Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

Abstract

too early in the morning. Christmas Eve is a huge deal with my dad’s side of the family. They spend all day together, and it always felt like the true celebration, not the quieter Christmas Days we spent apart. I don’t know if I’m ready to spend all day with a group of people who lied to me.But being with Grayson yesterday, talking to him, realizing someone cares about me, has given me a dose of courage I feel drunk on. My mind lingers on the small space at the edge of my shoulder where I know Grayson’s lips have touched me. I run a finger from shoulder to neck to cheek, tracing backward the path his breath left against my skin, and wonder what it would be like to have his lips against me somewhere else.Grayson makes me feel like I belong in Bend. Now all I need is to find a way to belong with my family, too. I get ready and start downstairs, but Liam races up to meet me. “ADAYA, IT IS CHRISTMAS!!” he screams as he approaches, sending me a huge grin as he takes my hand in his. “Come on! Do you know how much there is to do on Christmas? Because it’s a lot. A very lot. You need to be downstairs!”I amend the list I was keeping. Grayson makes me feel like I belong here, but so does Liam. Absolutely. Unequivocally. “What all do we have to do on Christmas?” I ask him. Maybe his list will remind me what I need to do to fit in.“First, there are cinnamon rolls to eat. And Mom made ours with extra icing this year!” He hops with too much gusto down the stairs, then on one leg through the family room for no other reason than he can. He stops at the far side when I haven’t kept pace, shifting dramatically from side to side, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Mine was really good, but yours will probably be cold.”“I can heat it up,” I say as I reach him, and Liam’s eyes light up as he catapults us toward the kitchen. “What else do we have to do?”“There is SO MUCH SINGING, Adaya. Have you heard how much singing we have planned? Because it’s a lot. And then Mom said we could watch two movies if we want to, and maybe three, and we get to stay up so late and go to church and Mom says Jesus has to do with something, but I stopped listening after she said we’d get candy canes.”“It sounds like we’re going to have an amazing day,” I say as I grab a cinnamon roll and put it on a plate to heat up. Like he promised, they’re cold as can be now. But it’s fine. The cinnamon roll will taste good as new once I’ve warmed it.Liam ditches me at the table when he realizes I don’t plan to do anything but eat. I don’t blame him. I’m sitting alone, since everyone else has already eaten, wishing once again there were some teenagers in this house so I wouldn’t be so entirely an outlier.When Meghan comes into the kitchen, I look up and smile at her. She slides in across from me at the table. “Liam sure has taken to you, Adaya. I’m glad he has someone he can look up to.”“Thanks,” I say when my mouth is empty. “He’s adorable. I love how happy he is about everything Christmas. It’s… well, it’s very nearly contagious.”She reaches for her mimosa and takes a sip. “Do you not like celebrating Christmas? What do you and your mom usually do?”Part of me wonders if she’s prying, but her eyes are kind, her attention on

Options

me. I don’t get someone my age, but Meghan’s proving there’s at least someone in this family I can talk to. “It’s different being without her, even though our Christmases are quiet. Fake tree, church before dinner on Christmas Eve. We watch Hallmark movies together and then read new books we got each other.”“No big meal? No huge gathering?” Her eyes are wide, and her mouth doesn’t quite finish closing when she’s done talking.“Mom doesn’t have any family left in California. We always made it work, though. And sometimes I’d Skype with Dad.” I take a huge bite of my cinnamon roll, so I have time before I say anything else. Feeling like I belong here has made me brave. Even if it still means coming at this sideways. “What was it like at Christmas when you were my age? Before anyone grew up and got married? I’m sure it was quieter.”She takes a long drink of her mimosa, not looking at me. I wonder how much of this secret is a choice. Did they all sit down one day, throw a ribbon across the past and decide they’d never unwrap it? Or did the secret sneak up on them, day after day after year, until the dust got so thick no one could do anything about it?When she’s swallowed, she speaks again, but I can’t get her to look at me. “About like it is now, I guess. Fewer people, of course. And the white elephant gift exchange is new. We were all pretty close in age, your — my cousins and siblings and me. By the time we were teenagers, we drew names on Thanksgiving and bought a present for just one other person. I liked that tradition.”It’s now or never, I decide. “Did you ever draw my brother’s name? What would he ask for?”She stumbles over her words first, and swears second. “How did you — ”“Dad told me,” I say. Which is true. Eventually.But she must know my dad well, because she raises an eyebrow at me.“Okay, Pastor Clark told me I looked like Brennan when I was practicing before the funeral. Dad finally told me it was true a couple of days ago. I wouldn’t leave him alone about it.”My cousin leans back in her chair, far away from me. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, but I don’t think she’s going to say anything.“What I can’t wrap my mind around is why no one ever mentions him.”I can practically see the scripts running through her mind of a million different things she could say to me, probably with varying degrees of truth. When she answers, she looks down, tracing the uneven grain of the table. “Trust me, Adaya. This isn’t the time. Don’t bring it up again today. You have to accept that some things are too hard to talk about.”“Even years later? Even to people who deserve to hear the truth?”“Even then,” she says definitively. Then she swigs the last of her second mimosa since this conversation started and gets up for another.The quiet of the kitchen is overwhelmed by a child plucking haphazardly at the piano. Meghan jumps at the noise and champagne sloshes out of the glass she was filling. Without a word, she grabs a towel and cleans up the mess. Then she refills her drink and walks away like nothing happened.<a href="https://readmedium.com/chapter-18-30f4ef6cae74">Click here</a> to continue the story!</article></body>

