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My Husband Got My Best Friend Pregnant — My Mom Invited Her To Christmas Instead Of Me — Transcript

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0:00My husband got my best friend pregnant,
0:02and my mom invited her to Christmas
0:04instead of me. She came all the way to
0:06my house to tell me in person. She
0:08handed me my Christmas stocking from her
0:10mantle, folded inside a Walmart bag and
0:13said, Mallory needs family this year
0:15more than you do, Annie. She had known
0:18for nine weeks. Then she asked me to
0:20sign my best friend a new three-year
0:22lease on my late grandfather's house at
0:24the same rent for the baby. What neither
0:27of them knew was that my best friend's
0:28rent had been paid every month that year
0:31with my own money. My name is Annika
0:33Hollis. I was 34 that winter, living in
0:36the Brookside neighborhood of Tulsa,
0:39Oklahoma, and I was the medical director
0:41of an emergency animal hospital in
0:43midtown. 12-hour shifts, hidden runs,
0:47dogs that ate grapes, cats that ate
0:49things cats should never eat. My job is
0:52to stay calm while everyone around me is
0:54screaming and to know exactly how many
0:56milligrams of everything a 40-lb dog can
0:59survive. I'm good at it. I'm good at
1:01numbers when there's a life on the other
1:03end of them. I grew up in Broken Arrow,
1:06the only child of Diane and Russ Hollis.
1:08My father sold commercial roofing. My
1:11mother taught second grade for 30 years
1:13and was the kind of woman every other
1:15mother in the neighborhood called first.
1:17She was warm with everyone. She was
1:19warmest with Mallory. Mallory Quinn
1:21moved onto our street when we were nine.
1:24She had red hair, a lisp, and a mother
1:26who was already sick. We were best
1:28friends by the end of fourth grade. When
1:31we were 12, her mother died of ovarian
1:33cancer on a Tuesday in April. Mallory's
1:36father was a long-haul trucker who was
1:38gone three weeks a month, so my mother
1:40took her in. Mallory slept at our house
1:43more nights than she slept at hers. My
1:45mother gave her my room because it had
1:47the bigger window and moved me to the
1:49sewing room with the fold-out couch.
1:52When I cried about it, she knelt down
1:53and held my face and said, Mallory
1:56doesn't have a mother anymore, Annie.
1:58You've always been fine on your
2:00I was twelve. I believed her. I decided
2:03being fine on my own was the best thing
2:05I could be. Kept being true. My mother
2:08sewed Mallory's prom dress by hand and
2:10bought mine off a clearance rack. She
2:12drove three hours to Mallory's
2:13cosmetology graduation in Oklahoma City.
2:17She missed my white coat ceremony at vet
2:19school in Stillwater because Mallory had
2:21a breakup and needed her. You
2:23understand, she said. You always do. And
2:27the worst part is that Mallory was worth
2:28loving. When I failed my first anatomy
2:31exam in vet school, she drove up to
2:33Stillwater at midnight with a pan of her
2:35mother's chicken spaghetti and sat with
2:37me on the floor of my apartment until
2:39three in the morning, quizzing me on the
2:41bones of a horse's leg. She didn't know
2:43a single answer. She just read them off
2:45the cards and said, Wow, that's
2:47disgusting. After everyone, I passed the
2:50next exam. I never forgot it. The only
2:54person in my family who never made me
2:56feel second was my grandfather. Ray
2:58Albright was my mother's father, a
3:00retired lineman for the power company
3:02who had spent 40 years climbing poles in
3:04ice storms so other people's houses
3:06stayed warm. He lived in a small white
3:09bungalow in the Pearl district with a
3:10pecan tree in the front yard, so big it
3:13shaded the whole roof. Every year on
3:15December 1st, he wrapped that tree in
3:17600 Christmas lights. When I was seven,
3:20he let me plug them in. He stood on the
3:22porch with his hands in his pockets and
3:24said, Somebody's got to keep the lights
3:26on, Annie. After that, I came every
3:29December 1st. Through high school, vet
3:31school, and residency, I never missed
3:33one. I visited him every Sunday
3:35afternoon too for 11 years and brought
3:38him coffee from the gas station because
3:39he said the fancy kind tasted like a
3:41candle. My mother came twice a year.
