Marking the first holiday of which I was aware of the missing presence of my family, I expected Christmas day to be bittersweet. I tried to imagine the many, 13 to be precise, Christmases I had shared with my family. Imagined a beautiful tree in the front window of our home in Stanley. Pictured the cheesy stockings on the fire mantel, and completion of silly traditions. It hurt to think that what I was picturing was a fiction of my imagination.

     Distracted by enthusiastic recreations of holiday traditions, I hadn't had time to dwell on what could have been. A week of board games played with the Ryders, making gingerbread cookies with Claire, decorating the small grey home, being forced to take pictures with the mall Santa Clause in multiple different outfits, and watching just about every popular Christmas movie ever made. It was only late on Christmas Eve that my mind had been truly allowed to explore thoughts that I had long tried to push away.

     Sat alone in my dark room, breath smelling of hot cocoa, as I relived the day's joy and laughter, my mind couldn't help but drift to my last two Christmases with the Collins. I remembered our Christmas Eve walks around town and hated myself for looking back on those days with envy. I detested the idea that I remembered the traditions that the Collins had forced into my mind, whilst I couldn't remember any day of the many years that I had been blessed with my family. I hated the part of me that still cared for them. Now more than ever, I clung to Grayson's retailing of memories with desperation, hoping I could properly honor my parents and sister.

     I surprised Grayson by rapidly agreeing to inviting long distance family members and friends for Christmas dinner. He had been so convinced that I'd refuse that he had later complained of the time he wasted creating unused bargaining chips. Even I was partially surprised by my quick agreeance, but as much as I wished to believe otherwise, I needed this. I swallowed my pride and accepted the fact that I could use all the help I could get.

     Woken by loud stomping and the swinging of my bedroom door, I couldn't even attempt to stifle a laugh. I paid no bother to the intrusion of privacy. I could only be amused by Grayson's child-like, excited bouncing around. Jumping onto my covers, nearly sending me flying over the edge of the mattress, he pulled me into a sitting position.

     "Come on!" he urged with a large grin, already in the process of forcing me to my feet. "Santa came!"

     I couldn't tell if he was imitating himself many years ago or my little sister, Maddy, but whichever was the answer, I followed him with nearly as much enthusiasm. Hand pressed tightly in his, I let him drag me to the living room, laughing whole-heartedly as he skipped and hummed joyfully.

     After the fuss he had made on my birthday, I begged him not to overdue the gifts. He had reassured me, by claiming that the presents were lame. By lame, I suppose he meant cheesy. Most of the gifts' material value could be compared to the beaded bracelet I had been gifted in kindergarten. They were symbols of our friendship, picture frames and cheap crafts but I knew that just like my bracelet turned into an anklet, I would hold the gifts with great sentiment.

     Thinking I had opened my last wrapped box, I made move to stand, hoping to pass my gifts. Grayson stopped me. Tentatively, he retrieved a small box from his pyjama pocket.

     "Another?" I asked apprehensively.

     Until now, he hadn't overdone it. He hadn't spent a ridiculous amount of money, but with the size of the new box, I could only assume it was jewellery. Grayson didn't try to reassure me. He simply chuckled, ocean eyes urging me to unravel the red wrapping paper.

     I pulled out the same heart shaped locket that he had regifted on my birthday. The chain that had discolored due to poor maintenance had been replaced, and on the back of the golden heart, my parents, my sister's, and my initials had been engraved. Inside he added a picture of my family. The picture couldn't have been taken long before my fourteenth birthday. Leaving one side empty to add a picture of my choice, I imagined placing a picture taken by a stranger of myself and the Ryders at the tree orchard last week. It startled me how much of a liking I had taken to the three in such a short time.

     Chest warm, I shot Grayson a genuine smile. "Thank you."

     Brushing any praise, he shrugged nonchalantly. I hoped he could tell by my soft gaze that I thought the gift far from lame. I suddenly wished that I had handed my presents first. Shopping for Claire and Calvin had been rather easy, but I hadn't known where to begin with Grayson. He had such little spare time, that I realized I knew very little about his interest. I had had to question Claire, gathering as much information as I could in the short half-hour that I had managed to force into Grayson's tight schedule. I had rolled my eyes at the mention of coupons that I made on one of the first proper Christmas mornings we spent with the Ryders. It pained me to think I was once so tacky, but I figured he would appreciate the few recreated coupons, along with the Mythology card game that had served as an obsession during our childhood.

     Even after everything he had done for me, Grayson was surprised when I handed him a gift. Eyes flickering pointedly towards the dozens of boxes I had opened; he didn't dare claim the present unnecessary. Brows already raised in faint surprise; his eyes grew wider as he raised the familiar deck of cards. He grinned madly.

