Liv Constantine - The Last Mrs. Parrish

For the past ten years, Christmas had been nothing more than an obscene display of consumption. We didn’t go to church. Jackson was an atheist and refused to expose our children to what he called “a fairy tale.” But he had no problem perpetuating the Santa myth. I had stopped trying to reason with him.

I did take pleasure in the girls’ enjoyment. They loved the decorating, baking, and sights and sounds of the season. This year, I had another reason to be excited. I had Amber. I had to hold myself back from showering her with too many presents. I didn’t want to embarrass her. There was something about her that made me want to take care of her, to give her all the things she never had. It was almost like I was giving Julie all the things she’d never lived to enjoy.

We got up before the girls and went down to have our coffee. It wasn’t long before they swept in, little tornados attacking the mountains of gifts with glee, and yet again I worried at the message we were sending them.

“Mommy, aren’t you going to open any presents?” Tallulah asked.

“Yeah, Mommy. Open a present,” Bella chimed in. Mine were stacked in a tall pile — beautifully decorated in gold foil and elaborate red velvet ribbons. I knew what the boxes would contain — more designer outfits that he’d chosen, jewelry to show off how good he was to me, expensive perfume that he liked, none of the things I would have picked for myself. Nothing at all that I wanted.

We had both agreed that the children’s presents to us would be handmade, though, and I was looking forward to that.

“Open mine first, Mommy,” Bella said. She dropped the half-unwrapped package she had been opening and ran over to me.

“Which is yours, sweetie?” I asked.

She pointed to the only package covered in Santa paper. “We wrapped it special so it’d be easy to spot,” she said proudly.

I tousled her curls as she handed it to me, smiling as she perched on tiptoes, watching me wide-eyed. “Can I open it for you?”

I laughed. “Of course.”

She ripped the paper and threw it on the floor, then pulled the lid off the box and gave it back to me.

It was a painting — a family portrait. It was quite good. I hadn’t realized what a sharp eye she had.

“Bella! It’s amazing. When did you do this?”

“In school. My teacher said I have talent. Mine was the best one. You couldn’t even tell what most of the others were. She’s going to talk to you about art classes for me.”

The picture was twelve by twelve, and it was painted in watercolors. We were all standing on the beach, the ocean behind us, Jackson in the middle with me on one side and Tallulah on the other. Bella stood across from the three of us, noticeably larger than we were. Jackson, Tallulah, and I were dressed in drab grays and whites, Bella in bright oranges, pinks, and reds. Jackson and Tallulah were both turned, looking at me, Tallulah looking glum, Jackson smug, and I was staring at Bella with a wide smile. The picture unsettled me. It didn’t take a psychologist to figure out that the family dynamics were off-kilter. I shook off the troubling thoughts and pulled her to me for a hug.

“It’s beautiful, and I love it. I’m going to hang it in my office so I can look at it all day.”

Tallulah looked over. “Why are you so much bigger than the rest of us?”

Bella stuck her tongue out at her sister. “It’s called pesperective,” she said, stumbling on the word.

Jackson laughed. “I think you mean perspective, my dear.”

Tallulah rolled her eyes and brought me her present. “Open mine now.”

It was a clay sculpture that she’d made of two hearts united with a ribbon, on which she’d painted the word love .

“It’s you and Aunt Julie,” she said.

My eyes filled with tears. “I love this, darling. It’s perfect.”

She smiled and embraced me. “I know sometimes you get sad. But your hearts will always be together.”

I was so grateful for this thoughtful child.

“Open one of mine,” Jackson said as he handed me a small box wrapped in red foil.

“Thank you.” I took the package from him and began tearing the paper to reveal a plain white box, then lifted the lid to find a gold chain with a gold circle charm attached. I pulled it from the box and gasped.

Tallulah took the necklace from my hand and looked at it and then at me. “Who’s YMB, Mommy?”

Before I could find my voice, Jackson spoke, the lie coming smoothly off his lips. “They’re the initials of your mom’s grandmother, who she loved very much. Let me put it on for you.” He fastened it around my neck. “I hope you’ll wear it all the time.”

I gave him a big smile that he would know was fake. “Just another reminder of how you feel about me.”

He pressed his lips to mine.

“Eeew!” Tallulah said, and both girls giggled.

Bella had gone back to her pile of presents and was tearing through the rest of the packages when the doorbell rang.

Jackson had agreed to let Amber come over and have dinner with us, since she was going to be alone for Christmas. It hadn’t been easy, but I staged the conversation in front of some of our friends, and he wanted to look like the Good Samaritan by including her.

He greeted her like she was family, got her a drink, and we all sat around very agreeably for the next few hours, while the children played with their things and we made small talk.

Amber gave us all lovely gifts — a book for Jackson that he actually seemed to appreciate; books for the girls plus some shiny jewelry for Bella, which she loved. When she handed me my gift, I was a little nervous, hoping she hadn’t spent too much. Nothing could have prepared me for the thin silver bangle, with two round charms engraved with the names Julie and Charlene.

“Amber, this is so thoughtful and beautiful.”

She held her arm up, and I saw that she wore the same bracelet. “I have one too. Now our sisters will be with us all the time.”

Jackson was watching the exchange, and I could see the anger in his eyes. He was always telling me I thought about Julie too much as it was. But even Jackson couldn’t take my joy away. Two gifts that honored my sister and the love I felt for her. I felt heard and understood for the first time in so long.

“Oh, and one other little thing.” She handed me a small gift bag.

“Another present? The bracelet was enough.”

I pushed aside the tissue paper and felt something hard. My breath caught in my throat as I lifted it from the bag. A glass turtle.

“I know how much you love them,” she said.

Jackson’s lips curled into a smile, and delight shone in his eyes.

And just like that, my feeling of being known and understood evaporated.

Meredith was throwing her husband a surprise fiftieth birthday party at Benjamin Steakhouse. Truthfully, it was the last thing I was in the mood for. I was still tired from all the Christmas preparations and we were leaving for St. Bart’s in two days, but I didn’t want to let Meredith down. She was insistent that the party be on the twenty-seventh, Rand’s actual birthday, since over the years it had always been underplayed due to its proximity to Christmas.

I’d just arrived in the city; Jackson had asked me to meet him at the Oyster Bar at Grand Central. That way, we’d be right down the street from the restaurant, and it would only take us a few minutes to walk there.

Even as I put on the Dior dress, I knew I was making a mistake. It was a favorite of mine, but Jackson didn’t like the color. It was a pale gold silk, and he claimed it made my skin sallow. But it was a party for my friend, and I wanted to make a decision for a change. The moment I saw his face, the barely perceptible furrow of the brow, the small wrinkle worrying between his eyes, I knew he was angry. He stood to kiss me, and I took a seat on the stool next to him. He picked up the crystal tumbler and, with one flick of his wrist, downed the remaining amber liquid and flagged the bartender over.