What He Never Said ✔️

chapter six • christmas

"Between the madness and the apathy, it seems there's nothing left inside of me that's good."
- Anson Seabra

"There you go." I hold Evangeline over my head, allowing her to place the angel atop the decorated Christmas tree. "Perfect. Ready to come down?"

"Ready!" she squeals, kicking her skinny legs and almost knocking my front tooth out. I place her on the floor, and she steps back to examine her handiwork.

"Looks good, right?" I ask.

She nods her head, her green eyes filled with wonder. "It's amazing."

From the kitchen, I hear Mom offer someone a homemade gingerbread cookie. I'm not surprised she made gingerbread. They're Benson's favorite. Gemma and I both prefer snickerdoodles, but we're not her Golden Boy.

Gemma materializes beside me. She says hello and then sits next to Dad on the couch, her eyes glued to the decorated tree.

"What do you think?" I inquire, eager to hear her opinion.

"It's beautiful," she replies.

"Evangeline picked out the angel." I nudge the six year-old's shoulder, recalling how it took her thirty minutes to decide which one to buy.

Evangeline smiles slightly, her emerald eyes twinkling under the light of the tree. Now that Gemma's here, she seems uneasy.

Gemma must notice, too, because she says, "Hey, Evangeline, did you know that your name is Greek for 'like an angel'?"

The six year-old shakes her head. "No, I... I didn't know that."

"When your mom was pregnant with you," my sister goes on, her lips parting into a reminiscent grin, "I helped pick out your name."

"My mom kept a picture of you on her nightstand," Evangeline says. Her voice is laced with melancholia. "I think she was sad when you stopped coming over."

"I didn't... I didn't stop, per se. I just... well, I just got really busy," Gemma stammers.

I roll my eyes. No, you weren't busy, just too self-absorbed, I think to myself.

"Evangeline, sweetheart," my mom cuts in, "what would you like for Christmas this year?"

"You can get anything you want," my dad adds. "Dolls, stuffed animals, an iPad...."

"Hey, I never got an iPad!" I exclaim.

"Me, either," Gemma grumbles.

Benson got one before he left for college, but we were never so lucky.

Mom ignores us. "We'll make sure Santa brings you everything on your wish list this year," she says to Evangeline.

"I already know Santa's not real," Evangeline announces, fiddling with a star-shaped ornament on the tree. "My mom told me last year. She said the reason the other kids got more presents than me wasn't because Santa loved them more, but because he wasn't real at all. The other parents just had more money. Then she started crying."

I bite my lip. The thought of Raelyn having to explain to her five year-old that she couldn't afford to buy her Christmas presents makes my heart ache. I can't begin to imagine how difficult that must have been, how horrible she must have felt.

"Oh, um, okay." My mom smiles, but her discomfort is palpable. "Well, what do you want us to get for you?"

"All I want for Christmas," Evangeline murmurs, "is to see my mom again."