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The frigid sting of late December flooded her fingertips as she pressed them against the glass, melting the frost with her warm skin and fogging the window with her breath. She sat in the living room across from the open hearth, resting on her knees and placed on the tightly stuffed window bench. The room was more cluttered than usual, as a larger-than-life-sized tree was placed in the corner next to her, completely dripping with tinsel in silver and gold, along with porcelain and glass ornaments that delicately refracted light from the blazing fire. Embedded in the dark green rug were the remnants of wrapping paper leftover from the morning’s present opening, that Diana was trying her best to clean up. All of her shiny new things were already neatly tucked away in her bedroom except for one, that being a large pendant necklace she was currently wearing around her neck. It was made from a thin gold chain that ended in a perfectly cut oval topaz, coloured a vibrant magenta. It was easier for her parents to assign everything to her and her sister in colours, that way they could always get a matching set and still be unique. Hers was magenta, the colour of a cactus fruit, and Holly’s was always red, the colour of holly berries. This was why Holly was wearing an identical necklace except with a garnet stone a little ways away, meticulously adjusting the ornaments on the tree.
“How much do you wanna bet they’ll be late?” Holly suddenly piped up, checking her watch for the umpteenth time.
“They haven’t been here in a few years, and they’re old,” Opuntia replied logically, “maybe they got lost.”
“Then they should be leaving early,” Holly pouted. “Why should you waste our time when you don’t know directions?”
Just as she said this, however, Opuntia spotted a long and slender vehicle, extremely vibrant against the blank landscape. She watched the tires of the car slice tracks into the heaps of fresh snow as the gate was opened for it. Opuntia immediately rose to her feet at this sight, but Holly remained by the tree and the fireplace where it was warm.
“Family’s here!” Diana called from the front hall. Opuntia then felt a cold gust of air as the front door was opened and three people dressed in thick coats and scarves bustled inside. She quickly adjusted her bangs, made sure her socks were the same length, and forced her face into a pleasant expression before greeting them.
The first sight was of her grandmother, Beatrice, or Bea as everyone called her. She pulled her in for a hug that was padded by her grey mink coat but was still uncomfortable, as she was also being squished against a thick string of pearls draped on her neck.
“Merry Christmas,” Opuntia’s words were muffled by her grandmother’s embrace.
“Oh, Merry Christmas, and more importantly, happy belated birthday to you, dearie.”
It was Opuntia’s birthday only a few days ago, on the eighteenth. It was also her eighteenth birthday, making it her champagne birthday, not that she would be drinking any champagne or even wanted to.
Her grandmother was a stout woman, like her daughter, but liked to conceal it by always wearing tall heels, even if they currently weren’t in fashion. She had less wrinkles in her old age and instead sported many sunspots and freckles from her numerous vacations to Portugal, where Opuntia’s grandfather was born.
“You’ve grown up so much, it baffles me to see you becoming a grown lady now, my little mousy,” ‘Mousy’ was Beatrice’s nickname for her, as she had with all of her children and grandchildren.
“She’s looking less mousy now, if you ask me,” A raspy voice rang out from behind them. “Looks more crowish,” Dusting herself free from powdered snowfall was Dorothea, Beatrice’s lifelong friend. They had always considered her part of the family ever since her husband died in the Korean War, and had taken to showing up at every family gathering since then, even inviting herself on those aforementioned European vacations. Where Bea dressed extravagantly and elegantly, Aunt Dorothea was almost excessive. Looking past her blunt bob of course white hair, gold and diamonds covered almost every inch of skin that stuck out from her coat, and had to also include a real fur hat and foxtail scarf. Opuntia remembered being terrified of it as a child, and Holly chasing her around the house with it.
“And here I thought you’d be chubbier with how much more they feed the boys,” Dorothea continued, looking at Opuntia beadily. “But I guess you’ve been restraining yourself. Maybe too much.” Dorothea was one of those relatives that Opuntia admired as a child but felt more ambivalent about as she grew. When she was younger, she found her blunt and sometimes unapprehended comments amusing, but she wasn’t sure how she stood on them now, especially when they were about her. She hid her arms behind her back instinctively, trying to cover her slender and awkward-looking frame.
“Hello everyone!” Holly had now entered the entry hall, beaming at her guests like there was a camera in front of her.
“Now you’ve grown so much since I’ve last seen you, my bunny,” Beatrice cried with delight, scooping her into her arms.
“She looks just like her mother, gorgeous, gorgeous girl,” Dorothea commented once again. Holly just smiled modestly.
“Almost as gorgeous as you, Aunt Dorothea,”
Dorothea chuckled and hugged her at these words. “Just like your mother, I tell you, and you look more like your father,” She was pointing at Opuntia again, who stood there awkwardly, just not wanting to be seen. Just then, her parents came down the stairs arm and arm, also greeting the guests.