3:44When he died three years ago, he left
3:46the bungalow to me, not to my mother, to
3:49me. There was a single handwritten line
3:52in the will to Annie who came every
3:54Sunday. There was a letter folded into
3:56the back of it too in his shaky
3:59lineman's capitals. I read it once in
4:01the lawyer's office and put it away. I
4:04couldn't read it twice. My mother didn'
4:06speak to me for a month. Then she
4:08decided it was just one of those things
4:10and never mentioned it again. I should
4:12have known that meant she was still
4:13thinking about it. I met Tobias Keller
4:16at a friend's wedding when I was 28. He
4:19was the band director at a middle school
4:21in Jenks, and he was playing trumpet in
4:23the wedding band because the regular
4:24trumpet player had the flu.
4:27He got a cramp in his lip halfway
4:28through the reception, came over to my
4:31table and asked if anyone had ice. I
4:34gave him the ice from my drink. He
4:36played the last set with my lime still
4:38in his pocket. Malory was my maid of
4:41honor. She did my hair. She cried before
4:44I did. My mother adored Tobias. He was
4:47funny and gentle, and he played
4:48Christmas carols on the trumpet at her
4:50church every December. You finally found
4:53a man who can keep up with you, she told
4:55me. What she meant was that she finally
4:57had someone who would answer the phone.
4:59Tobias and I bought a brick house in
5:01Brookside together. I worked 12-hour
5:04shifts, he worked school hours, and we
5:06met in the middle on Sundays. We were
5:08saving for a baby. We had a spreadsheet
5:10for it on the refrigerator. It wasn't
5:13perfect. It was ours. Two years ago,
5:16Malory's marriage fell apart. Her
5:18husband left her for a receptionist and
5:20kept the house. Malory called me sobbing
5:23from her car in a Target parking lot.
5:25She had nowhere to go. My grandfather's
5:28bungalow had been sitting empty for a
5:30year while I tried to decide what to do
5:32with it. Houses like that rented for
5:34$1,450
5:36a month in the Pearl District. I told
5:38Malory she could have it for 700. Are
5:41you sure? she asked. Your family, I
5:44said, you've always been family. Tobias
5:47offered to handle the rental, collecting
5:49the rent, fixing the water heater,
5:52mowing the lawn when Malory couldn't.
5:54You worked 12-hour shifts, he said. You
5:57don't need one more thing. I said yes
5:59because he was right and because I loved
6:01him for offering. Every month, $700
6:05appeared in the separate account I kept
6:07for the bungalow's taxes and insurance.
6:09The transfer was labeled rent M.
6:12Tobias said Mallory paid him on Venmo
6:14and he moved it over. I never checked
6:16where it came from. Why would I? It was
6:19my best friend and my husband. That was
6:21the whole point of trusting people. I
6:23should tell you about the lights. The
6:25December after my grandfather died, I'd
6:28lit the pecan tree by myself in front of
6:30an empty house, then packed the lights
6:32in a box in his garage for the next
6:34year. Last December, for the first time
6:37in 30 years, the pecan tree in front of
6:39Grandpa's house was dark. Tobias said
6:42he'd get to it. He never did. Mallory's
6:45still going through a lot, he said. Let
6:48it go one year. I let it go. I told
6:51myself it was just a tree. The first
6:53thing I actually noticed came in
6:55January. Tobias started spending more
6:57time at the bungalow. The water heater,
7:00the back steps, a leak under the kitchen
7:03sink that took three Saturdays to fix.
7:05In the spring, he started leaving his
7:07wedding ring in the cup holder of his
7:09car. He said it caught on his trumpet
7:12valves.
7:13He'd been playing trumpet for 20 years
7:15with that ring on. In the summer,
7:17Mallory stopped coming to Sunday brunch.
