I was decidedly not a morning person.
As I sat in the uncomfortably stiff chair in Dr. Morgan's office, I blinked away the stubborn drowsiness that stung my eyes. It was blindingly bright outside, the sunlight streaming through the windows mocking me with it's cheerfulness.
It was entirely too early to be talking about feelings, but with both me and Matt needing to be at work early most days, the only time left for me to do therapy was either early as shit in the morning or just before twilight.
Despite my disdain of mornings, I was in a good mood. My date with Taylor had gone well and the last few days we'd been texting like schoolgirls till the wee hours of the morning. I found myself smiling, fidgeting with the string of my hoodie as I waited for the doctor to come in.
I didn't have to wait long, the doctor came bustling through the door, a thick stack of papers in her hands. She let them fall to the desk with a loud 'thud' and flopped into her stately office chair. Her makeup looked less polished then usual, like it'd been done in a rush. Her slate grey eyes were tired but content as she smoothed her frazzled hair.
"Someone looks happy." She observed me with a playful smile, shuffling through her stack of papers, pulling out what I assumed was my file. She pushed her glasses higher upon her nose and scanned over the words on the document before her. "Wow, it's been a while since we last talked."
I nodded. "I had a date with Taylor a few days ago. It went really well... we've decided to take things slow and see where things go."
Dr. Morgan looked at me, a proud smile dancing across her features, she rested back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. "How are you feeling about things with Taylor now? I know before Kris' accident, you were very stressed about that whole situation."
I looked at my hands, picking at my fingernails. "I'm still really nervous about how our relationship will work out. She's not out to her family, so we have to keep our relationship secret for now. And I'm a little worried about how Kris will react to us being more then friends."
"That is a valid concern. You're just figuring out how to be yourself and not letting the opinions of other people bother you. Having a partner that treats you like a secret might wind up taking a toll on you, so please be careful."
I felt the heat creeping up my neck and I silently cursed Dr. Morgan's rationality. She was making a lot of sense, and I didn't like it. "I know it's probably a bad idea to try and start a relationship right now, but I don't want to wait anymore. We circled around our feelings for so long and now we're exploring it. I want to see where it goes."
I could see that Dr. Morgan wanted to argue with me. She opened her mouth to retort, but no sound came out. Her brows knitted together in thought, before she let out a sigh. She leaned forward and cradled her chin in her folded hands. "How's Kris?"
I was thankful for the change of subject, picking and a stubborn hangnail as I though of what to say in reply. Kris was not the easiest person to live with at the best of times, and her lack of mobility and need for help around the house had made her more cantankerous then usual.
"Physically, she's healing well. The doctors say she needs to keep her foot elevated and not to put pressure on her ankle, but she's taken to hopping around on her crutches whenever me or Matt aren't looking."
The sides of the older blonde's mouth turned up in a smile. By now, the doctor was familiar with Kris' feisty nature and dislike of sitting still. "How is Matt handling it?"
"He's helicoptering and annoying the crap out of her. Matt wants her to sit still and rest, but Kris doesn't like not having something to do."
Dr. Morgan's face fell, and she drummed her fingers on the surface of the desk. "Hm. I understand his concerns, but he also can't treat her like a child, or that's bound to build some resentment. On the other hand, Kris needs to be aware of her limitations with her injury. Getting back into the saddle too soon could aggravate her ankle more."
I couldn't help the snicker that sneaked past my lips, despite the seriousness of the subject matter. "Kris already resents him. She's very vocal about not being an invalid. The poor man has caught the business end of a crutch a lot recently."
My mirth was contagious and Maria unsuccessfully hid a chuckle behind her hand. "Sounds like you're processing the accident well. Though I do also wonder how you're handling the increased strain to your finances with Kris not being able to work."
I shifted in the unforgiving plastic chair. Anxiety bubbled in the pit of my stomach and I tried to remind myself that Dr. Morgan's office was a safe space.
"I-uh..." My voice cracked when I tried to stammer out my response. I took in a deep breath, trying to calm the screaming nerves clawing at the back of my throat. "I'm scared."
The words I managed to squeak out didn't convey the depths of my emotion right now. Instead of trying to force the words from my mouth, I opened my notebook and flipped to a blank page. Dr. Morgan eased back in her chair and gave me a knowing look as I began to write.
