27
London
Saying goodbye to Chelsea, even for a week, was like ripping out my soul, but she said she has loads of plans with friends to keep her busy.
We held our own Christmas celebration last night after my show complete with candlelight and holiday music. She brought oyster stew, a disgusting tradition her mother passed down to her, and I brought fruitcake, an equally awful family habit I blame on Gran.
Chelsea was floored when I handed her the light blue Tiffany’s box and seemed delighted by the silver unicorn necklace inside.
“How did you know?” she dangled the delicate piece from her fingers.
“You like unicorns?”
“Since I was little. I was obsessed with them. Here.” She handed me the necklace and brushed her hair aside.
“Well, this one is because you are beautiful, smart and feisty; a rare find, like the magical unicorn.” I clasped the delicate chain around her neck, thinking of Max’s comment of how difficult it is to hold onto a unicorn.
“I love it,” she said after admiring it in the mirror.
Chelsea presented me with a beautifully wrapped box with a gold bow, biting her lip nervously. I couldn’t imagine what it was. When I tore off the foil wrapping, I discovered a brown leather messenger bag.
“For your auditions... sorry, I mean meetings,” she teased.
The soft leather held my monogram. Inside she’d included a folder containing a dozen of my head shots.
“I put everything in there that I thought you’d need. That way you won’t have to be stressed when you’re trying to get out the door.”
“That’s for your scripts and music,” she explained of another folder. “And I put in those special candies that help your throat, a water bottle, tissues, a toothbrush, and a mirror to make sure you don’t have any spinach stuck in your teeth from your smoothie.”
Each pocket contained every possible item I’ve wished for when out on an audition. She thought of everything, and the leather bag is exactly what I would have picked had I thought about it.
And now she’s across the pond, and I’m wheels down at Heathrow, reverting into a giddy boy peeking out the window. When I spot my mum, she’s a tad grayer and Dad’s a bit heavier than when I saw them on the opening night of Crossing Lines. With a grin and a wave, I’m swept into Mum’s arms and pounded heavily on the back by Dad.
The moment we reach home, Mum stuffs me with homemade biscuits. The tree is in the same spot in front of the picture window as when I was a kid, filling the room with the lovely scent of pine. While the ornaments are mostly new, I detect a few old ones from my childhood tucked within the boughs. My eyes are heavy and I yawn from more than twenty-four hours without sleep.
“Tom, you’re dead on your feet. Go lie down. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up later,” Mum says.
With one more hug, I stumble happily to my old room. It’s been transformed into a craft room where Mum’s latest craze appears to be beadwork. There are stacks of clear trays with every size and color of bead imaginable. There are racks of finished necklaces, bracelets and earrings, making the room look more like my sister’s instead of mine.
My bed’s still here albeit covered with a floral bedspread and flouncy pillow shams, which I toss in the corner. I kick off my shoes, pull the blinds, and climb under the comforter to crash until the rest of the family invades.
Much later, I wake to a tiny hand slapping my face. The hand then grabs a fistful of hair and yanks.
“Ow!” I open my eyes and stare into round blue eyes. “Who’s this?” I smile, lean on my elbow, and take my niece’s little hand in mine. She grips my index finger and gahs. Her dark hair sticks straight up like a kewpie doll.
My sister, Hannah pops up from the side of the bed along with my three-year-old nephew, Jasper. His eyes are nearly as round as his sisters. He sizes me up.
“Bella, meet your Uncle Tom.” Bella bats her baby blues and gurgles, revealing two tiny teeth.
“Hello, Bella, aren’t you the little beauty.” She smells of baby powder and innocence. I shift my attention to my nephew. “Hello, mate. Do you remember me?”
He nods eagerly. I try to Skype with my sister to catch up and see how the kids are growing, and selfishly so they’ll know who I am. Jasper was only a year and a half last time I was home.
“Well, get on up here.” I slide over to give him room.
Hannah lifts him and he scrambles onto the bed smelling of apple juice and fudge. “You’ve grown so big.” He smiles, still too shy to speak. “Oh my gosh. I’ve got something in my pocket. What is it?”