7:20She'd come every Sunday for 5 years. Now
7:23she had migraines. Then a new client who
7:25only booked Sundays. Then nothing at
7:28all. In September, at my 34th birthday
7:30dinner at a steakhouse on Cherry Street,
7:33she ordered a club soda and left before
7:35the cake. The next morning she texted
7:37that it was food poisoning. In the
7:39middle of October, my mother called me
7:41out of nowhere and said, Be gentle with
7:44Mallory right now. She's going through
7:46something. What kind of something? I
7:49asked. It's not my place, my mother
7:51said. I asked Tobias if he knew what was
7:54wrong with her. He was loading the
7:56dishwasher. He didn't turn around. Maybe
7:59she's tired of you checking on her, he
8:01said. You do that, Annie. You treat
8:04everyone like a patient. I spent a week
8:06wondering if I treated like a patient.
8:09That's the thing about people who lied
8:11to you well. They give you something to
8:13fix about yourself so you're too busy to
8:15look at them. On Monday, December 7th, I
8:18came in at 6 in the morning to review
8:20the weekend cases the way I did every
8:22Monday. Ines Ocampo, my senior vet tech,
8:25was finishing her overnight shift. She'd
8:27worked with me for 6 years. She was
8:30waiting by my office door with her coat
8:32already on. I need to tell you something
8:34before you read Saturday's charts, she
8:37said, and I need you to not be mad at
8:39me. Saturday night at 1:40 in the
8:42morning, a cat named Pickle had come in
8:44with a linear foreign body, Christmas
8:47tinsel. 3 ft of it wrapped around his
8:50intestines. Dr. Abernathy, my overnight
8:53surgeon, had taken him straight to
8:55surgery. The cat survived. The bill was
8:58$3,860.
9:01Ours is the only 24-hour animal hospital
9:03on that side of Tulsa, and I never work
9:06weekends. The owner was Mallory Quinn.
9:09The man who brought the cat in and paid
9:11for the surgery and signed the consent
9:13form was my husband.
9:15He told me you knew, Ines said quietly.
9:18He said you were all fine with it. He
9:21asked me not to make it weird. I sat
9:23down in my office chair. I didn't open
9:25the chart. I didn't need to. Fine with
9:28what? I asked. Ines looked at the floor.
9:32Your friend is pregnant, Annie. 18
9:34weeks. She told the doctor when we
9:37talked about the litter box. Your
9:39husband said he'd take care of it from
9:40now on. I knew exactly what that meant.
9:44Pregnant women shouldn't clean litter
9:45boxes. I had said it myself to strangers
9:48hundreds of times. I had never imagined
9:51hearing it about my husband. Thank you
9:53for telling me, I said. I'm so sorry,
9:57Ines said. Go home, I said. You've been
10:00up all night. She hugged me anyway
10:02quickly and left. I sat in my office for
10:05a long time. Then I did my job. I
10:07reviewed the other 11 weekend cases,
10:10including a diabetic beagle. I didn'
10:12look at Pickle's chart again. That
10:14afternoon at home, I opened our joint
10:16credit card statement. The $3,860
10:20was there, posted Sunday morning, on the
10:22visa we used for groceries and gas. Then
10:25I opened the bungalow account. Then for
10:28the first time ever, I followed the $700
10:30transfers back to where they came from.
10:33They didn't come from Venmo. They didn't
10:35come from Mallory. Every one of them
10:37came out of our joint savings account.
10:4011 transfers, January through November,
10:43$7,700.
10:46My best friend hadn't paid rent in
10:48almost a year. My husband had been
10:50paying it for her with our money and
10:52labeling it so I would think it came
10:54from her. I had been paying myself rent
10:56to house the woman sleeping with my
10:58husband. I sat at my kitchen table and
11:00did the math three times. It didn't get
11:03better. Tobias came home at 5:30,
11:06carrying a bag of tacos. He saw the
11:08papers on the table and set the bag down
11:10very slowly. How long? I asked. Annie,
11:14how long, Tobias? He sat down across
11:17from me. Since August, he said. Then
11:20when I didn't say anything, since the
11:22spring. Then when I still didn't say
11:25anything, he put his face in his hands.
