Being away from my family for the first time during the holidays is rough. I want to send Momma a really nice anonymous gift. Nothing like a Crockpot or Chia Pet. More like a ruby necklace because it’s her birthstone, but I’m afraid Daddy might get suspicious and turn it over to the FBI. I can’t send it from “Tara Sue,” because Momma will want to return the favor, and “Tara Sue” doesn’t have an address anywhere near Dalhart. I’d like to buy Daddy something for his truck, but why would the girl of Momma’s third cousin twice removed send a gift to a man she’s never met? I remind myself that it won’t be long now until I see them in person and that that will be better than a Crockpot and jumper cables.
I spend Christmas day at Hawthorne, and the place is decorated beyond belief. It’s like every rich house in every Christmas movie all rolled into one. The usual suspects come, and we all toast each other. Old Edie peppers me with questions I can’t answer, and Harold looks even shorter.
I keep expecting Oliver to walk through the door, but after Claire’s fabulously planned dinner, he’s still a no-show. I guess he hasn’t been thinking about kissing me under the mistletoe.
We gather around a huge tree that looks like Martha Stewart decorated it herself. Claire and Marv give me a gift of online business classes. At first, I’m a bit surprised. I was going to get my cosmetology license first, but I realize it’s their sign of approval. It’s not the type of sign I’m used to. Not a celebration at the Dairy Queen, or a big bear hug, but they’re not Momma or Daddy. I can’t judge them by what I’m used to.
I can go to cosmetology school and take online classes at the same time. I hadn’t thought of doing that, but it means I can open Shear Elegance earlier than I’d hoped.
Meredith and Burton give me books on pet care, Michigan scenery, and Southern poems. Burton even thanks me for being a good aunt. Out of everything, I’m most grateful for that.
What do you buy for people who have so much money that they have everything? Rowan and Georgie are easy, but just thinking of the others is stressful. In the end, I don’t buy them anything. I give them art from the penthouse. Edie’s tastes aren’t mine, and I might as well start getting rid of the stuff. I’ll come back for my monthly appointments for a while yet. My left hand is still in the metal splint and the occupational therapist tells me I’m showing progress, although even when I’m 100 percent, I’ll want to come back to Michigan for special occasions. I’ll bring cow skulls to brighten up the penthouse, although I don’t know how much I can be here once I start beauty school.
I pulled the contemporary painting from the wall in the entertainment room and wrapped it up for Burton and Meredith. It suits them more than me, but they say they can’t accept a thirty-thousand-dollar piece of art.
“That thing is thirty thousand?” I point to the canvas of dripping paint and burst out laughing.
For Claire and Marv, I wrap up a vase made of bronze that has two headless men on each side. The artist hadn’t bothered with arms either, but he did give painstaking detail to each penis. It’s ugly as all git-out.
Marv and Claire react the same as Burton and Meredith. They say it’s too extravagant, which is funny given that they basically live in an extravagant museum. “I don’t like it, and I know you like flower vases in about every room,” I say.
Later when I’m back at the penthouse, all alone and looking downward at the city wrapped in snow and Christmas lights, I think about Oliver. I know I shouldn’t be disappointed that he didn’t show. He never said he’d meet me under the mistletoe. He didn’t live up to my expectations, but it’s my fault for always thinking people feel the same things I feel.
I’m young. I’m lonely. I need to get out. I’ve focused too much of my pent-up lust on Oliver when that is the exact opposite of what I should be doing. For one, an affair with him could blow up and make things worse between us. Two, I don’t want to start something if I’m not going to be around enough to enjoy it.
I spend the week between Christmas and New Year’s looking hot and going out. There is no shortage of bars and good-looking men, and I flirt and smile and size them up as they look me over at the same time. I don’t have time for a boyfriend, but I can make time for a one-nighter. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt a man’s hands and mouth on me. This time I’m not looking for love or a commitment past sunrise.
I let a few men kiss me and am reminded of how much I like it. Desire tugs at my insides, but I always go home alone. One night I drink too much tequila and follow a handsome bartender when he takes a break. He makes me feel good, and I think I want a quick orgasm to take the edge off, but once his hands tug at my skirt, I discover that it isn’t what I want. I’m not looking for love, but I don’t want a wham-bam on a beer keg, either.
