Christmas Secrets: A Short Story Read online

  Christmas Secrets

  A Black Family Christmas

  J. Nichole

  Contents

  Title Page

  J. Nichole Newsletter

  1. Denise the Drunk

  2. Friendly Neighbor

  3. Kissing Cousins

  4. Reunited

  ✩✩✩✩✩

  Also by J. Nichole

  About the Author

  Christmas Secrets

  A Black Family Christmas

  By J. Nichole

  Not the Last Page

  www.notthelastpage.com

  Copyright © 2017 by J. Nichole

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  J. Nichole Newsletter

  I’d love to keep in contact with you, and if you feel the same, join my newsletter.

  www.NotTheLastPage.com/by-jnichole

  Dedication

  The holidays are a special time of year. Christmas brings about spending time with family and friends, and joy from the simplest of things. Curling up with a cup of hot chocolate, watching Christmas movies, and baking delicious desserts. For the black family, Christmas for some can also be the most entertaining time of year. One of the few times of the year when the entire family comes together, and with that reunion comes drama. This book is for anyone who has experienced, and survived, a Black Family Christmas. It’s also for those who spend time after Halloween till Christmas watching Hallmark Christmas movies thinking, ‘This would never happen during our Christmas celebrations.’

  Chapter One

  Denise the Drunk

  “Corrine, girl is that you?” My Aunt Denise, with her hands on her hips, looks at me with the door wide open. “Guess you aren’t living like most college students. Looks like you are eating very well,” she says as she looks me over, staring at my expanding hips.

  James stands beside me, waiting for an introduction or entry into the house. “Auntie Denise,” I say, looking at her and James. “This is James.” She turns to him and smacks her lips. “Are you going to let us in or have us standing in the cold all day?”

  “Denise,” I hear someone yelling from inside the house. “Let those kids in this house and stop acting crazy.”

  I grab James by the wrist and pull him into the house past Aunt Denise, who is still standing in the doorway. After we throw our small duffle bags inside the coat closet, we make our way to the kitchen where I smell the familiar scent of homemade biscuits.

  Memaw is standing over the island whipping a mixture in a bowl. “Corrine,” she says. With her arms wide open I walk into her embrace and take in the smell of the herbs and spices she’s probably been cooking with all morning. “I’m glad you made it.” She pushes me aside and reaches out for James. “And this handsome young man. Come here honey, and give me a hug.” James walks into Memaw’s arms and they hug for just as long as she and I did. His head towers over hers and his muscular arms wrap around her frail body, causing it to disappear. But she isn’t the least bit intimidated by his size.

  James and I traveled in this morning to spend Christmas with my family. This is the first time I’ve ever brought a guy home for the holidays. The first time I’ve ever brought a guy home from college. When my grandmother releases James, she looks at the both of us and says, “You two look good together.” After wriggling her eyebrows, she returns to the bowl to continue mixing.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Dean.” I quickly look between my grandmother and James and cringe when I hear my grandmother intake her breath. Last names in my family are confusing, and although my grandfather is Duncan Dean, my grandmother never took his last name.

  Thankfully for James, my grandmother ignores his mishap. “Dean,” I hear from behind us. I’m reminded that there is always someone willing to burst a bubble in this family. Aunt Denise sits at the island in front of us. “Mama ain’t never been a Dean.”

  James looks to me and then says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean any disrespect.” Again my aunt smacks her lips, but my grandmother swats at her arm. With a swig of her drink, which I’m sure is more than juice, although it’s not even noon yet, my Aunt Denise leans against the counter and asks, “How long do we have to wait on everyone before we can have breakfast?”

  Christmas day at my grandmother’s house is a full-day event. As a family, we eat breakfast together, lounge around and watch movies all day, then end the evening with Christmas dinner. With all of my aunts chipping in to help my grandmother cook her specialty recipes, it’s a long day for most of us.

  “I’m going to give James a tour around the house before everyone gets here,” I say to my grandmother.

  “Good idea, Corrine,” my grandmother replies.

  Walking into the living room, I point out different photos of the family. Through my grandmother’s pictures, you can chronicle the family through the years. “I thought your family name was Dean,” James says behind me as he glances at a picture of my aunts standing side-by-side on the mantel of the fireplace.

  “My grandfather’s last name is Dean, but even when they were married, my grandmother never carried his name.”

  “When they were married?” James leans on the fireplace and looks at me cautiously. “I think you left out some details about your family on our way up here.” In the four-hour car ride from Florida to Atlanta, I tried to explain my family dynamics to James so the things that would inevitably happen throughout the day wouldn’t shock him. I harped on the things that would be shocking to most and left out the more mundane facts of the family, like my grandparent's divorce. “Didn’t you say your grandfather would be here today,” he asks.