Accidental Notes: A Novel

Chapter 17

Illuminating the Cracks

Accidental Notes, a novel. Cover by Rochelle Deans via Canva.

Not sure what this story is? The synopsis is available here.

Catch up on chapter 16 here.

All I want to do when I leave Grayson’s house is text Riley. I sent her a message hours ago, after the accident, and she still hasn’t responded, which is unlike her. A wave of guilt washes over me when I open her messages, though. It wasn’t that she never texted back. I muted her yesterday when I was cleaning and forgot to unmute her chat. When I texted by the side of the road, I hardly had enough sense to type, let alone read.

So the whole walk back between the trees, that’s what I do.

Adaya: omg I forgot to check my phone after I texted earlier

Riley: it’s fine I’ve only replayed 98 different ways you ended up in the hospital after an accident, even when you said you made it out okay.

Adaya: I’m so sorry. Really. It’s been a lot.

Adaya: I’m fine. Dad’s fine. Even the truck is fine.

Adaya: You didn’t text my mom, did you?

Riley: Not yet, but you better believe if by tomorrow…

Adaya: Yeah, I know. I don’t blame you. But I have a way to make it up to you.

Riley: [big eyes emoji]

Adaya: I’m pretty sure I owe you a million details about the boy from fourth grade.

Riley: THE ONE WITH THE DOG???

And just like that, I know I’m forgiven. Even if I shouldn’t be.

I go to sleep way too late after spending most of my day and all of my evening texting Riley about everything that did and did not happen in Grayson’s room. But nothing changes the fact that Christmas Eve arrives in the middle of our conversation, and it’s the first one I’ve ever spent without my mom.

My family feels more fractured than ever, even though it split apart five years ago. I wonder if part of growing up isn’t so much things breaking as it is illuminating the cracks, slipping into them, trying to fill them up or bury them. But Mom being in a different state on Christmas Eve, both literally and with how she hasn’t been herself, is the worst part of all. I don’t know where I belong. I want to ask her, but it isn’t something she’ll answer.

She’s lied to me as long as Dad has. In the haste of the Christmas we spent moving, she told me she had a job offer she had to accept quickly or she wouldn’t get it. I don’t believe her anymore, but the chasm between knowing something is a lie and knowing the truth juts in a crooked line all the way from here to Santa Monica.

So Christmas Eve rings in, with Grayson nearby but too far away, and Riley in my texts and Mom in California and Dad across the hall from me. No one is close enough, I think over and over again until I finally fall asleep.

People trickle in far too early in the morning. Christmas Eve is a huge deal with my dad’s side of the family. They spend all day together, and it always felt like the true celebration, not the quieter Christmas Days we spent apart. I don’t know if I’m ready to spend all day with a group of people who lied to me.

But being with Grayson yesterday, talking to him, realizing someone cares about me, has given me a dose of courage I feel drunk on. My mind lingers on the small space at the edge of my shoulder where I know Grayson’s lips have touched me. I run a finger from shoulder to neck to cheek, tracing backward the path his breath left against my skin, and wonder what it would be like to have his lips against me somewhere else.

Grayson makes me feel like I belong in Bend. Now all I need is to find a way to belong with my family, too. I get ready and start downstairs, but Liam races up to meet me. “ADAYA, IT IS CHRISTMAS!!” he screams as he approaches, sending me a huge grin as he takes my hand in his. “Come on! Do you know how much there is to do on Christmas? Because it’s a lot. A very lot. You need to be downstairs!”