I don’t know what I want. I’m physically in Michigan but my heart is in Texas. I can’t stay as long as I’d like, but I can’t wait to go home. I figure I’ll leave the day after my appointment with Doc Barb on January fourth and be back in Detroit for an appointment with Dr. Graham on the fourteenth, when I can hopefully trade in the metal splint for a wrist support made of neoprene and Velcro.
I book a round-trip flight to Midland for January sixth through the twelfth. I’m staying in the Rock Hudson suite at the Paisano hotel in Marfa, because it’s bigger than the Elizabeth Taylor suite, and less like a regular room like the James Dean. Then I call the Do or Dye and make an appointment with Carla Jean for Friday the seventh.
No one will know who I am in Marfa, either. I’d originally thought I’d turn up as Tara Sue. It sounded like such a good plan in November, but if a third cousin twice removed shows up from Dalhart, Momma will want to introduce me to the rest of my long-lost kin.
I have a new plan now. Since I can’t show up as a relative without the whole family picking apart my story, I’ll go as myself, Edie Chatsworth-Jones. I’ll charm the pants off Momma and Daddy and they’ll fall in love with me. I’ll have to fly back and forth for a while, and it’ll take longer to win them over. I figure we’ll start out as friends, but Momma’s heart will recognize mine, and she and Daddy will come to think of me as family.
Marv and Claire are leaving for Florida the day after the big New Year’s Eve party. No one will even know I’m gone before I’m back. I like this new plan.
When I arrive at Hawthorne on New Year’s Eve night, the whole place is bedazzled in gold.
It sparkles and shines both inside and out and reminds me of the movie Crazy Rich Asians. Everything from the little petit fours with New Beginnings written on them to the floral arrangements are amazing. I fit right in with my flashy gold sequin dress. For the first time, I’m wearing little spaghetti straps instead of long sleeves. If anyone asks about my splint, Claire has advised me to say I had surgery for carpal tunnel.
At first glance, my dress looks a bit risqué. It’s not the neckline or the length. It’s that I can be mistaken for naked. The 3D floral sequins are sewn to fine mesh and the backing is the same color as my skin. It was one of
the dresses that Arianna brought to the penthouse for me to choose from, and we paired it with beige Prada pumps. My hair is brushed into a classic French twist on the back of my head.
Throughout the evening, I perform my cohostess duties without incident, but I know that most of the guests are puzzled by my accent and lack of memory. I’m introduced to people I’m supposed to know, but I’m used to it now and just smile. Except for Burton and Meredith and a few trophy wives, most of the guests are Marv and Claire’s age. Like any good hostess, I chat about the weather and entertain with tales of living in downtown Detroit. I talk about people slipping and sliding all over the place like they don’t know what to do in snow.
“The wind started wrappin’ that scarf around her face tight as a mummy,” I tell a middle-aged tycoon and his much younger wife. “And she walked right into a lamppost, bless her heart.” She talks about the 2014 blizzard, and just as he’s telling me of record-high snowfalls, I raise my gaze and notice Oliver standing by the marble fireplace, where his parents are chatting with mine. I don’t know when he arrived, but the last time I looked up, he wasn’t standing there. He’s wearing a blue dress shirt and khaki pants and his tie is pulled loose around his neck like he’s been out having fun somewhere else. It’s about ten minutes until midnight and I wonder why he’s bothered to come at all.
I met Tom and Ann Hunt earlier, and they seem nice enough, but a little apprehensive, as if waiting for the old me to pop out like a demon. I don’t blame them, given the past, but someday people need to relax.
I excuse myself and move toward our latest guest. I am the cohostess and it’s part of my duties, but as I get closer, I can see both sets of parents get stiff like they’re holding their breath in nervous anticipation. I guess that someday isn’t today.
“Hello, Oliver.” I lean in and give his cheek an air-kiss. He smells like crisp air and man soap.
“Sunshine.” His green gaze takes me in with one quick glance. “How was your Christmas?”