“Hello! Merry Christmas, merry Christmas, oh you both look lovely, mother are those the gloves I got you?” Adelaide was spewing out salutations and warm welcomes, while Mordred remained polite and quiet only briefly kissing the two women on the cheek.
“You too, so skinny,” Dorothea poked him. “Adelaide, why haven’t you been feeding your husband enough?”
Adelaide’s smile faltered for a split second, before brushing it off with a laugh like a wind chime.
“Oh, Mordred has been working so hard lately, many late nights at the academy, lots of meetings, haven’t you honey?” But before Modred could answer she was already moving on.
“Oh, father, please come inside. It's freezing out there, you can’t be getting a cold at this age.”
Opuntia’s grandfather, Salvatore, was still talking to his driver and reviewing his parking job on the wrap-around driveway. He shrugged and came inside, carrying the smell of cigars and the sound of jingling pockets with him.
“What a beautiful tree,” Beatrice awed at the Christmas tree in the sitting room as the group had their coats and boots taken off.
“I do hope that angel up there is ours, Coelho, is it?” Salvatore asked with an eyebrow raised, indicating the delicately crafted angel on the top. It had wings made of glass painted gold around the trim and a dress from iridescent blue silk. But of course, Salvatore was referring to the porcelain body since his family were the creators of the most successful porcelain importing business in all of Portugal, and one of the most successful in the states.
“Yes, father, it is,” Adelaide replied, kissing him on the cheek.
The night slowly brought them from room to room, from the sitting room to open even more gifts from their guests, to the dining room where they were served course after course of Christmas dinner. Mordred was, of course, at the head of the table, talking to her grandfather about business and politics, something he never got to talk about usually at the dinner table. On some occasions, Opuntia’s twin uncles, Uncle Andrew and Uncle Thomas were also present, but they were both extremely busy with work, as was the case with every Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter. The look in Mordred’s eyes was something she also rarely saw. It was clear there was a sign of respect there for his father-in-law, an openness on his face and a body that was almost relaxed, attentive. She tried her hardest to listen to their conversation from 3 seats down but was reluctantly dragged into the talk from the other side of the table.
“So, my granddaughters, how is school going for you? Lots of hard material?” Bea asked while precisely cutting her strip of turkey.
“Oh, it’s going good so far,” Holly immediately answered after taking a sip of water. “I’ve been pretty active in school activities and I’ve made a few more friends this year, actually,” This was all news to Opuntia.
“But, I will say, I’m finding tenth grade harder than ninth grade. I feel like I could use some help in science, so I was hoping Father could maybe help me over the break,” she trailed off with a slightly naive and hopeful look across the table. Mordred, however, scowled at this notion.
“I couldn’t help you with that,” he said matter-of-factly, taking another spoonful of steaming vegetables. “Holly, you know I was never involved or interested in science.”
“Oh, honey, maybe Opuntia could help you out, I’m sure she remembers what she learned two years ago. I’m sure it’s not too different from what they teach at your school, right?” Adelaide suggested, looking between her two daughters. Mordred seemed to like this idea even less.
“No,” he said immediately. “We can get you a tutor, Holly. Did you forget all of the connections the academy has? It’ll be done tomorrow.” And that topic was concluded, shut down by the authority as soon as it began. Opuntia watched the look on her sister’s face flicker between her faux gratitude and real disappointment.
“You’re a busy man, Mordred,” Dorothea was now adding her two cents, even though everyone else at the table wanted to move on. Mordred and Salvatore soon went back to their mumblings on the Vietnam War, and the new NATO alliances.
“I would just keep it in the family instead of handpicking a tutor. I mean, what’s the point of going to a private school if you aren’t gonna come back learning stuff, eh? Although, I suppose for you there’s another upside,” She was winking at Opuntia, who had to force a smile onto her face at these words.
“Yeah, the education there is extremely excellent,” she replied, trying to avoid the second half of Dorothea’s comment. She also had to lie through her teeth to answer the first half, especially with her father present. She tried to shovel her mouth full of mashed potatoes to prevent her from getting asked more questions, but this did not help.
“I cannot believe you’re almost graduating soon. How the years have flown by, mousy, my goodness. It’s making me feel old.” Beatrice dawdled, touching her face absentmindedly to smooth out any imperfections.
“You look great, Grandma,” Holly beamed at her, and Adelaide offered similar words of reassurance.
“Oh, stop it,” Bea said playfully, then turned back to Opuntia. “You know, come June, you should consider staying with your Aunt Dorothea at her new place in Vermont. You can keep her company, and travel, of course.”