11:27New Year's Eve, he said. At your mom's
11:30party. It just happened. And the rent? I
11:34asked. Since New Year's too? He looked
11:37up, startled. He hadn't expected that. I
11:40told her you waived it, he said. After
11:43her divorce, she was barely making it. I
11:46didn't want her to feel like a charity
11:48case.
11:49So you made me the charity? It's not
11:51like that. It's exactly like that. He
11:55reached across the table for my hand. I
11:57moved it. Is the baby yours? I asked.
12:01Yes. Were you going to tell me? After
12:04Christmas, he said. Your mom thought it
12:06would be better after Christmas.
12:09I stared at him. My mom knows. He went
12:12pale.
12:13He had said it before he could stop
12:15himself. She's known since October, he
12:18said. Mallory told her first. She was
12:21scared, Annie. She didn't have anyone
12:24else. She had me, I said. She had me for
12:2725 years. I told him to leave. He didn't
12:31argue.
12:32He packed a duffel bag and stood in the
12:34doorway of our bedroom and said, I'll be
12:36at the bungalow if you need anything. My
12:39grandfather's house.
12:41He was going to my grandfather's house.
12:44When his car was gone, I went out to the
12:45garage and sat in my car with the door
12:47closed, the way I do after I lose a
12:49patient, and I cried until the windows
12:52fogged. Then I wiped them with my sleeve
12:54and went back inside because I had a
12:56shift at 6:00 the next morning and a
12:58beagle with diabetes who needed me to
13:00know what I was doing. At 11:00 that
13:02night, he texted me, Please don't tell
13:04Mallory about the rent. I'll pay back
13:06every dollar. She's been through enough.
13:09I didn't answer. He knew me. He knew I
13:12had spent 25 years protecting Mallory
13:15from everything, including the truth. He
13:18was counting on it. On Wednesday
13:20afternoon, my mother came to my house.
13:22She didn't call first. She knocked, and
13:25when I opened the door, my father's
13:27truck was idling in the driveway with
13:29him behind the wheel. He didn't turn off
13:31the engine. He didn't look at me. Behind
13:34my mother coming up the walk were
13:36Mallory and Tobias. When Mallory saw me,
13:39she put both hands over her stomach like
13:41I was something she had to protect it
13:43from. My mother walked past me into my
13:45kitchen and sat at my table in my chair.
13:48Tobias stood by the refrigerator and
13:50didn't look at me once. Mallory sat next
13:52to my mother. My mother took a Walmart
13:55bag out of her tote and handed it to me.
13:57Inside was my Christmas stocking, the
14:00red velvet one with the white cuff that
14:02had hung on her mantel every December
14:04since I was born. Mallory needs family
14:06this year more than you do, Annie, she
14:08said. She's going to spend Christmas
14:11with us. I think it's best if you sit
14:13this one out. You're
14:15me from Christmas, I said. I'm
14:18protecting a pregnant woman from stress,
14:20she said. You know how you get. You'll
14:23make it about you. How long have you
14:25known, Mom? She folded her hands. Since
14:29the first week of October. Mallory came
14:31to the house. She was terrified, Annie.
14:34She didn't know how to tell you. Nine
14:36weeks. Nine weeks of my mother asking me
14:39what I wanted for Christmas. Nine weeks
14:42of telling me to be gentle with Mallory.
14:44There's one more thing, my mother said.
14:47The house. My house. Your grandfather's
14:50house, she said, and her voice went
14:52tight on the word grandfather. Mallory
14:55needs stability. She can't be looking
14:57for a new place with a baby coming in
14:59May. You need to sign her a new lease.
15:02Three years. Same rent. It's the least
15:05you can do. Tobias nodded. It makes
15:08sense for everyone, he said. Mallory
15:11looked up at me for the first time. Her
15:13eyes were wet. I didn't plan any of
15:15this, she said. I swear, Annie. I never
15:19wanted to hurt you. I thought about the
15:21transfers. $7,700.