  I nod my head to James and wait for all of his questions to stop shooting out of his mouth. When he stops speaking, I say, “They’ve been divorced for years, but for the holidays they like to act cordial so we can all spend the day together.” James nods his head as he tries to piece what he hears together.

  As we move into the covered porch, I point out the trees in the backyard. “See that tree there?” James looks out into the yard. “I was somewhat of a tomboy growing up and would climb that tree and sit on that branch for hours.”

  “You, a tomboy?” I nod my head slowly as I remember how I would run for hours with my boy cousins, screaming and laughing with no regrets. James places his hand on my shoulder. “I wouldn’t be able to guess that now.” With my face fully made and my nails manicured, my dress snug against my body, I couldn’t climb that tree if I wanted to.

  I grab his hand from my shoulder and guide him up the stairs. “Where do you think y’all going?” Aunt Denise asks from behind us. I turn around and see her sitting on the couch leaning forward over her drink. “I know what happens these days. Y’all kids,” she hiccups before finishing, “be hunching.” James coughs to cover his laugh.

  We con
tinue making our way up the stairs and I point out the bedrooms before stopping outside the room where I usually sleep with my cousin, Kenya. Tonight, James and I may be better off getting a hotel room. With the house full, sleeping arrangements could be odd. “When we were young, Kenya and I would sleep in this room. Unlike me, she was inside playing with dolls and make-up.” I grab a doll off the bed, one that my grandmother has kept over the years.

  “And Kenya will be here today too?” My eyebrow raises and I smirk my lips. “What’s that look for?”

  “I’m sure she’ll be here. She never misses a chance to show off her lifestyle for our family.” I shake my head. “I think she just loves bringing the drama.”

  James rubs his hands together. “What’s a holiday without a little drama?” He looks out the door and asks, “Think Memaw will make me some popcorn?”

  I laugh at James before walking past him to guide us back downstairs. I’d hate for Aunt Denise to come searching for us. I’m sure she thinks we got in a quickie, and although I wouldn’t mind, I’d never disrespect my grandmother’s house like that. This morning though, that’s another story. I knew we’d have to deal with all the craziness today, and James delivered on taking away my anxiety over him meeting my family.

  Downstairs I hear a few additional voices in the kitchen, so we head that way to see who has arrived. Hopefully enough people to let Memaw bless us with breakfast.

  My younger cousins run past us with a biscuit in hand, and I’m jealous that Memaw won’t give us the same treatment. My Aunt Loretta closes the refrigerator and turns around with a handful of dishes. I slide in to help her set them on the island before she says, “Oh, Corrine, it’s good to see you, dear.” She leans into my ear and asks, “And who have you brought home?” She peeps around my shoulder before continuing, “That one right there, hummm… he got an uncle?”

  Laughing, I whisper back to her, “That’s James, and I’ll have to ask him if he has a single uncle.”

  Placing the gravy on the island, Loretta walks towards James with her arms outstretched. “Nice to meet you, James.” Rubbing his arm after releasing him, she says, “Thanks for joining us for the day.” She turns to look at me smiling, like she just told Santa her wish list.

  James rubs his stomach before looking around the kitchen. “Memaw, can I have one of those biscuits I saw the kids running with?”

  Memaw looks up from the stove smiling, probably because he dropped the Ms. Dean. “Usually only the kids get to snack before meals are served, but I’ll let you slide this time.” She points towards the tray full of biscuits. “And if you want some homemade preserves they should be somewhere on that island too.”

  The smile on James’ face widens, and again I’m jealous as my stomach growls loud enough for Aunt Loretta to hear it. “You better go ask him to split that biscuit with you.”

  When James hears Loretta, he shakes his head. “I don’t know if I can share this yummy goodness.” He takes a second bite and confirms. “No, I can’t.” After chewing he continues, “But babe, you know any other time I’d share.”

  All the women in the kitchen laugh, cause we understand. Memaw’s biscuits could be the highlight of any menu; she could compete with the best chefs in the city.

  Fortunately, I don’t have to wait long to dig in. As if they were all waiting for their moment to arrive together, my aunts, uncles, and cousins flood through the kitchen; everyone mumbling and groaning about waiting for the man of the day. Grandpa Dean hasn’t made his grand appearance yet.

  “He’s never on time. The food will be cold by the time he decides to come through,” Denise says as she grabs a biscuit from the tray. Taking a bite, she convinces everyone else that she’s right.

  “Well go ahead and eat then.” My grandmother starts to pull out plates, setting them on the island before throwing her dishtowel down and walking out of the kitchen. Denise rolls her eyes as she piles her plate with breakfast.

  James looks at me with his eyebrows raised. Without moving he asks, “Uhhhh, do we eat,” he whispers in my ear. I hunch my shoulders and look around the kitchen at everyone else making themselves a plate.

  “Guess we might as well. If we don’t get in now, the food will probably be all gone.”