Opuntia didn’t know what to think of this. It was a very vague offer, and she didn’t know how long she would stay there or even if her father would agree. But she didn’t want to make excuses now in front of Dorothea; it would be impolite. She just smiled cordially, and said,
“That would be nice.”
She was sure she could only stay there for at most one summer before she went off to university anyway, but she didn’t know if she liked the sound of spending all of her time as a perfect little doll for Dorothea to rip apart with verbal jabs and passive-aggressive remarks.
“That is, unless…” Beatrice added, trailing off with a giggle and taking a sip of her wine. Opuntia looked puzzled. She looked at the rest of the table. Holly also looked confused at this inferring statement, but her mother suddenly looked away with the smallest touch of discomfort. Dorothea on the other hand, was smirking very obviously.
“Unless you’ve found yourself a husband before then.” Dorothea finished her friend’s sentence for her, leaving Opuntia with her fork hanging in midair. The two of them giggled and even Holly joined in. Only Adelaide and Opuntia were not laughing. She was so glad she only had these conversations at most, once a year, but as she grew it began to grow more and more frequent. First at the party, now this? Her own family had put more thought into her future than she apparently had, and she didn’t know which part of that was more concerning. Dorothea leaned in to speak to Opuntia, her large bosom nearly landing in her gravy.
“Evidently, we know being modest is a good thing, but come on, Opuntia, you can be honest with me. You can’t tell me you go to that private school with those big-shot future lawyers and doctors and haven’t chosen your lot.” Her breath stank of cigarettes and her bright peach lipstick clashed horribly with her pale skin. That was all Opuntia could think of because she had no idea how to reply. Unlucky for her, someone else did.
“Oh, she does. She has lots. She just got a letter from one of them the other day, actually.” Opuntia wanted to kick Holly’s swinging legs from under the table. She gritted her teeth as Dorothea and her grandmother’s eyes lit up with delight.
“Oh did she, now, you little devil!” Bea grinned.
“Okay, mother, let’s not talk about this at dinner,” Adelaide was finally stepping in, putting an arm around Opuntia’s shoulders. Opuntia let out a deep sigh, thinking she was saved.
“She still has lots of time to decide, she just turned eighteen for goodness sake.”
“But you see, people are waiting too long these days,” Dorothea could not keep her wide mouth shut. No matter what, she would not be discouraged.
“You don’t want all the good ones to be gone, dear, take it from me. If you’re after those ambitious types, you have to act fast before they get sucked into their job and don’t care about anything else. That one’s an example of that.” She pointed her knife across the table towards Mordred, making Adelaide shift in her seat and visibly frown.
Opuntia was just saying anything at this point to tune her out and move on.
“Well, maybe when I’m in school I can find someone there.” She said half-heartedly, not realizing this was the completely wrong thing to say. This time, everyone else was puzzled at the statement made. Opuntia tried to recount what she had just said, wondering where she had gone wrong. As plates were being taken away by the workers of the house and the Christmas trifle was being prepared to serve.
“What do you mean, school?” Dorothea implored, a thin eyebrow raised. “You’re almost done with school.”
“Sorry, I meant afterwards, in university,” Opuntia clarified, but still, this did not make things better. Holly was shaking her head from across the table, glancing at her like she was an idiot.
“But why on earth would you need to go to university, dear? Your mother never went to university, heaven knows I never went.” Bea told her, a hand over her heart. She was looking at Opuntia like she was showing signs of a grave illness, concerned to say the least. It was then that Opuntia realized where she had gone wrong.
She was so used to everyone around her taking the next step. All of her friends were flustered trying to pick out schools and majors and write college essays that she just got accustomed to the idea of her joining them. She supposed she was too naive in thinking that everyone would wholeheartedly agree, and accept that she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life practically catering to a man’s every move. Sure, she didn’t know what she wanted her future to look like, but in that moment, she knew concretely that it would not be that. But there, in the dining room surrounded by outdated patterned wallpaper and beneath a crystal chandelier, she had to explain herself, somehow. She had to explain herself to these women who didn’t see her, or even themselves, as humans.
“Well, I--I just figured, like you said, auntie, I’ve learned a lot in my six years at Arison and I didn’t want to throw away a diploma by not doing anything with it.” She said half-heartedly. She felt like she was trying every kind of key on a locked door, but none of them would work.
“A diploma?” Dorothea shook her head as she accepted her slice of trifle and poured more red wine. She looked flabbergasted at seeing the words ‘diploma’ leave a young woman’s mouth.
“You see, this here is the problem. You’ve spent too much time on your academics rather than finding a man, isn’t that right?”