December 19th, 2014
Scared was an understatement. Terror had been at the back of my mind in the weeks following Kris' accident. When Kris had hurt her ankle, it shattered what little financial security we had. Many nights I'd spent staring up at the water stained roof, trying to think of answers to our financial crisis. Try as I might, I couldn't find a second job willing to work within the confines of my BurgerByte schedule.
I wasn't the only one that was concerned about money. Kris had been wracking her brain for ways to help make some quick cash. She'd even posted some of her less sentimental belongings for sale on Craigslist to drum up some money. Her inability to help only further soured her mood most nights.
I couldn't blame her.
Christmas was fast approaching and we didn't even have a tree. It may have been silly of us to worry about such trivial things when we were barely able to make our electricity bill, but Christmas had always been a big deal for all of us.
Hell, one of the few things my mother had done right was her ability to make Christmas magical.
We would blast merry carols at top volume on our way to do our shopping, hunting for deals and perfect items for family members. We'd come home with the trunk of her sedan filled to the very brim with gifts for friends and family.
She always made sure that there were presents under the tree for the Wooding siblings, too. Nothing too valuable, in fear of their mother selling it for booze, but quite a few of the trinkets we'd given them through the years ended up in Matt's singlewide.
Christmas this year for our family looked much bleaker. Any extra cash would likely spent on repairing our living situation. The aging subflooring of our home was starting to sag in places, a combination of wear and water damage making the floor uneven. One such place near the hallway leading to my room was so weak I'd nearly fallen through multiple times.
Should we somehow manage to pay all the bills this month, we would likely spend any extra funding fixing the various dilapidations that came with owning a 30 year old mobile home.
I looked somberly at Dr. Morgan, passing the notebook over to her. I was unsatisfied with what I wrote, but I hoped the older woman could read deeper into my writing and glean my conflicting feelings.
She glanced up at me over her glasses. "It looks like you're all having issues adjusting to the new normal."
My brows furrowed in an ugly expression. "You could say that. It's just hard... no matter how shitty things have been, we've always come together for Christmas. What I wouldn't give to even just have some dollar store decorations.... This time of the year is usually so happy for us.. but this year it's just reminding us of everything we don't have."
Dr. Morgan leaned across the desk to pat my hand reassuringly, a sympathetic smile on her lips. "I know it's hard. I had plenty of disappointing Christmases when I was your age. Some years, I went without lunch for a week just so I could scrape enough money together to buy my daughter a present."
She paused to take a drink of water before clearing her throat. "I can see how much this means to you. Maybe you and the Woodings can make your own magic? You could decorate the house, put on some holiday music, make some cookies?"
I shook my head grimly. "We don't even have a tree. Before I moved in, Matt would save enough out of his checks every month for them to go pick out a live tree."
Dr. Morgan abruptly stood from her office chair and stormed out of the room and for a moment, I thought something I'd said had offended her. I let out a long sigh, bouncing my leg anxiously, waiting for her return.
I wasn't left waiting long, she came through the door with a large Rubbermaid tote in a shade of garish red. She sat it on the desk in front of us and started rummaging through the plastic tote. After a moment, she retrieved pieces of what I soon realized was a small plastic Christmas tree.
Immediately, I knew what she was doing. "Maria, I can't take this."
Dr. Morgan sent me a stern glare over her glasses. "You can, and you will. Listen, I have had this thing for years. I get so busy with the holidays that I don't have any time to decorate my office. All this stuff is doing is collecting dust and spiders in the supply closet. You take it, give it a second life."
My eyes burned and I blinked back tears rapidly, but the doctor cut me off before I could say anything.
"You and your family need this, Luna. You all have been through so much in such a short time. All of you need something to inspire you right now." She put a hand on my shoulder and the tears that I'd been holding back slid freely down my face.
"There's quite a few decorations in here, window clings, some little Santa statues, a few ornaments for the tree too. It's not perfect, the branches are a little sparse in some places and the stand isn't sturdy so it wobbles a bit, but I think it'll be well received by your family anyways."
I nodded tearfully, trembling as I reached out for a hug. The doctor hesitated, before pulling me into the embrace.
She took a shaky breath, tears brimming in her eyes as well. "I have one other thing for you."
Maria pulled away, rustling through her desk. She offered a gift card to me. It wasn't a lot, only $50, but for us it was a lifeline. I reached out, but she pulled it away at the last second, giving me a stern look. "My only condition is you buy Christmas presents with it. Don't use it for a bill, or food."
I nodded as I took it from her, speechless.
"They give those away as holiday bonuses here. I don't really need it, so I'm giving it to you. Merry Christmas."
