honestly think all you get from me is a lot of unnecessary baggage.”
“You have a ton of baggage, I’ll give you that,” he says, but not at all in an insulting way. “But so do I, Maggie. It’s unrealistic to think you can go through life without filling up pieces of baggage along the way. And I’m helping you with that. Helping you slowly get rid of one piece at a time. The first being the one containing all of your hurt and hatred toward your mom.” He’s strung several dozen pieces of popcorn already while I’m still trying to knot the end of the line to start mine. “Speaking of, how is Operation TNT going?”
At the rate Ran’s threading the tree decorations, he really won’t need much help, so I just fiddle with the needle and pretend like I’m actually contributing when it’s clear that I’m not. “Okay, I guess,” I say. “I’ve done what you suggested and have maintained some kind of contact each day.” My mom and I have shared close to a dozen superficial texts over the past week, but nothing that changes anything between us. Nothing that makes me see her for anything other than the lying, selfish woman she truly is.
“And what was your latest exchange?” Ran’s garland is as long as his wingspan now. I think he’s caught on to the fact that I’m not even trying anymore, and he doesn’t object when I set my needle onto the coffee table and curl up next to Nikon by the fire instead. Nikon lets out a low, content growl when I run my fingers through his thick fur. “Did you ask her what she’s doing for Christmas?”
“Yes.” Nikon’s mouth curls into a grin—if dogs can actually do that—and his hind leg starts twitching like he’s chasing a cat. Ran lifts his eyes from his garland and smiles sweetly at the two of us.
“Has she responded?”
“No.” I unintentionally stop scratching Nikon and he looks back up at me with pleading, brown eyes. “She usually doesn’t text back until after her kids are in bed.”
“So anytime then, yeah?” Ran says, glancing at the clock. It’s a little past 9:00 p.m. and she always texts before then. There’s probably one sitting on my phone right now, actually. “Why don’t you go check?”
I look down at Nikon, who’s still begging for my fingers to rake through his coat of fur, but follow Ran’s instruction and pull my purse off the couch. Sure enough, there are two missed text messages.
“What does it say?” Ran asks as I scan over them. He’s strung at least ten feet of popcorn onto the line and rises to his feet to curl them around the tree. Folding his arms over his chest, he steps back to admire his work. “Not bad if I do say so myself.”
“She asked me to come to the cabin with them next weekend.”
I’m not sure how he maintains his footing, because Ran spins around so fast it’s like he’s a spinning top. “What?” He races toward me. “Maggie, that’s huge.”
“I’m not going.” I shove the phone into the depths of my purse and pick up the needle and a palmful of popcorn.
“You have to. This is a huge step.”
I shake my head at him in frustration. “Ran. I hate snow, I hate their cabin, and I hate her. Give me one good reason why I should go?”
“Because she invited you.” His arms are still crossed over him, and he appears sterner than I’ve ever seen him. “You go because she invited you.”
“I don’t owe her anything.”
“Maggie,” Ran says, unhooking his arms and tossing his hands into the air, “when will you get over the idea that life is all about owing people? The only person you owe anything to is yourself, and that’s the chance to prove that you’re capable of doing this.”
I look away from him and shake my head. “Ran, she’s probably drunk. She drinks every night. I doubt she even remembers sending the text.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He’s still squared off in front of me, and his tall frame would be quite imposing if I wasn’t able to detect the sincerity that is so evident in his eyes and on his face. “Text her back and tell her you’re going.”
I don’t like this Ran-tells-Maggie-what-to-do phase we’re in. I am a grown woman and am completely capable of making my own decisions. But as Ran stands there with an expectant look on his face, there’s nothing else I