15:25I thought about her sitting in my
15:26grandfather's living room under his
15:29ceiling, believing I had waived her rent
15:31out of love. I didn't say a word about
15:33it. I'll bring the paperwork to the
15:35house, I said. Saturday the 19th, 10:00
15:39in the morning. Everyone who wants to be
15:42there should be there. My mother sat
15:44back satisfied. See, she said to
15:47Mallory, I told you she'd handle it. She
15:50kissed Mallory's hair and walked out to
15:52the truck. After they left, I took my
15:54stocking out of the Walmart bag and
15:56looked at it for a long time. Then I put
15:58it back in the bag and put the bag in my
16:00hall closet. I couldn't throw it away. I
16:03couldn't hang it up. I didn't know what
16:05you were supposed to do with a thing
16:06like that. On Thursday afternoon after
16:09my shift, I met with an attorney named
16:12Naomi Fairbanks in an old office
16:13building on Boston Avenue. She was in
16:16her 60s and spoke so slowly that I found
16:18myself leaning forward to hear her. She
16:21read everything twice. The credit card
16:23statement, the bungalow account, the
16:26eleven transfers. Then she held up the
16:28page about the cat. Where did you learn
16:31about the veterinary visit? From my
16:33tech. The cat came into my hospital. She
16:37set the page face down on her desk. Then
16:39you don't use it, she said. Not in
16:42court, not in a text, not at a family
16:44dinner. That record belongs to your
16:47clinic and your client. You don't want
16:49to lose your license over a man who left
16:51his wedding ring in a cup holder. But
16:53it's how I found out. How you found out
16:56doesn't matter, she said. What you can
16:58prove does. And you can prove it all
17:00from your own bank statements. The
17:02credit card charge is on your account.
17:05The transfers are from your savings.
17:07That's your money, Annika. Oklahoma lets
17:10a judge consider it when a spouse spends
17:12marital money on someone outside the
17:13marriage. We'll ask for it back in the
17:16property division and the house. The
17:19bungalow was inherited. It's yours
17:21alone.
17:23He has no claim to it. Can I make her
17:25leave? She looked at me over her
17:27glasses. Is she on a written lease?
17:30Month to month. Since the beginning.
17:33Then you can end it, Naomi said. In
17:36Oklahoma, a month to month tenancy ends
17:39with 30 days written notice. Hand it to
17:41her in person or send it certified. If
17:44she doesn't leave, you file in court and
17:46let the judge handle it. What you do not
17:48do is change the locks, shut off the
17:50utilities, or put her things on the
17:52lawn. Not with a pregnant tenant two
17:54weeks before Christmas. Not ever. And
17:57Tobias is living there now. He's not on
18:00the lease. That's her problem and his.
18:03She went through the rest. Open an
18:05account in my name only and move my
18:07paycheck there. Take Tobias off the
18:09bungalow account. Don't spend anything
18:12from savings except normal bills. Don't
18:14answer my mother's texts about the
18:16lease. Let her think whatever she wanted
18:19to think. And Annika, she said as I
18:21stood up, give her more than 30 days,
18:24not because you owe her, because a judge
18:27will read that notice someday, and I
18:29wanted to make you look like exactly who
18:31you are. Naomi filed my divorce petition
18:34the following Wednesday, December 16th
18:36in Tulsa County. On Thursday, I removed
18:39Tobias from the bungalow account. On
18:42Friday, I went to the hall closet, took
18:44a box down from the top shelf and found
18:46my grandfather's will. I read the
18:48handwritten line again, to Annie who
18:51came every Sunday. Then I found the
18:53second thing I was looking for. My
18:55mother texted me three times that week.
18:58Can you bring the lease printed, not on
19:00your phone? Mallory wants to read it
19:02carefully. We'll bring coffee. I didn't
19:05answer. On Saturday, December 19th, I
19:08drove to the Pearl District at 9:45. The
19:11pecan tree was still dark. Grandpa's 600
19:14lights were still in their box in the
19:16garage where I packed them two
19:18Christmases ago. A wreath with a big red
19:20bow hung on the front door. My mother's
19:23wreath. It had hung on her door for 20
19:25years. Tobias opened the door.