     "We are so playing this tomorrow night!" he declared, eagerly. "This is the one game I always won."

     "We'll see about that," I said confidently, though I had no recollection of the rules or purpose of the game.

     A smirk played at his lips in response to the challenge. "I may have to use of these. You never did like to lose," he noted, playfully flicking a blue coupon that read Instant Forgiveness in my neat writing. "These hardly ever worked," he added matter of factly. "They had quite the opposite effect, actually."

     I smiled knowingly. I couldn't imagine his shoving a similar piece of paper into my angry face had ever succeeded to calm me.

     Finishing my Christmas crepes, I was told that today would be a pyjama day. I was pleased with the idea until, Grayson pulled out matching pairs of adult-sized onesies. The red material featured dancing reindeers. To everyone's surprise, I didn't put up much of a fight. It was difficult to argue with someone who was in such a good mood, and I was admittedly curious to see Grayson in the red, one-piece pyjama. Much to my dismay, he pulled off the outfit very well. Of course, he did.

     Dancing lamely in the living room, the doorbell rang, and suddenly, I was very much reconsidering our ridiculous attires. This was what I'd wear to greet important people of my past? I shouldn't have expected anything less.

    My mother's only sister from New York couldn't come down, but she sent a letter which by Grayson's surprise must have been more than expected. Other than Aunt Joyce and my grandmother on the Adams side, I didn't have close living relatives. My father had been an only child, but I was told he had had a close bond with his cousin Edward. Grayson invited Edward and his family, amongst old family friends.

     Dozens of strangers entering the Ryder home, most were not related by blood, but instantly I understood why my parents had considered them part of the family. Those who had been invited on behalf of Claire and Calvin's relatives, held me just as tightly as my family. It was both heart-warming and disconcerting. I saw the joy in their eyes when they first saw me, but equally I saw the pain. Each visitor tried to keep the reunion light. I suspected Grayson had warned them of my probable discomfort.

     At first, I had been overwhelmed with the many new faces, but I was blessed with understanding company. Introductions had been difficult and awkward on my part, but as the night went on, everyone chatted easily. They made sure I wasn't the centre attention and for many moments, I was able to pretend that I was a normal teenager having a normal family supper.

     The small living room was slightly chaotic. Young children ran around, and adults and teens were spread across the room, engaging in various enthusiastic conversations. I had spent the past half-hour talking with my grandmother. Frail woman with perfectly curled, short grey hair, and cheeks drooping with age, she wore brown slacks with a white wool shirt with a large snowman plastered on her chest. Even with age she had an uncanny resemblance to the pictures I had seen of my father. She was incredibly sweet, but heavily confused. Diagnosed with Alzheimer's, she struggled to maintain a single conversation topic and mistakenly believed some of the younger boys to be my father. She didn't recognize me and when I attempted an explanation, she only grew more confused, so I let it be. As much as her state pained me, I couldn't help but relate. I listened patiently to the brief sentences she uttered, even those that were incoherent. I understood the agony of having your brain betray you.

     Announcing her need of a bathroom, eventually my grandmother was whisked away. Kathleen, an old friend of my mother, helping the tremoring woman to a stand, I watched the two leave with a half-hearted smile. Briefly let alone for the first time that evening, gaze flicking between every guest, it was then that my ignored emotions hit me hard. I couldn't help but notice who was missing. In one awful, sudden wave, I was hit with a mixture of anguish and guilt. Eyes scanning the joyful faces that surrounded me, eagerly searching for a distraction, my gaze fell on Grayson, and I smiled genuinely, heaving a breath of relief.

     Sat on the end of the sofa across from mine, Grayson held a young girl, one of my distant cousins, on his lap. Adding their final touch to a crafted snowflake, Grayson teasingly bounced his leg, the child shaking on his lap. He had the decency to pull a stupid look, as if he hadn't expected the shaking of the bottle to send its content flying. Sparkles now covering her dark skin, Edward's daughter, Mina giggled loudly. I smiled warmly at their laughing figures. The girl was only a few years younger than my sister would have been. I could picture the blonde smiling just as brightly as the brunette did now, as Grayson playfully acted like a fool. Hours spent studying my little sister's picture, easily I could imagine her now, looking up to Grayson. She should have been here. They should have been here to enjoy the day's bliss, and that of every day to follow. They would miss out on so much, while I, an indirect cause to their demise, lived. It wasn't fair.

