Joe Keery Imagines

Blue Christmas Without You-Joe Keery

Christmas is known as the happiest time of the year. It's known as the time of year when you get to spend it with the people you love. Usually, it is. Not this year.

This year was the first Christmas without my mom. She died just after last Christmas and ever since then my dad has been disconnected. After she died, it seemed that he made a New Year resolution that he was going to focus only on my life.

Not like any father would. Instead, he became obsessed with making sure that my life was perfect. The perfect degree. The perfect job. The perfect house. The perfect husband.

Well, I have a degree in English Literature-not perfect. I work from home for an online magazine–not perfect in my father's eyes. I have a small apartment–nowhere near perfect enough for my father. And my boyfriend is an actor who is constantly working and I rarely see–absolutely not perfect. Not even ideal.

Before my mother died, my father loved Joe. After she died, he thought I deserved someone who could take better care of me. I instantly reassured my father that Joe takes wonderful care of me, but over the months, I started to wonder if that were true.

I checked the clock on my wall, my heart doing flips. This was the time that we had agreed to call each other, but Joe wasn't answering. When Joe started filming Stranger Things in Atlanta, we agreed that every Monday night we would call each other and talk.

This was the first Monday in three months that Joe didn't answer our call. And out of all the Mondays we've done this, I've never needed him to answer the call more.

"Please," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Please answer the phone, Joe."

My heart sank into my stomach and a sob got stuck in my throat when I began hearing the automated voicemail.

"Hey," I said shakily. "It's our Monday night call. Umm. . . I know you're probably busy, but I really need to talk to you. Please call me back."

I hung up the phone and tossed it onto the cushion next to me. I didn't bother holding back the sob I was barely holding back during the call. I tucked my knees into my chest and leaned my forehead on my knee as I sobbed.

I fell asleep on the couch with dried tears on my face. When I woke up the next morning, I instantly felt like crying again. There were so many things that I needed to talk to him about and him not answering, not even calling me back or sending me a text, hurt more than it should.

I numbly got up and started getting ready for the day. I took a shower. Made breakfast. And sat down at my computer to write. I had a list of topics to write about but nothing came to mind.

I slammed my laptop closed as another wave of frustration hit me. I put my head in my hands and struggled to hold back another sob. I jumped when my phone started ringing again. I ran to it and couldn't help getting a little disappointed when I saw it wasn't Joe.

"Hey, dad."

"What's wrong?" He practically accused.

"I'm just tired," I stuttered. "With the anniversary of Mom. . ."

"Don't!" He yelled. I pulled the phone away from my ear and held my breath. When I put it back, his voice was completely normal.

"How's work?"

"It's good," I said slowly. "I'm working on an article right now about. . ."

"That's stupid," he cut me off. "You shouldn't be living article by article."

"I'm not doing that," I whispered.

"You need a career, Y/N, not a hobby. Something you can live off of considering that boyfriend of yours won't be able to."