19:28He was wearing a sweatshirt I had bought
19:30him. He'd been living there for 12 days.
19:33My mother was in the living room,
19:35sitting on Grandpa's couch with a
19:37Starbucks cup in each hand. My father
19:40stood in the doorway to the kitchen,
19:42holding her purse. He'd come inside this
19:44time. Mallory sat in Grandpa's armchair,
19:47the brown leather one with the cracked
19:49arm, with a blanket over her knees.
19:52There were no lights on the pecan tree
19:53outside the window behind her. Annie, my
19:56mother said brightly, we brought you a
19:59latte. I didn't sit down. I stood in
20:02front of the fireplace where my
20:03grandfather used to warm his hands after
20:06he came in from the cold, and I opened
20:08my folder. Before anyone signs anything,
20:11I said, there are some numbers you
20:13should hear. My mother sighed. Annie,
20:16please don't make this a scene. It's not
20:18a scene, Mom. It's a ledger. I I up the
20:21first page. This is the account I keep
20:24for this house. Every month for two
20:26years, $700 came in labeled rent, M.
20:30I held up the second page. This is the
20:33joint savings account Tobias and I
20:34share. Starting in January, every one of
20:37those $700 came out of it. 11 transfers,
20:41$7,700.
20:44Mallory frowned. That's not right, she
20:47said. Annie, you waived my rent in
20:50January. Tobias told me you said I was
20:52family and you didn't want my money
20:54anymore. I never waived anything, I
20:57said. I never knew you weren't paying.
21:00Mallory turned and looked at Tobias. You
21:03told me she said that, she said. You
21:05told me she said those exact words.
21:08You've always been family. Tobias opened
21:11his mouth. Nothing came out. Those were
21:13my words, I said, from two years ago
21:17when I handed you the keys. Mallory's
21:20face went white then red. So all year,
21:23she said slowly, every time I thanked
21:25her in my head, every time I felt guilty
21:28about what we were doing and thought, at
21:30least she's not charging me. She was
21:32paying for it. We were paying for it, I
21:35said. Out of the money Tobias and I were
21:37saving for a baby. The room went very
21:40quiet. Mallory pressed the back of her
21:42hand to her mouth. My mother set down
21:45both coffee cups on Grandpa's side
21:47table. Then she reached into her purse,
21:49which my father was still holding, and
21:51took out a large white envelope. This is
21:54exactly why we need to settle it today,
21:56she said. No more leases, no more rent,
22:00no more of you holding this house over
22:02her head. She pulled out a document and
22:05held it toward me. It was a quit claim
22:07deed, already filled out in my mother's
22:10neat second grade teacher handwriting.
22:12The property address was my
22:13grandfather's house. The grantor was me.
22:17The grantee was Mallory Quinn. Sign it,
22:20my mother said. You have your own house.
22:23Mallory needs this one. Your grandfather
22:25would have wanted it to go to someone
22:27who needed it. I looked at the date
22:29she'd written in the corner. October
22:319th. You filled this out in October, I
22:34said. Two days after she told you. My
22:37mother's chin came up. That house was my
22:40father's, she said. It should have come
22:42to me.
22:44He only left it to you because you guilt
22:45him into it, driving over every Sunday
22:47like a martyr. I was going to give it to
22:50Mallory and the baby. That's what a
22:52family does. Mallory stared at her. You
22:55told me she already agreed, she said.
22:58You told me in October, Diane. You said
23:00Annie never wanted the house. You said
23:03she'd sign it over as soon as the baby
23:05came. My mother didn't answer her. I
23:08opened the folder again and took out my
23:10grandfather's will. Grandpa left this
23:12house to me, mom. Not because I guilt
23:15him, because I came. I read the line out
23:18loud. To Annie who came every Sunday.
23:21Then I turned the page to the second
23:23thing I had found in that box. It was my
23:25grandfather's letter. I read it now.
23:28Annie, your mother will want this house.