  He grabs a plate before I can make a step towards the island. With his hand outstretched, he hands me the plate. “Get in where you fit in, babe.”

  My Uncle Jr. looks at him. “Babe?” Then to me, he says, “I thought this little dude was one of y’all.” Sizing him up he continues, “Young man, I’ll have to catch up with you when we finish breakfast and see what you’re talking about. Make sure you are treating our Corinne okay.”

  “Sounds good, sir,” James says as he stacks his plate. I walk behind James and between grabbing breakfast, I point out different relatives and tell him their relation to me and their names. Our family is plagued with nicknames, making it hard to remember their actual given name. Over the years some refuse to respond to their childhood name, but it doesn’t stop the family from saying them repeatedly.

  “Coco, is that you?” James looks behind him at my cousin Bean before realizing Bean is referring to me by my childhood name.

  “Coco,” James whispers with a head nod. “I’m going to start calling you that,” he says with a smile.

  Bean wraps his arms around me and lifts me up. “Coco, where you been girl,” he asks before putting me back down. Bean was the one who had me running around with the boys as a kid. He always told me that I could do anything they could do.

  Looking up to him I say, “School, Bean, where have you been?” Bean’s slender body hasn’t changed over the years. The only difference between him now and him then is the facial hair that’s taken residence on his face. The hair that neatly frames his rigid jawline.

  “Shit, working.” As soon as the word shit leaves his mouth, I hold my breath, waiting for someone to correct him about cursing in Memaw’s house. When nobody comments, I look at him then around to all of our family. “Girl, we are grown. Nobody cares about that anymore.” Then he looks down at our younger cousins and says, “Well, unless one of these bad ass kids decide to let it slip.” We both laugh.

  With our full plates I walk James to the dining room table and sit between him and Bean. Introducing the two, Bean leans over me firing off a few questions about sports.

  We all lean back happy and full when the front door opens. The chatter around the table stops and we all wait in silence for who we think will walk through the door. When Grandpa Dean walks in, Denise smacks her lips.

  “After all these years she’s still bitter.” I look to Bean with my eyebrows stitched together. Bean and I are around the same age, and the stories we’ve heard about our aunts growing up are probably similar, but because his mom and Aunt Denise have had their fair share of issues over the years, I’m sure Bean’s mom has revealed more than I’ll ever know. With a smirk on his face, he says, “Mom finally told me that because Aunt Denise is the oldest, she’s the one who can remember the most about the decline of Memaw and Grandpa Dean’s relationship.”

  From stories I remember, it took years before Memaw filed for divorce from Grandpa Dean after suffering years of denied infidelity.

  “There y’all are.” Grandpa Dean looks at his watch. “Sorry I’m late, but glad y’all didn’t wait for me.” My eyes shift to Memaw, who is avoiding eye contact with any of us.

  Bean leans over and says, “Mom also told me that it was Aunt Denise who supposedly found Grandpa Dean with Janice.” My eyes open wide and I shift in my seat to hear more. “Mom says she ain’t been right since.”

  I look at James, who was caught up in a conversation with my younger cousin. He nods his head as my cousin explains the game on his phone screen. James doesn’t play video games like guys I’ve dated in the past; I’m amazed at how he can feign interest as my cousin yaps on about the game.

  “Well, at least y’all saved me a seat.” Of course, the only open chair around the room is
next to Aunt Denise. I feel my heart stop beating as I watch him make his way to the seat.

  “Oh, it’s about to go down,” Bean says.

  Chapter Two

  Friendly Neighbor

  “Help me clean up this kitchen,” Memaw says, looking at each of the ladies gathered around the dining room. “We need to get this food cooking, or we won’t be eating dinner this evening.”

  James looks at me and says, “I can stick around here with Bean.” Bean nods his head.

  “We can go get the movies started,” Bean says, looking at me. “Last weekend I made sure to get Memaw set up with a Netflix account.” I smirk at Bean because he’s been known to hustle. “Well, I signed in with one of my girl’s accounts.” He shrugs. “Same thing, we’ll have movies today regardless.” James laughs as they move towards the living room.

  In the kitchen Memaw’s four girls are wiping counters and cleaning dishes while Memaw chops vegetables. Loretta begins to sing, “Fireside is blazing bright.”

  “We’re caroling through the night,” we all sing along with her. After our rendition of This Christmas, my grandmother begins giving out orders to each of us. I am fortunate to have the duty of making pies. Memaw doesn’t write down her recipes. Instead, she expects each of us to listen intently to her instructions, ‘A pinch of this, and a dash of that.’ This year, instead of just listening, I capture her pie recipe on my phone. One day I’d like to replicate her sweet potato pie for my family.

  “Hey y’all,” Kenya yells from the front door, never one to make a quiet appearance. “I’m here.”