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April has a plan for Christmas.
It’s been four months since she’s been home, which means four months since she kissed Sterling and changed both of their lives for the better, and also four months since she’s seen her mom.
She and Sterling are together now—not in the loose high school way but as an actual couple; she calls Sterling her girlfriend with pride—but April can literally count on one hand the number of days they’ve spent in the same place since actually getting together.
April loves a lot about college. She loves the independence; the ability to dig into what really interests her; getting to meet people as this version of herself, the version that can refer to herself as gay and Christian in the same casual conversation without anyone blinking an eye.
Being on opposite coasts as Sterling is easily her least favorite part. They’ve had a couple of long (and yet way to short) weekends here and there, which isn’t close to enough.
Sterling’s parents know about the two of them, but April’s mom doesn’t. She isn’t even aware that April is gay, as far as April knows.
And that’s where April’s plan for Christmas comes in.
She wants to have a good time, or at the very least a pleasant one, and she wants to be able to see Sterling without fear of what that might imply. Mostly, she doesn’t want to spend her entire break arguing with her mom, or defending her personhood, or couch-surfing because the situation is just too fraught at home.
So April’s plan is this: she will play the role of the perfect heterosexual daughter for exactly two more weeks—back by popular demand: an encore performance, she thinks to herself dryly—spending all of her moments away from her mother with Sterling. And then, the day before she leaves, she’ll sit her mom down and explain everything. That’ll give Jill time to process, separate from April.
It’s a solid plan, she thinks, and Sterling is supportive, if saddened at the idea of April once again feeling the need to hide herself.
And then two days before April flies home, the plan implodes.
April and her mom are on the phone, talking through the details of April’s trip. Jill’s a little nervous, April can tell. She’s been more prone to anxiety ever since the divorce, and April’s tried to be understanding, attempting gentleness despite the typical brittleness that exists between them.
“So your flight gets in around seven?” Jill confirms, for the third time.
April is starting to pack as they talk, and she can’t help the grin that takes over her face as she finds one of Sterling’s old Willingham T-shirts shoved in the bottom of her suitcase. She lifts the shirt to her nose, surprised and delighted to find that it still smells like Sterling.
“April?”
“Yes, sorry. Seven-oh-two, assuming I get in on time.”
Jill hums like she’s writing that down. “Do you want to do dinner after? I could pick something up on the way…?”
“Oh, um.” Sterling gets in the day before April, and they made loose plans to get dinner after April’s flight. She’s already buzzing at the thought of seeing Sterling again for the first time in nearly two months, and the idea of prolonging that moment for any length of time makes her heart hurt.
But then April thinks of her mom, alone in the big, empty house. And that makes her heart hurt, too.
She takes a deep breath. “Sure. Dinner would be good.”
“Wonderful.” Jill sounds relieved. “I’ll send you menu options.”
“You don’t have—that’s great, thank you.” April considers two pairs of jeans, one that are her most comfy, and one that hug her ass in such a way that Sterling’s eyes bug out whenever she wears them. She tosses both pairs in her suitcase.
“You know,” Jill says. “I ran into Lynn and Luke Creswell yesterday.”
April freezes. She knows that tone of voice her mom is using. It’s her attempting-to-be-casual voice, the one she used to deploy on April’s dad whenever she had an idea that she knew he might disapprove of.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mmm hmm. That Luke is such a well-mannered young man. Attractive, too.”
April felt it coming, but her stomach still drops. She’s had versions of this conversation over the years, Jill nudging her toward a particular boy with a comment on his nice family or cute smile. At this point, April is the master at deflecting the conversation onto a different topic, whether that means full-on changing the subject, or reiterating how busy she is, or digging up some particularly unflattering fact about the boy in question that forces Jill to change her tune.
These conversations always end with April nearly hyperventilating as soon as she’s alone, needing several long minutes to ground herself, but they’re hardly a surprise, anymore. She’s basically a pro.
So maybe it’s because she actually is with someone now, or because for the first time in her life she has a concrete plan to come out, or because everyone in her college world knows who she is and accepts it without question. Maybe Sterling’s distaste for lying has rubbed off on her, or maybe it’s the fact that John is finally out of her life, or maybe April is just really tired.
But in this moment, she isn’t sure if she can do it again.
She doesn’t say anything, so Jill continues, “You two spent a little time together in high school, right?”
