Chapter 23

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Christmas day I creaked and moaned since my body ached. I swore I could feel the English ivy tattoo heavy on my skin. I even had to take out the eyebrow ring before it pulled my forehead to my chin. Ricky, in contrast, jumped out of bed raring to go. I would have thought guys in their early twenties would be immune to the idea of Santa. Apparently, I was wrong.

Fortunately, we’d agreed to have dinner and the unwrapping of presents in my living room and not John’s, so I didn’t have to try getting downstairs.

My mother presided over the table like a queen and we her minions. Mom preened while we shoveled down food as if we hadn’t seen the stuff in years. We complimented her on the meal and on the knit goods, wearing our hats and scarves as we opened the rest of our gifts. She loved the cookbook from John, vowing to make us a better meal next year and insisting John help. And she cried when she unwrapped the pot Ricky had decorated for her at the nursery.