Opuntia could feel her face growing hot again as blotches of scarlet appeared on her sharp cheekbones. She refused any trifle. What she now craved most was to scream. She had nowhere to retreat to. She had no paper to channel her feelings on.
“There are other things to strive towards in life besides just a husband,” she said in a tiny voice, though her throat was filling with smoke from the stoking fire within her.
“Opuntia, don’t be rude,” Adelaide was now warning her, her hand now clamping down on her shoulder instead of comforting it. At his wife’s dark words, Mordred had now tuned back into their conversation.
“That’s enough,” But she couldn’t stop. She didn’t know why. How could she stop when nothing anyone was doing was calming her down? She knew her father was listening.
“I mean, I went to Arison in the first place because of my father. I was doing it--”
“Did you not hear me, I said that’s enough.”
“--for him, not with a husband in mind, so--”
“ODILE, ENOUGH.”
Mordred’s voice was as cold as the evening air. It was as if someone had just opened a window with how chilled Opuntia felt at that moment. She pursed her lips and just stared down at the tablecloth, wishing she could melt into the floor. Her head was still pounding, but she had to ignore it.
“Well, that was a lovely dinner,” Beatrice swooped in, clasping her hands together and finishing her trifle. “Tell me, what is in this trifle? Is it nutmeg?”
Everyone was moving on. Everyone was acting fine. Opuntia would act fine. Her grandfather muttered something under his breath in Portuguese as she stood up and passed him, and although she didn’t understand him, she knew it was not good. She excruciatingly kept her face in a neutral expression as she went into the scullery and began silently helping clean all the dishes. It was the least she could do, to help the mess she made and more importantly, hide away to stop herself from making things worse.
“Thanks for ruining Christmas dinner, Holly huffed as she passed by, in a voice so low that only she could hear. “I doubt we’ll even get to watch It’s a Wonderful Life now that Father’s upset.”
Opuntia said nothing. She scrubbed plates until they sparkled. The staff tried to push her away but she didn’t budge. Her fingers were pruny and burnt from the hot water but she didn’t care.
She only stopped when she felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder for the third time that night.
“Tia, come out and be with everyone,” she pleaded softly, turning Opuntia around to face her. Her mother brushed the black hair from her face and lovingly tucked it behind her ears. Opuntia looked away, feeling too ashamed to look into her green eyes. She didn’t get it. She first thought she was this way because she was a girl, but how could every other woman just laugh along and smile at borderline insults so gracefully? She was expected to be a lady but was raised around nothing but boys. Now she didn’t know what had become of her.
“Your father shouldn’t have yelled at you like that,” Adelaide said in almost a whisper. “I’m sure he’s sorry.”
Opuntia only wished she could hear that from Mordred himself.
“BUT, you also shouldn’t have been rude like that around our guests. It’s not…ladylike.” She finished, and Opuntia felt her heart sink, but she still said nothing.
There was a long pause as if her mother was internally debating if she should say more. Finally, she did.
“...Odile was your aunt’s name, I’m sure you were wondering.”
Opuntia had completely glossed over the fact that Mordred had called her the wrong name at the time, but now something had clicked. Her father had a sister, too. That was the first time he had even referenced her. She knew nothing about her besides the fact that she was clearly gone.
“...the one that passed?” Opuntia finally spoke. But her mother shook her head. “She’s not passed, honey, well, we honestly don’t know. Your father doesn’t know. She…ran away. She was around your age, I think. He’s never talked about her much, so please, please don’t mention this to him, okay?”
She kissed Opuntia’s forehead, having to stand on her tiptoes to do so. She then wrapped herself tightly in her wool sweater and shivered.
“It’s so cold in here honey, please come and sit with us. It’s Christmas.” She said before stalking out of the scullery. 153Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoiFccHT03F
But the only family Opuntia wanted to see was Odile Arison. That night, as Opuntia finally closed the door to her room, she immediately rushed to her wardrobe and began rummaging through it, past all of her new clothes, and school uniforms and finally to a stack of dusty frames that had been there for as long as she could recall. Out she pulled a painting of a young woman, no older than her. She now knew who this woman must’ve been.
They themselves could have been sisters, with the same angled face, coal-coloured hair and thin, slightly curved nose. The only difference was the eyes, and through the thick layer of dust and grime, Opuntia could see they were painted a powder blue. Holly’s eyes. Mordred’s eyes.
In that moment, Opuntia felt more sympathy for a woman she had never met over the ones she had dealt with tonight. She had no clue why she had run away and disappeared from the twisted Arison line but she was sure it was for the same reasons why she wanted to run away now. As Opuntia placed the painting back into its hiding spot, the only thing she could do to forget about that Christmas night was hope that wherever Odile was now, she was happy.
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