April has to roll her eyes, because she knows without question that Jill remembers that time with absolute clarity. The one month after the lock-in when April took her most dramatic steps in her charade of heterosexuality by pretending to date Luke.
Jill loved it, of course, fawning all over him the two times April brought him over. Ultimately, April realized that she couldn’t do it. Not to herself, not to Sterling (whose looks of sadness nearly killed April), and not to Luke, who was—and by all accounts, still is—an annoyingly sweet guy. He took it well, particularly for a boy who had been dumped twice in a single school year.
“Yes,” April replies as evenly as possible.
“Why didn’t y’all work out?”
April grits her teeth. “Just one of those things, I guess.”
“Well, maybe you should try again,” Jill offers, the level of hope in her voice making April nauseous. “Now that you’re out of high school, and now that that Wesley girl is out of the way—”
“Sterling,” April lets slip before she can stop herself.
“Right, Sterling. Troubled girl.”
And that does it. April feels something inside of her snap. It reminds her of those videos she’s seen of a watermelon getting rubberbands stretched around it, how eventually the watermelon can’t handle the pressure and it bursts, bits of fruit exploding everywhere.
“Mom,” April says sharply. “I don’t want to try again with Luke.”
“Okay, maybe someone else, then—”
“I don’t want to try with anyone else.” April breathes through her nose slowly. “I’m with someone.”
“Oh?”
April knows she has to get it all out now, so she says in a rush, “I’m with Sterling. Yes, that Sterling. We’ve been together since the summer, and she makes me happy. And yes, I’m a lesbian, but no, I don’t believe that I’m going to Hell. God made me, and he loves me. And I know you might not agree, but that’s what I—”
“April, stop.” Jill’s voice is hard now, not even surprised or angry so much as empty. Devoid of feeling. “Stop talking. I can’t—no.”
“Mom.”
“For you to call yourself—well, that’s bad enough,” Jill continues. “But with that girl? After what she did to our family?”
“You mean what Dad did,” April replies, without an ounce of regret.
“You’d better find somebody else to pick you up from the airport. And don’t have them bring you home.”
So that’s about how well April’s plan goes.
----
Sterling and Blair pick April up from the airport together. April hasn’t actually cried since her conversation with her mom, and she isn’t sure if seeing Sterling again will be the thing to push her over the edge. She doesn’t really want to fall into Sterling’s arms like a blubbering mess, but she’s also been through enough therapy at this point to know that it’s okay to fall apart, that Sterling is absolutely a safe person to do so with.
Ultimately, the adrenaline of seeing Sterling kind of sends April into a state of numbed out bliss. Sterling’s wearing a cute little beanie, and her hair is longer and she smells good, and it’s all just so much. Sterling ends up being the one fighting back tears as she spins April around, pressing a kiss to her hair. April hugs her back fiercely, reveling in the sensation of being surrounded by all things Sterling once again.
They pull back just enough to look at each other, a question in Sterling’s eyes that April answers by kissing her. And she really intends for it to be soft and chaste, a simple hello kiss, but then Sterling grips the back of her neck and runs her tongue along April’s lower lip, and April can’t not deepen the kiss, and pretty soon they’re basically making out in front of Blair and the whole of ATL.
“Ahem!” Blair says loudly, and they break apart, Sterling still clutching April around the waist. Sterling’s cheeks are flushed but she doesn’t look remotely guilty.
“I thought you brought me with so you two could make out in the car,” Blair directs to Sterling.
“No!” Sterling chirps. “I brought you with so April would know that she has lots of support here.”
“Oh, right,” Blair replies, rolling her eyes. But then she turns her attention to April, eyes flashing with sincerity. “Welcome home, Stevens. Sorry your mom’s being a dick.”
“Blair!” Sterling hisses.
“What? It’s the truth!”
“Yes, but—”
“Thank you,” April interjects before their back-and-forth gets more out of control. She tips her head gratefully against Sterling’s chest, shivering a little when Sterling starts stroking her hair. “It’s…not ideal. But now I know, I suppose.”
“It might not be forever,” Sterling offers. April lifts her head, her breath catching when confronted with the affection shining through Sterling’s eyes. “And, um, I’m super proud of you. In a totally not patronizing way.”