Jasper watches, fascinated, as I dig deep into my pocket.
“Oh no! It’s a tickle bug!” I proceed to tickle Jasper and he squeals with innocent laughter.
Hannah scoops Bella out of the way as Jasper and I roll on the bed and I toss him in the air.
“I can see you’re the last person I’ll ask to put him to bed,” she complains with a joyful smile.
In the kitchen, with Jasper under my arm like a squirming sack of potatoes, I find Hannah’s husband, George, my brother Ben, and his wife Katie have all arrived. She’s pleasantly pregnant with their first.
“Look what the cat dragged in. About time you showed your ugly mug around here,” Ben says with a slap on my back. There are jovial hugs all around.
“Mum says you have a girlfriend,” Hannah says with Bella perched on her hip, chewing on her tiny fist.
“No way,” the over educated Ben says. “Tom fancies a girl? It must be a joke.”
I help myself to a beer from the fridge. “Just because I’ve never mentioned any women before, doesn’t mean they haven’t existed.”
“Yeah. In your dreams,” he grins, stealing my beer.
“Just ask Mum.” Hannah wipes drool from Bella’s chin.
“Yes, and she sounds lovely.”
Ben takes a swig of my beer. “Mum’s just covering for you. She can’t bare that you’re gay.”
I fetch another beer, twist the top off, and toss it into the corner trash.
“Come on Tom, give us the dirt,” my brother-in-law says.
And so I pull out my phone and bring up pictures of Chelsea. Looking at her thick mane of hair and the curve of her lips showing off her smile drives home how far apart we are.
Hannah elbows me in the ribs. “Wow, Tommy. Look at you, all gooey-faced over a picture. Never seen that before.”
“Let’s see.” Ben gives a low whistle. “What’s a looker like her doing with a mutt like you?”
“Excellent question,” I grin proudly, passing my phone around to show off Chelsea.
After a casual dinner, we hang out around the tree with the lights twinkling and music playing, catching up on everyone’s lives. Jasper has conked out and lays limp in his father’s arms.
“You have a beautiful family,” I tell Hannah, walking with her out to the car as she and George strap the kids into their car seats.
“Jasper adores you.” She kisses his pudgy cheek.
“He’s terrific.” I hate that I’m not here to watch him grow up, but then think of Chelsea and how much I miss being away from her.
After everyone’s gone home, I call her. With the time difference it’s early evening, but she doesn’t pick up. After spending the last month together, being apart is hell.
“Hey, Gran.” I give her a gentle hug and kiss on the cheek when we arrive Christmas Eve. She’s shorter, shrinking with age, but still smells of rose petals and tea.
“Look at you, Tom. So grown up and handsome.” She pats my face as if making sure I’m real, then leads me into her sitting room, ignoring the houseful of guests.
“Sorry I haven’t come home sooner,” I say realizing how fast she’s aging.
“Nonsense. You’ve been following your dreams, what could be more important than that?”
“There is family,” I say feeling guilty for neglecting mine, but Gran was the one who never questioned my desperate need to act. While Mum and Dad fretted I’d be an uneducated, unemployed flop, Gran always encouraged me to follow my dreams.
“Very true, and you’re here. What’s this I hear about a young lady?”
I smile. “Yes. Chelsea. She’s wonderful.”
Gran listens with apt attention as I tell her about how Chelsea and I met, that she’s spunky, always happy and sees the good in everything. Gran coos when I show her pictures.
“And you love her?” Her wizened old eyes settle on me.
“With all my heart.”
Gran’s eyes twinkle. “How is she in the sack?”
“Gran!” I feign shock. “A gentleman never tells.”
Satisfied, she pats my hand. “It’s certainly taken you long enough.”
“Trust me, she’s worth the wait.”
“In that case, I expect you’ll be wanting a certain trinket to take back to New York with you.”
“Yes, but only if you’re sure you want to part with it.”
She gets up and goes to her top dresser drawer. “I’m honored for you to have it. Your grandfather would be pleased.” She digs around a bit. “Ah, here it is.”