23:30Don't let her give it away. Keep the
23:33lights on. My mother stopped breathing
23:35for a second. I watched it happen.
23:38Behind her, my father set her purse down
23:40on the kitchen counter very carefully,
23:43like it had gotten heavy. I took out the
23:45last page and handed it to Mallory, not
23:48to my mother, to Mallory. This is a
23:50written notice ending your
23:52month-to-month tenancy, I said. The law
23:55says I have to give you 30 days. I'm
23:57giving you until January 31st. You can
24:00stay through Christmas and through New
24:02Year's and you can take the time to find
24:04a place. Tobias isn't on the lease, so
24:06he was never supposed to be living here
24:08at all.
24:09And this, I said, setting one more page
24:12on the side table, is a copy of my
24:14divorce petition filed Wednesday. Tobias
24:17finally found his voice. Annie, it's
24:19Christmas.
24:21I know, I said. That's why it's January
24:2331st instead of January 18th. Mallory
24:27held the notice in both hands. She
24:29didn't cry. She looked at Tobias for a
24:32long moment, and something in her face
24:34closed like a door. Then she looked at
24:36me. I'm sorry, she said. Not for the
24:39baby. I can't be sorry for the baby, but
24:42for the rest of it. All of it. I know, I
24:46said. I believe you. I turned to my
24:48mother. You told me Mallory needed
24:51family more than I did, I said. You can
24:54have Christmas with her, mom. That's
24:56yours to give. This house never was. I
24:59picked up the quit claim deed from the
25:01side table, folded it in half, and put
25:04it in my folder with everything else. On
25:06my way out, I lifted my mother's wreath
25:08off the front door and handed it back to
25:10her through the doorway, the way she had
25:12handed me my stocking. My father was
25:15already in the truck.
25:17He'd walked out before any of us without
25:19a word and was sitting behind the wheel
25:21with the engine off, staring at the dark
25:23pecan tree. He didn't look at me when I
25:25passed. I don't know what he was
25:27thinking. I've stopped needing to know.
25:30On Christmas day, I worked. I'd
25:32volunteered for the shift weeks earlier,
25:34back when I still thought Christmas
25:36would be the hard part. I put a 90 year
25:38old couple's poodle to sleep gently
25:41while they held her and sang to her in
25:42Spanish. At midnight, Ines brought me a
25:45paper plate of her mother-in-law's
25:47tamales, and we ate them standing up at
25:49the treatment counter. It was one of the
25:51best Christmases I've ever had. My
25:54cousin Bethany posted pictures of my
25:56mother's Christmas on Facebook. Mallory
25:58was sitting in my mother's living room
26:00in my old spot on the couch by the fire
26:03under the mantle. There was a new
26:04stocking hanging there. It was white
26:07velvet with a little silver booty
26:09stitched on the cuff. Mine wasn't there.
26:12I already knew that. I had it in my
26:14closet. Bethany called me two days
26:16later. She said the pictures didn't show
26:18the rest. Mallory hadn't said a single
26:21word to my mother all through dinner.
26:23She left before the pie with Tobias
26:25trailing behind her, and the white
26:27velvet stocking was still hanging on the
26:29mantle when everyone else went home. My
26:32mother sat by the tree with a pile of
26:34presents nobody had opened. She kept
26:36saying she just wanted everyone
26:38together, Bethany said. She kept saying
26:41it like somebody had taken it from her.
26:43Mallory moved out of the bungalow on
26:45January 29th, two days early. She left
26:49the keys on the kitchen counter under a
26:51note that said the water heater makes a
26:53noise. It's fine. Tobias never fixed it.
26:57He moved with her into a two-bedroom
26:58apartment in Sand Springs because she
27:01had nowhere else to go with the baby
27:02coming. The rent was $1,375
27:06a month. For the first time in a year,
27:08they had to pay it. The divorce took
27:10five months. Tobias's lawyer argued that
27:13the rent was a gift to a family friend I
27:15treated like a sister and that the cat's
27:17surgery was an emergency anyone would
27:19have paid for. The judge wasn't
27:21interested in the first argument. She
27:24was a little interested in the second.
