Chapter 2
At the hotel, I turned my phone off completely.
Christmas morning, I woke without an alarm.
Made coffee.
Walked to the pool.
When I finally turned my phone on, there were dozens of missed calls.
Then Mom video-called.
I answered.
Her face filled the screen.
Behind her, one child was crying.
Two were arguing over a tablet.
Wrapping paper covered the floor.
Mom looked exhausted.
"You're really not coming?"
I turned the camera slightly.
Blue sky.
Palm trees.
My beach chair.
What I said next made her realize that the daughter who always said yes had finally meant no.
"I told you I was going."
Mom stared at the screen.
Behind her, the chaos continued.
Someone knocked over a cup.
A child screamed about a missing toy.
She looked less angry then.
More stunned.
As though the possibility that I might follow through on my own plans had never occurred to her.
The Call
"We can't manage all five."
I kept my voice calm.
"Then maybe that's something the children's parents should work out."
Her mouth tightened.
"This is selfish."
"No. This is a vacation I paid for and told you about weeks ago."
"You knew we were counting on you."
"You were counting on me saying yes without being asked. That's not the same thing."
For a long moment, she just stared.
Then my brother's voice came from somewhere off-screen.
"Is she seriously at a beach?"
Mom turned the phone.
My brother appeared, holding his daughter on his hip.
His face was red.
"You bailed on Christmas."
"I never agreed to babysit."
"Mom said you were handling it."
"Mom decided that. I didn't."
He looked at Mom.
She looked away.
My sister appeared next, her expression somewhere between disbelief and fury.
"Do you know how hard it is to manage kids during the holidays?"
"Yes. That's why I don't have any."
"We needed you."
"You needed a babysitter. You have five children between you. Maybe you should have arranged childcare before assuming I would cancel my plans."
My sister's mouth opened.
Then closed.
Mom took the phone back.
"When are you coming home?"
"December 27th."
"We'll talk then."
"There's nothing to talk about. I'm not apologizing for taking a vacation."
She ended the call.
I set my phone down.
For a moment, I just sat there.
Then I ordered another coffee and went back to my book.
Day Two
The next morning, I woke to seventeen text messages.
Most were from extended family members who had been brought into the situation.
My aunt wrote:
Your mother is very hurt. Family comes first.
My cousin:
I can't believe you abandoned everyone on Christmas.
One uncle:
This is not how we were raised.
I read them all.
Then I turned my phone off again.
I spent the day walking along the beach.
I had lunch at a small restaurant with outdoor seating.
I read three chapters of a novel I had been meaning to finish for months.
May you like
I did not think about wrapping paper or tantrums or whose child needed a nap.
For the first time in years, Christmas felt peaceful.