I love you, April thinks but doesn’t say, because they haven’t said those words yet, and she doesn’t want the first time to be in the middle of an airport during a conversation about her mom’s homophobia.
“Let’s go home,” Blair suggests, and April tries not to get stuck on that word.
April nods. “Yeah, I just need to pick up my bag, and then you can drop me off at Ezequiel’s.”
Sterling frowns. “Why would we drop you off at Ezequiel’s?”
“Oh, well, he and his family are skiing but he told me I could crash there until they get—”
“April.” Sterling looks at her squarely. “You’re coming home with us.”
April shakes her head. “No, you guys want your family time—”
“Yeah,” Sterling says. “And you’re part of that.”
“Mom and Dad already offered,” Blair adds. “No use fighting it.”
And it’s the easy way they both say that, as though it’s so obvious that April should be included, that finally does her in.
April cries all the way to baggage claim and for most of the car ride back to the Wesleys.
Sterling holds her hand the entire time and tells her it’s okay to let it out.
----
April is well aware that Mr. and Mrs. Wesley know that she’s Sterling’s girlfriend, but she’s yet to experience it firsthand. Sterling told them back in the fall, after coming out as bisexual over the summer, and apparently they took both pieces of news pretty well. According to Sterling, Mrs. Wesley’s first words upon learning about the two of them was, “Well, that makes a certain amount of sense.”
Still, the idea of walking into the Wesley house as Sterling’s capital-G Girlfriend, especially given the drama of the last few days that they’ve obviously learned about, gives April butterflies. And not the about-to-kiss-Sterling kind. It’s a level of vulnerability that she typically avoids, particularly with any vaguely parental figures.
The Wesleys, for their part, go out of their way to make April feel welcome. “It’s a pleasure to have you here, hon,” Mrs. Wesley says, stopping short of a hug, instead opting for an arm squeeze.
“Absolutely!” Mr. Wesley agrees, dragging April’s bag inside before she can offer to take it. “The more the merrier, I always say.”
“When have you ever said that?” Blair asks.
Mrs. Wesley sighs exasperatedly. “Blair, could you not give your father or me grief for all of five minutes?” She nods at April, who’s beginning to feel like a scientist exploring foreign matter: a family with enough love and affection between them that they can casually make fun of one another without those feelings being at all in doubt. “We have a guest present.”
Blair snorts. “April’s hardly a guest.”
“Hey!” April and Sterling protest in unison.
“I mean that in the ‘when you’re here, you’re family’ way! Chill!”
April wrinkles her nose. “Why are you quoting Olive Garden commercials at me?”
Sterling leans toward April’s ear, but speaks loud enough so Blair can hear, “I think she’s trying to be warm and welcoming. It doesn’t come naturally for her.”
“Now it’s my turn to ‘hey!’” Blair replies.
“Oh Lord,” Mrs. Wesley sighs. “The house was so quiet.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Wesley,” April replies, automatically.
Mrs. Wesley shakes her head. “You have nothing to apologize for. C’mon, April, I’ll show you to the guest room.” She walks toward the stairs before turning on her heel. “And please, call me Debbie.”
----
April heads to bed early that night, exhausted for so many reasons. Sterling protests April staying in the guest room for all of two minutes before they both realize it’s a battle they’re going to lose, and it isn’t really worth fighting, not when Debbie and Anderson—as they now insist April call them—are going out of their way to make this bad situation better.
April is tucked into bed, just starting to drift off, when she hears a light knock at her door. She grins, belly curling with anticipation. She may be tired, but there’s no way she’s going to turn down a visit from Sterling. Even if it might be against the rules.
Sterling’s smile is enormous when April opens the door. “My parents are asleep,” she whispers. “And I know because I can hear both of them snoring, but don’t mention that to my mom, because she’s super self-conscious about it.”
“In what world would I bring up your mom’s snoring?”
“Good point.” Sterling slips into the room and carefully closes the door.
April bites her lip. “They’re right down the hall, Sterl.”
“And we once had sex while my roommate was in the same room on her headphones,” Sterling points out.
“Oh right.” April flushes a little at the memory. “That was ill-advised, in retrospect.”
“Mmm hmm.” Sterling steps closer, wrapping her arms around April’s waist and starting to kiss up the side of her neck. April sinks into the sensation, letting her eyes drift closed. “It was also really freaking hot. My point is—”
“You had a point?” April teases, though it’s undercut by the gasp she lets out when Sterling bites lightly at her earlobe.
