We have barricaded ourselves in the library to wrap presents and it isn't pretty.
I'm a professional. Straight edges, crisp folds, minimal use of tape.
Ben is a savage. Balls each present up in fifty yards of wrapping paper until it's crinkly and looks like the day after Christmas, holds it outstretched in one hand, runs packing tape around the whole thing three or four times and says, Looks good to me, and puts it in a pile on the floor.
Do you need more tags?
I look up and Ben is sticking labels on his tongue and eating them. Tags? For what?
To put the recipient's name on each present.
Oh..well, fuck. I don't know what's for who. You can't tell what's in them now.
I nod helplessly and look at Lochlan. He's found an old Douglas Preston/Lincoln Child hardcover that he hasn't read so he's reading it. Right now. Stretched out on his back on the floor. There are two small neatly wrapped presents beside him. We've been in here for two hours.
You all done?
Huh?
Nothing. How's the book?
It's really good. Don't know how I missed this one!
I sigh inwardly. I love Christmas but the work and the sudden ability of everyone to turn into hapless children when it comes to getting ready for it is frustrating and threatens whatever Christmas spirit I have been trying to conjure for days now.
I'll be back in a minute. I get up and leave the room, closing the door firmly behind me. I walk and walk until I'm on the beach and it's low tide so I sit on the log all the way down at the end and wonder if we should just go back to donating our gift money to Greenpeace. Or maybe just stop celebrating Christmas altogether but as the former wife of a minister that thought makes me sad.
Which is weird because I'm not particularly religious or even all that spiritual anymore. I'm just selfish and sad and far too busy to be all meta and navel-gazing like I am now. I square my shoulders and march back across the rocks and up the hill to the house, planning to kick ass and take names but when I go in everything is cleaned up and put back in the cupboard and Ben and Lochlan are nowhere to be found.
They went for lunch, Duncan tells me helpfully through a mouthful of his own food as he sits and reads in the kitchen. They didn't think you'd be back up so soon. Usually you stay down there for hours.
And you guys take each other on dates while I'm down there?
Only if someone's watching you. And someone's definitely watching you today.
He nods toward the window at the boathouse and realize I'm going to have to make my excuses in person for yesterday. I didn't show. I never agreed to anything and I failed to respond to the Devil when directly ordered to. As I said, he doesn't like it when I don't react.
Are you going to be here for a little bit?
Duncan smiles ruefully at me. Bridget, you need to take care of this. You can't run out, provoke the dog and come running back to hide behind me. Sooner or later the dog will chase you all the way back and bite, oh, nevermind. Here he comes now. Stay or go?
Stay. Please!
Caleb comes in the side door and up the steps into the kitchen. He nods. Duncan.
Cale. Duncan nods back and takes a sip of his juice. Caleb stares at him and realizes he's not going to afford us any privacy on purpose. Bridget. I was expecting you. Are you otherwise engaged?
I'm wrapping presents with Ben and Loch.
And yet I saw them leave an hour ago.
It's very intensive work. We need breaks.
Right so then it's a good time.
Duncan snorts. I'm right here, Dude. She's not going anywhere.
Caleb thinks about this for a minute and walks around to my free side, the other side from where Duncan sits and leans in to my ear. Tonight you should come down and go over our notes. I wouldn't put it off much longer.
Duncan whistles and looks up at the ceiling. I see his hands clench.
I'll check with Ben.
Bring him along. We'll make it a nightcap.
I said I'll see. I remind him and he hesitates for only a minute before turning to leave. He turns back and tells Duncan that I don't need a babysitter and that Duncan isn't needed here and Duncan laughs and asks Caleb if he is new. That I definitely need to be watched and cared for a little better than Caleb is capable of and unless he wants to be wrapped like a fucking present he should probably leave.
Caleb takes my elbow and half-pulls me with him to the door. Duncan is tense like a spring on his seat. He can be up and over to us in a heartbeat. Caleb leans down to my ear just as he lets go. You should tell your dog his bark isn't much to worry about.
Funny, he said pretty much the same thing about you.
