays by Brenda Novak

Two

As soon as Mack joined them, Anya nudged Natasha. “Like a bee to a flower,” she muttered.

Natasha gave her mother a dirty look. Why did Anya have to embarrass her like that?

“What’d she say?” Mack asked.

“Nothing,” Natasha replied. “My mom was just trying to be funny.”

“I said it’s cold tonight.” Anya’s grin made it clear she hadn’t said that at all.

Mack glanced between them, but was wise enough not to press the issue.

“Where’re Dylan and the others going?” Natasha asked, eager to take the conversation in a more stable direction.

“They’re hungry and the Rotary Club’s selling pulled pork sandwiches.”

Anya slipped her arm through his as they joined the flow of people in the street. Sometimes she tried to act like Mack’s stepmother, even though he was an adult when she’d married his father. Other times she tried to act like a sister or cousin or something, since she was actually between Aaron and Rod in age, much younger than J.T. And sometimes, especially if she was drunk or high, she flirted with them shamelessly, making it obvious that she’d be willing to become a lot more, which had to make them uncomfortable. It certainly humiliated Natasha. “You didn’t want one?”

He didn’t pull away from Anya, but Natasha couldn’t help wondering if he wished he could. “I’ve already eaten.”

So was it merely for practical reasons that he’d joined them? Because he didn’t want to wait in a long line?

Natasha could never quite decide if she meant as much to him as it occasionally seemed. That was something she’d struggled with from the beginning.

Either way, they’d spent so much time together before she left for college that it would’ve been far more unusual if he’d ignored her. She was just glad he was willing to suffer her mother’s company in order to be with her again, especially since she had to go back to LA tomorrow. The hospital where she worked was understaffed, and she lived on a shoestring budget, so she needed to earn as much as she could.

“Want some kettle corn?” She offered him the bag and he took it and scooped out a large handful.

“Have you seen the photo booth?” he asked as he popped a few kernels into his mouth.

“Not yet. Where is it?”

“Down by the Christmas tree in the park. They’re doing those old-time photos again, like the one we took your sophomore year.”

She’d kept that picture on her dresser until she’d moved out. It was still one of her favorites. In it, she was dressed as a barmaid and sat on a barrel, her hair twisted up and decorated with a long feather plume, while Mack stood behind her wearing a sheriff’s star on a leather vest and a fake handlebar mustache that didn’t quite match his dark hair. Grady and Rod had posed on either side of them dressed like regular cowboys drinking a bottle of whiskey. She laughed whenever she looked at the tough expression on Mack’s face in that photograph. She knew there were people who had seen that expression when he wasn’t joking. But he’d always been gentle with her, had gone above and beyond to keep her safe and happy.

He was even the one who’d tried to have “the talk” with her. She’d never forget the night she announced that she’d been invited to homecoming and would likely be out all night. After the others had gone to bed, he’d knocked on her door and hemmed and hawed about school and the auto body shop and anything else he could think of before he managed to work up to the topic he’d come to address.

“I want you to know that...that this boy you’re going out with might try to... Well, boys your age are just beginning to feel...” At that point, he’d shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat before starting over. “What I’m trying to say is that this boy might attempt to do something you may or may not want him to do.”

“Like what?” She’d known exactly where he was going with this. A girl couldn’t grow up with a mother like Anya without learning a fair bit about physical intimacy. She’d seen things that would shock most adults—not the best example for a child to have when it came to sexuality, which was obviously what he was trying to rectify.

She’d blinked at him, keeping her eyes wide and innocent while awaiting his answer, and that was when he’d caught on that she found the conversation—and his attempt to have it—funny. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he’d grumbled with a scowl.

“Sex.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me to sleep with Jason.”

“I want you to think about it, be prepared, be smart.”

“What’s to think about?” she’d asked.

His eyebrows had shot up at this response. “What do you mean? There’s a lot to think about. You’re only sixteen. It would be much better if you waited until you were older.”

“Because you want to have sex with me.”

His face had gone beet red. Instead of committing himself one way or the other, however, he’d said, “Because sex is much better when you’re in love. And there are other things to consider—like venereal disease, pregnancy, your reputation.”

“My reputation?”

“Yes. Gossip could make you a pariah at school.”

She’d shrugged. “With a mom like mine, I’m already a pariah at school. I can’t believe I even got asked to this stupid dance.”

“I’m glad you did—and that you’re going. I want you to enjoy it.” He’d worried about her when the other kids were being unkind.

“Just don’t have sex,” she’d volunteered, summing it all up.

He’d sighed as he shoved a hand through his hair, which had been longer in those days than it was now. “Basically. But if you’re not going to listen to me, you need to make sure he wears a condom, at least.”

“Should I take one in my purse?” She’d known he’d hate the idea of her carrying around a condom, but she was always needling him, trying to figure out if he wanted her the same way she wanted him. He pretended he didn’t, but she could feel the powerful attraction between them. Maybe she was young and naive, but she couldn’t be wrong about that. Or...could she?

“Just...be careful, okay?” he’d said.

“Do you want to give me a condom?” she’d pressed.

He’d waved her off. “Forget I said anything,” he’d replied in exasperation and went out and shut the door.

She still chuckled whenever she thought about that encounter. She hadn’t had a mother who was paying any attention to her, and she’d never had a father, so he’d stepped in to fill whatever roles he could. He’d even taken her to the store to buy her a new dress for the dance so she wouldn’t have to be so different, no less than anyone else, but finding one he considered modest enough hadn’t been easy.

“Should we get another picture?” she asked as he returned the kettle corn.

“I think you should,” Anya piped up. “Wait until Mack sees how well you fill out that waitress costume now.”

“Mom!” Natasha gasped.

“What?” Her mother let go of Mack to be able to spread her hands in an innocent gesture. “Look at that curvy body of yours. You’re gorgeous! I’m sure he’s noticed.”

A muscle moved in Mack’s cheek. “I’d be happy to get another picture,” he said, as if that last exchange had never taken place, and they walked past the carolers again to reach the booth that said McGee’s Old-Time Photos.