All the Lovely Pieces by J. M. Winchester

Author:J. M. Winchester [Winchester, J. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542041591
Published: 2019-08-05T16:00:00+00:00

Catherine

Adam brought me a tree. A tiny three-foot one with a small bag of shatterproof ornaments.

He couldn’t stay to help me decorate, though. He’s going away again. With her.

That’s why he brought the tree. A consolation prize for spending another Christmas alone. He always finds a reason not to be here. I know why. As a child, he never celebrated the holidays. His father was too busy to take time off work, and his mother was a horrible woman who took no joy in anything, except stealing her son’s happiness.

Only Adam’s nanny, Mariella, made any attempt at all to make the season special for him. On Christmas Day, she’d sneak in one small, inexpensive toy, wrapped in a brown paper bag, disguised as her lunch. His mother never noticed, and Adam cherished those little gifts. He kept the ornaments, superhero figurines, and tiny toy cars and trucks in a display case in his office.

He told me about them once when I asked, but after that, discussions about Christmas or his troubled childhood had been off-limits. He doesn’t like to think about those days. And the holidays are too hard on him.

I understand.

I heard him talk about skiing in the Alps with Isabella. That sounds fun. I hope they have a good time. I hope she doesn’t fall and break her neck.

End up useless like me.

Adam will love her more then. He loves the weak, broken.

I put the bulbs in order of color on the floor beside the tree. Six red ones, six green ones, six gold ones. Traditional colors. Like the ones on my family’s tree across town. Sixteen blocks away.

What would they do if they knew I was so close? Still alive. Not missing. Not dead.

They can’t know. It’s not part of the plan. Adam says we need Drew to be convicted of murder so that she’ll stay away forever. But I can’t stop thinking about my family lately . . . the time of year, I guess.

It’s December twentieth. My mom would have had her tree decorated for three weeks by now. By December first, our nine-foot tree would have been erected each year. She’d let my brother and me help put the ornaments on, but then she’d move them all around later so that the same colors wouldn’t be clumped together on nearby branches.

I need this tree to be perfect. Like hers.

I start with the red ones and strategically place them all around the tree. Plastic branches scratch my arms, but I need to push the bulbs in far enough so they won’t fall off if I get angry someday and knock the tree over.

Next the green, then the gold. It doesn’t take long, and I stand back to stare at the pathetic little tree.

My mom would be proud that the decorations are spread out at least.

Dylan is old enough to help decorate a tree. I know if he were still here, Adam would celebrate the holidays with us. He’d find new joy in the season because of his son.

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