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Ring, ring, ring. Mason picked up the phone, interrupted in her packing for her move upstairs. "Hello?"
"Merry Christmas!" Her mother's voice sounded cheerful.
Mason smiled at the phone, and her voice carried the sound of the smile to the woman at the other end. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Mom. And thank you for the gifts, they're beautiful!" Her mother had sent her several wrapped gifts, elegant clothing, jewelry, and handmade knicknacks.
"Thank you for the scarf, Mason, it's beautiful. And your father is so excited about the trip to Dallas! We will adore seeing you and he will be so nostalgic about the Cowboys that I will probably have to put my earplugs in." Her mother's dry wit carried a strong overtone of loving tolerance.
Mason knew Mom wouldn't change a thing about Dad if she could. She smiled softly.
Her mother continued, "Where were you last night? I tried to call then, but I kept getting your machine."
Mason felt an odd sinking feeling. She tried to think of what to say. "I spent last night, well, with a couple of very good friends." Her voice picked up animation as she started telling her mother about her night and morning. "I made Christmas stockings for them, and we listened to music... and roasted marshmallows, and it was nice. Almost like being home for Christmas." And lots of kissing under the mistletoe, she thought with a pleasant shiver of memory, listening to her mother tell about Christmas in Vermont.
"... The snow was so beautiful. And your father wants to say hello, Mason, and so did Standish... where has that boy gone?" Her mother handed the phone to her father.
"Hi, Dad," Mason said.
"Hi, Macey," he replied. Her father was the only one to still call her by that childhood appellation. She had resigned herself that she'd always be a kid to her father. He continued, "Thanks for the game tickets, the Broncos should be a real tough matchup. Your mother thinks it's a plot to get us down there to visit you. We'll take you out to dinner after the game, so cancel that hot date."
Mason laughed. "I don't have a hot date for that night, Dad."
Her father pretended shock. "What? Maybe the Apocalypse is coming after all--" he trailed off in choking laughter. Mason felt a sudden stab of worry as she heard the sound... it didn't sound healthy.
"Are you okay, Dad?" she asked, feeling a sense of futility, as he'd never admit anything was wrong.
"Sure I'm fine, " he said in a rough voice from the choking, his tone forcedly cheerful. "And I can't wait to see you... or the Cowboys! Here's your mother again."
Her mother took over the phone smoothly. In their years of marriage, her parents had perfected this move. "Mason, Standish wanted to talk to you but he's gone off with his friends. I'm sure he'll talk to you later. Goodbye sweety, and have the happiest of holidays."
Mason nodded, still worried about her father. "Yes, you too, Mom." She also felt a bit of relief at not having to make conversation with her younger brother. Mason and Standish had never really got along. "Bye...." she trailed off wistfully, as her mother hung up the phone.
Mason mentally imagined the direction of conversation with Standish that might have taken place, unable to stop herself from this rather ghoulish behavior. [insert authorial giggling]
"So, Mason, you spent the night with some couple? You taken up swinging, big sister?" Uh... no... "Right... so you slept in their bed and they took the couch and the floor?" I'm not that rude a houseguest... "So you were the one on the floor?" Uh.... no... they had a guest bedroom... "Convenient to sneak into in the early AM eh?" Standish... grow up...
Mason shook off the thoughts and returned to packing, hoping to finish before the new year.