I couldn't say anything, I just sobbed into my sleeves. I tried to collect myself several times, before finally croaking out a snotty 'thank you.'
Maria looked at the clock. "I know you have work soon, but if you hurry, you might be able to go do your shopping before work."
I nearly burst into tears again.
----
It was well after dark when Matt pulled into the drive, his aging headlights painting the front of our trailer in sepia light.
I was nearly vibrating in my seat. Mercifully, the eldest Wooding brother hadn't asked me about the tote in the bed of the truck. I'd even been able to fit the presents I'd bought at the dollar store inside, so none of the siblings were aware of my plan.
I let Matt run in ahead of me, eager to get his post-work cigarette. I struggled to get the heavy plastic container out of the bed and wrestled it through the gate and up the stairs. Opening the door, I was greeted to see Kris seated on a stool washing dishes, much to Matt's displeasure.
Taking my opportunity to drag the heavy plastic bastard behind me into the house, I caught the attention of Dylan. He paused his game and rose from the couch, walking over to help me. "What's all this stuff?"
I smiled, giddy bubbles of joy in my stomach. "You'll find out. Help me move this into the hallway."
We moved the crimson tote across the house and I shooed Dylan away long enough to unload the presents in my room. Wiping my brow, I threw my hair into it's trademark ponytail and hoisted the much-less-heavy tote into my arms and back into the living room.
As I crossed the kitchen, Kris turned on her barstool and gave me a puzzled look. "What are you up to, Luna?"
I beckoned her over with a mischievous smirk, not wanting to give away my surprise.
Her eyes widened as I opened the tote, a wide smile breaking out across her face. Grabbing her crutches, she hobbled over to where I was standing and peered into the tote. Her brown eyes sparkled in the light, her mouth agape.
"Is that a Christmas tree?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Dylan walked over just as I pulled the pieces of the tree out of the tote. Matt was right behind him, kneeling beside the box and pulling out the decorations, a soft gasp escaping his lips.
I looked between the three siblings, taking in their varying expressions of delight. Their smiles were contagious, and soon we were all giggling like kids again. Kris had even managed to get on the floor next to us, scooting close to me while Dylan and Matt struggled to put the tree together.
Once the fake fir was assembled, we squabbled for a few moments over where it would look best, but ultimately decided to put it in the only bare corner of the living room. Once we placed it, Kris and I untangled the mismatched assortment of lights while the boys ran out to the dilapidated storage shed behind the house to retrieve Matt's small box of tree trimmings.
While we waited for the boys to return, I pulled Christmas music up on the tv, a video of a crackling fireplace setting the mood as cozy carols from a bygone area filled the room.
With that, we quickly got to work, stringing the lights around the tree. By the time we'd finished, I had just crawled out from underneath the plastic bush and had succeeded in plugging in the lights. There was a few that were burned out, but we rotated the tree to hide the majority of the broken lights.
As we finished, the boys came in with a water-stained box. Matt set the ruined cardboard on the chipped coffee table, we each took turns retrieving the decorations Matt had acquired from the last few years.
Slowly, the four of us meticulously pulled ornaments out of the box and hung them carefully on the tree. By the time we were done, our hand-me-down tree looked quite festive. We admired our handiwork, Kris and I relaxing on the couch. Matt was perched in the armchair while Dylan rustled around in the cabinets.
A few moments later, the redheaded boy walked into the living room carrying a tray of mismatched mugs containing a steaming liquid. As he distributed them, I caught the familiar whiff of sweet chocolate.
Dylan beamed at us, tucking a long strand of his curly hair behind his ear. "We had some Swiss Miss in the cabinet from last year., It's not expired yet, so I figured now would be a great time to enjoy it.
And enjoy it we did. It was made with water and the marshmallows were a little stale, but it was a perfect accompaniment to our merry little project. Kris glanced at me, her deep brown eyes full of emotion. "Luna, this has been incredible. How did you ever get your hands on all this stuff?"
I smiled, taking a long sip of my watery cocoa. Despite the lack of milk, it was decidedly delicious. "Dr. Morgan gave it to me. She used to decorate her office for Christmas, but she has a lot more clients now and doesn't have the time. I tried to get her to keep them, but she wouldn't take no for an answer."
Kris leaned back into the plush void of our ancient couch. "Best. Therapist. Ever."
I thought of the handful of presents in my room, waiting for me to wrap them and put them under our little tree. I smiled.
Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be so bad after all.
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