Unwrap these Presents by Astrid Ohletz

Author:Astrid Ohletz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: anthology, short stories, christmas, lesbian
Publisher: Ylva Publishing

Meet the Lesbians

Ashley Stevens

I sound like I have a slow air leak with all the sighing I’ve been doing in the past three minutes. I stare at the cell phone in my palm, one finger hovering above the key pad, and just when I think I have this under control, that I’m finally ready to dial her number, I jerk my finger away. Sitting on the uncomfortable sofa Kendall bought with the larger-than-life pillows, I press the first two keys and then hit the ‘end’ button. I hang my head. Between my feet is a gigantic dust bunny that looks like it’s having an easier day than me. An agitated sigh from across the room pulls my head back up.

Kendall stands in front of me, arms folded over her chest. “I honestly have no idea what is so hard about calling your parents.” She huffs. Her face is serious as a damn heart attack, and suddenly, I feel guilty. Girls are kinda good at doing stuff like that, aren’t they?

“You don’t know what she…what they’re like.”

“She’s your mother for crying out loud. Call her already!”

I toss the phone onto the coffee table and rub at my eyes like a sleepy child. “Kendall, you really don’t understand. My family is a little, well, different.”

“Oh, whatever!” Kendall throws her hands in the air and walks into the kitchen. Twin staccato pops and low hissing drift to my ears, and then she’s back, shoving a beer in my face, the cold aluminum of the Pabst can rubbing against my nose. “Drink this, your testes will drop, and you will call her.”

“Fine.” I sigh—again—and take a deep drink from the can. I dial her number quickly. I can’t help scowling at Kendall. I would pout, but that just isn’t appropriate at this point in time. I’m not going to get my way anyhow. The phone rings one, two, three times. On the fourth ring, I say, “I don’t think she’s there.”

“Then leave a voicemail,” Kendall snaps.

“I will, I will.” The ringing stops. I suck in a deep breath to leave a message when there comes the familiar cadence of my momma’s voice. Sometimes that cadence makes my eye twitch. This is one of those times.

“Deacon! To what do I owe this surprise?”

My slow air leak becomes a full-on pressure release. “Hi, Momma.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to call me.”

“The phone works both ways, Ma.”

“Smart-ass. Anyway, we really need to talk about the holidays. Your aunt Dinah and I were thinking—”

“Actually, that’s what I’m calling you about,” I say. “I have an idea.”

“Do share, then!”

How pathetic it is that I’m hesitating, that I’m searching for the courage to spit out the words I’ve actually spent time rehearsing. “I was thinking I’d come back home the week of Christmas and leave on New Year’s Day.”

The line goes silent, and I think maybe we’ve been disconnected, but then I hear my mother’s infectious giggle. “You want to stay here for two weeks? That’s awesome! Oh, we are gonna have so much fun!”

“Wait, I’m not finished.

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