27:26In the end, she credited me the full
27:28$7,700
27:30for the rent and half of the surgery
27:32bill, $9,630
27:35taken out of Tobias's share when we sold
27:37the Brookside house. I lost $1,930
27:41in a marriage. I kept my grandfather's
27:43house. Mallory had a baby boy in May.
27:46Bethany told me his name was Wyatt. I
27:49hope he's happy. I hope somebody plugs
27:51in the lights for him every December. By
27:54June, Mallory and Tobias had split up.
27:56Bethany said it wasn't one big fight. It
27:59was the rent. Mallory had never forgiven
28:02him for making her a liar in her own
28:04head for a year. She moved back to
28:06Oklahoma City to be near her father.
28:09Tobias kept the apartment in Sand
28:10Springs and sees his son every other
28:12weekend. And my mother lost Mallory too.
28:15Not in one moment. Slowly, Mallory went
28:19to one more Sunday dinner in January and
28:21left early. She stopped answering my
28:24mother's calls in February. When the
28:26baby came, my mother found out from
28:28Facebook like everybody else. I think
28:30Mallory finally understood what I had
28:32understood at 12. My mother's love
28:35always came with the house attached. It
28:37just wasn' always her house. I moved
28:39into the bungalow in April after the
28:42Brookside house sold. I painted the
28:44kitchen yellow the way it was when I was
28:46a kid. I fixed the water heater myself
28:49with a YouTube video and a wrench that
28:51had my grandfather's initials scratched
28:53into the handle. Took me one Saturday.
28:55My father called on my birthday that
28:57September. He talked about the weather
28:59for 6 minutes. He didn't say my mother's
29:02name. Before he hung up, he said, That
29:05tree of your grandpa still look good? I
29:08said it did. He said good. And that was
29:11all. My mother didn't call. Not once all
29:14year. On December 1st, I took grandpa's
29:17600 lights out of the box in the garage.
29:20Half the bulbs were dead. I replaced
29:22everyone. Took me two nights. Mr.
29:25Delgado, the old man from across the
29:27street, brought a ladder and refused to
29:30let me climb past the second branch.
29:32Then he went home. I wanted to do the
29:34last part alone. At 6:00 when it was
29:37fully dark, I stood on the porch with
29:39the plug in my hand. I thought about
29:42grandpa standing in that exact spot with
29:44his hands in his pockets. I plugged them
29:46in. The whole tree lit up at once. 600
29:49little lights all the way to the top. So
29:51bright the street looked like it was
29:53holding its breath. A woman I'd never
29:55met stopped her car in the middle of the
29:57street, rolled down her window and said,
29:59Oh, thank God. I thought he was gone for
30:02good. A few minutes after she drove
30:04away, a silver Buick came down the
30:07street very slowly. My mother's car. It
30:10stopped in front of the house right
30:12under the tree with the engine running.
30:14I could see her face through the
30:15windshield in the glow of the lights.
30:17She didn't get out. I didn't go down the
30:20steps. We looked at each other for a
30:22long moment across the yard she had
30:24grown up in. I thought about a
30:2612-year-old on a fold-out couch in a
30:28sewing room and the woman who had knelt
30:30down and told her she'd always be fine
30:32on her own. She'd made sure of it. Then
30:35my mother's car pulled
30:36and I let it go. Later that night, I
30:39went to my hall closet and took out the
30:41Walmart bag.
30:42I took out my red velvet stocking, the
30:44one my mother had handed back to me, and
30:47I hung it on the mantle of my
30:48grandfather's fireplace. My own mantle
30:51in my own house. My mother always said I
30:54was fine on my own. She was right, but
30:57she was wrong about what that meant. It
30:59didn't mean nobody needed to make room
31:01for me. It meant I could make it myself.
31:04My grandfather used to say somebody has
31:06to keep the lights on. That Christmas, I
31:08didn't wait for anyone to invite me
31:10home. I was already there and the lights
31:13were on.

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