I amend the list I was keeping. Grayson makes me feel like I belong here, but so does Liam. Absolutely. Unequivocally. “What all do we have to do on Christmas?” I ask him. Maybe his list will remind me what I need to do to fit in.

“First, there are cinnamon rolls to eat. And Mom made ours with extra icing this year!” He hops with too much gusto down the stairs, then on one leg through the family room for no other reason than he can. He stops at the far side when I haven’t kept pace, shifting dramatically from side to side, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Mine was really good, but yours will probably be cold.”

“I can heat it up,” I say as I reach him, and Liam’s eyes light up as he catapults us toward the kitchen. “What else do we have to do?”

“There is SO MUCH SINGING, Adaya. Have you heard how much singing we have planned? Because it’s a lot. And then Mom said we could watch two movies if we want to, and maybe three, and we get to stay up so late and go to church and Mom says Jesus has to do with something, but I stopped listening after she said we’d get candy canes.”

“It sounds like we’re going to have an amazing day,” I say as I grab a cinnamon roll and put it on a plate to heat up. Like he promised, they’re cold as can be now. But it’s fine. The cinnamon roll will taste good as new once I’ve warmed it.

Liam ditches me at the table when he realizes I don’t plan to do anything but eat. I don’t blame him. I’m sitting alone, since everyone else has already eaten, wishing once again there were some teenagers in this house so I wouldn’t be so entirely an outlier.

When Meghan comes into the kitchen, I look up and smile at her. She slides in across from me at the table. “Liam sure has taken to you, Adaya. I’m glad he has someone he can look up to.”

“Thanks,” I say when my mouth is empty. “He’s adorable. I love how happy he is about everything Christmas. It’s… well, it’s very nearly contagious.”

She reaches for her mimosa and takes a sip. “Do you not like celebrating Christmas? What do you and your mom usually do?”

Part of me wonders if she’s prying, but her eyes are kind, her attention on me. I don’t get someone my age, but Meghan’s proving there’s at least someone in this family I can talk to. “It’s different being without her, even though our Christmases are quiet. Fake tree, church before dinner on Christmas Eve. We watch Hallmark movies together and then read new books we got each other.”

“No big meal? No huge gathering?” Her eyes are wide, and her mouth doesn’t quite finish closing when she’s done talking.

“Mom doesn’t have any family left in California. We always made it work, though. And sometimes I’d Skype with Dad.” I take a huge bite of my cinnamon roll, so I have time before I say anything else. Feeling like I belong here has made me brave. Even if it still means coming at this sideways. “What was it like at Christmas when you were my age? Before anyone grew up and got married? I’m sure it was quieter.”

She takes a long drink of her mimosa, not looking at me. I wonder how much of this secret is a choice. Did they all sit down one day, throw a ribbon across the past and decide they’d never unwrap it? Or did the secret sneak up on them, day after day after year, until the dust got so thick no one could do anything about it?

When she’s swallowed, she speaks again, but I can’t get her to look at me. “About like it is now, I guess. Fewer people, of course. And the white elephant gift exchange is new. We were all pretty close in age, your — my cousins and siblings and me. By the time we were teenagers, we drew names on Thanksgiving and bought a present for just one other person. I liked that tradition.”

It’s now or never, I decide. “Did you ever draw my brother’s name? What would he ask for?”

She stumbles over her words first, and swears second. “How did you — ”

“Dad told me,” I say. Which is true. Eventually.

But she must know my dad well, because she raises an eyebrow at me.

“Okay, Pastor Clark told me I looked like Brennan when I was practicing before the funeral. Dad finally told me it was true a couple of days ago. I wouldn’t leave him alone about it.”

My cousin leans back in her chair, far away from me. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, but I don’t think she’s going to say anything.

“What I can’t wrap my mind around is why no one ever mentions him.”

I can practically see the scripts running through her mind of a million different things she could say to me, probably with varying degrees of truth. When she answers, she looks down, tracing the uneven grain of the table. “Trust me, Adaya. This isn’t the time. Don’t bring it up again today. You have to accept that some things are too hard to talk about.”

“Even years later? Even to people who deserve to hear the truth?”

“Even then,” she says definitively. Then she swigs the last of her second mimosa since this conversation started and gets up for another.

The quiet of the kitchen is overwhelmed by a child plucking haphazardly at the piano. Meghan jumps at the noise and champagne sloshes out of the glass she was filling. Without a word, she grabs a towel and cleans up the mess. Then she refills her drink and walks away like nothing happened.

Click here to continue the story!