Holly sat quietly beside me in the bright gold dress that Brandon had spent twenty minutes steaming before we left our house in Spokane. Her black leather shoes were tucked neatly beneath her dining chair, and both of her small hands were folded tightly in her lap. Right before we stepped onto the front porch, Brandon had knelt down in the snow, wiped a tiny scuff off her right shoe, and whispered, “My sweet girl deserves at least one holiday where she feels completely chosen.”
Gene had spent the last three solid years ensuring that Holly felt the exact opposite.
For illustration purposes only
Holly was my child from my previous marriage, but my husband Brandon had never once treated that fact like a secondary footnote in our family dynamic. He packed her school lunches every single morning, knew precisely which stuffed floppy eared rabbit had to face her bedroom door at night, and could instantly tell the difference between her genuine, joyful laugh and the careful, timid chuckle she used around adults who made her feel nervous or unwanted.
Gene, on the other hand, refused to ever address Holly as her official granddaughter.
She insisted on calling her Brandon’s girl, your child, or that sweet little holiday visitor. It was always structured so Holly felt almost like family, but never truly family.
At exactly eight forty seven on Christmas morning, Gene began distributing gifts with the theatrical importance of an archbishop conducting a solemn mass. The oldest cousin unwrapped a glossy new iPad and squealed with delight, while another grandkid opened an identical tablet. The older teenagers pulled thick stacks of hundred dollar bills out of shiny holiday greeting cards.
Then Gene slowly turned her cold eyes toward Holly.
“Oh, look at that, it is little Holly,” Gene said, her voice dripping with performative sweetness.
She reached behind her ornate armchair and pulled out a flimsy paper drugstore gift bag with a severely crooked red bow dangling off the handle. “This is for you, sweetheart, because I certainly did not want you to feel totally left out of the morning.”