     Eyes burning, lump forming in my throat, desperately I tried to compose myself before I drew anyone's attention. I was too slow. Unbeknown to me, Claire had returned to the living room, and very suddenly found herself stood behind me, leaning on the sofa. Thins arms pulling me into a hug, I let my head fall back on her shoulder. Holding tightly to the sleeve of her cashmere sweater, I released a shaky breath.

     "Do you want to give me a hand with something in the kitchen?" she whispered softly.

     I followed her eagerly. I understood by her delicate tone that she didn't truly need help. She was offering me an escape. Not wanting to tear down anyone's mood, a quick escape was exactly what I needed.

     Reassuringly squeezing my shoulders as I took a seat on one of the kitchen island's stools, Claire joined Willow at the oven. Whatever they were baking smelled amazing. In a long, yellow sun-flowered dress, Edward's wife vigorously stirred a bowl of batter. Dark braids swaying as she turned to face me, her bright smile flickered upon meeting my eyes. I didn't hide my mood as well as I would have wished.

     "What are you baking?" I asked swiftly, hoping to divert her attention.

     "Pecan tassies," she said, tone cheerful but eyes remaining concerned. "Little bit of a last-minute inspiration... Claire was telling me about Grayson's memory calendar, and I remembered how much you loved these." She nodded towards the cookie tray. "I used to have to make an entire extra batch for you and Conrad."

     Mention of my father and her kindness radiating, my eyes stung again. Eyes narrowing sympathetically, Willow put down the tin bowl.

     "It's okay to miss them," she said. "We miss them too."

     Body tensing, eyes fearful, my gaze flickered between both women and all sense of resistance vanished in a breath of relief. Something about their oozing nurturing states, pulled the words from lips.

     "At least you know what you're missing," I said quietly, shoulders slumping vulnerably. "I know it's not my fault, but I can't help but feel like I'm dishonouring them by not remembering them."

     "Oh, honey," Willow murmured, pulling me into her large arms. Much to my surprise, I let myself melt into her embrace. Her strong hold oddly familiar, slowly the lump in my throat dissolved. I let Claire and Willow comfort me, eventually working up the nerve to help them with the baking.

     Willow's remark of my love of her pecan tassies, was an understatement. Entire group gathering to play charades after supper, I nearly finished a whole batch of the dessert on my own. We played charades for hours, one by one, visitors slowly leaving. Most living out of town, few didn't bother with hotels, instead opting to spend the night at the Ryders. Amongst those who stayed were Claire's sister and nieces, Edward, and Willow with their five children, and my mother and Claire's friend with her husband and two sons.

     Couches pushed to the back; air mattresses littered the floor of the living room. It had been Grayson's brilliant idea to have everyone sleep in the same room; some mention of knocking off sleepover from his list, influencing his persistence.

     Watching the Polar Express for the third time that week, I shared a king-sized blow-up mattress with Grayson, Mina fast asleep, not far to my left. Lights dimmed, adults whispering and playing cards in the back, soft sound of children snoring filling the room, a smile rested on my lips.

     Sprinkles dusting his forehead from crafts with the children, his pair of matching pyjamas sticky with glue, Grayson struggled to keep his eyes open. Eyes small, his lashes flickered from sleep to consciousness. I laughed at his stubbornness. Laughter reenergizing him enough to stick out his tongue, he furrowed his tired brows.

     "Don't laugh at me," he moaned good-naturedly. "So, tired."

     Despite his request, I chuckled again. "I suppose you have a reason for fighting sleep?"

     Small eyes threatening to shut again, he just barely nodded his head. "Must finish movie," he answered with a resolved tone, but a yawn escaped him.

     "Is it some kind of tradition to watch it three times?"

     "Four."

     I groaned, but the smile never left my lips. I studied his failing fight for a few moments longer in consideration.

     "How about we finish it, tomorrow?" I finally offered.

     I had no desire to watch the movie nearly five times in a week, but I was feeling generous.

     Eyes still half closed; his right brow twitched with intrigue.

     "We can watch it after I win that dumb card game," I baited.

     Eyes briefly narrowing, his feigned state of annoyance resolved as he heaved a dramatic sigh. "Then, we're never going to watch it!"

     I kicked him softly under the covers.

     "We can watch it even if I lose."

     "When," he corrected with another yawn. "Not if."

     Smirking at his confidence, I watched as he shut his eyes with satisfaction, slowly allowing himself to succumb to sleep. I should have looked away then. But I couldn't.

     Just as I thought he had fallen asleep, pink lips twitched into a warm smile. "Merry Christmas, Alex."

     "Merry Christmas, Grayson."