“My point is,” Sterling reiterates, “We're like sex ninjas. We can totally do this.” She pulls back a fraction of an inch. “That is, if you want to, which I totally shouldn’t assume—”
April laughs, shaking her head. “This would be a safe assumption.”
“Consent should never be—”
“Sterling.” April hears how low her voice has gotten, and she knows Sterling does too by the way her eyes widen. And then April surges forward, kissing Sterling with the kind of unrestrained passion that she’s been dreaming about for weeks. The action pushes Sterling back against the door, her body colliding with it a little too loudly.
April knows she should care, but she doesn’t. It’s impossible to care about anything right now but the feeling of Sterling’s soft skin under her fingertips, the soft breaths and moans and eventual ragged cries of “Please” that spill out of her, the points at which their bodies are connecting, fitting together like perfect puzzle pieces, like always.
I love you, April thinks at so many moments that night, her thoughts loud enough that she’s certain Sterling can hear them. I love you. I love you. I love you.
----
April finds herself settling into a strange sort of routine over the next few days. She’s usually up before either Sterling or Blair, so she ends up spending the first part of the mornings with Debbie and Anderson, at first hovering awkwardly as she observes the dance between them, the casual intimacy that exists in a years-long marriage between two people who actually like each other.
By the fourth morning, April happens to wake up before everyone else, so she makes use of the time, starting to whisk eggs for a scramble and get bread in the toaster as soon as she’s downstairs. She’s just pouring her first cup of coffee when Debbie appears, startling April enough that she nearly drops her mug.
“Sorry!” Debbie apologizes. “Didn’t mean to spook you.”
April waves a hand, embarrassed. “Lost in thought, I guess.”
“How can I help?”
April shakes her head, already pouring Debbie a mug of coffee. “I’m fine, really.”
Debbie accepts the mug, her eyes lighting up when April also passes her creamer. “Breakfast for five is no small feat.”
April shrugs as she pushes the eggs around in the pan. “I don’t mind.”
“Hmm.” Debbie sits down at the counter, and April can feel eyes on her. “April, I certainly appreciate it. But you don’t have to earn your keep, here.”
“Oh.” April stirs the eggs more vigorously. She hadn’t meant to imply that, at least not consciously. The Wesleys have been incredibly welcoming, more than April feels like she deserves. Making breakfast seems like the least she could do. But now she worries she may have gone too far. “I just appreciate your hospitality, that’s all.”
“I know you do.” Debbie sighs, and April turns the heat down on the eggs so she can face her. It seems rude at this point to have her back turned. “This situation with your mom—I’m sorry about it. You’re strong, and I see you handling it well. I can only imagine how hard it must be.”
April swallows, gripping the spatula just for something to hold onto. Now it feels like she’s the one under the microscope. “Thank you,” she manages.
Debbie sets her mug down. “This isn’t the same thing, really, but Anderson and I didn’t exactly say all the right things when Sterling came out to us.”
“You didn’t?” April frowns. She’d been under the impression that Sterling’s coming out had been met with nothing but love and acceptance.
Debbie nods. “Oh, it wasn’t as bad as what you’re going through. Sterling always knew she had a home here. But it caught us off guard. We should have made it more clear that all that mattered was Sterling’s happiness. If I could go back—” Debbie sighs a bit shakily. “But of course there’s no use in wanting that. We can only move forward.”
“Sterling never told me that.”
“I’m guessing she didn’t want to scare you.” Debbie offers a small smile. “When she told us about the two of you, I felt relieved, to be honest. I was certain you’d take care of her.”
“I will,” April confirms without hesitation, trying to hold her small statue up as high as it’ll go. “Absolutely.”
“I know that, honey.” Debbie reaches across the counter, opening her palm. April hesitates for just a second before stepping forward and taking Debbie’s hand, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as Debbie tightens her grip.
“Maybe the situation with your mom will improve, maybe it won’t. I can’t make any guarantees. But no matter what happens between you and Sterling, Anderson and I are here for you. You got that?”
April nods, because she doesn’t trust herself to speak.
“Now, go stir those eggs before we have to throw that pan away,” Debbie adds with a grin.
April lets out a laugh that might be half a sob before doing what she’s told. A few minutes later the sound of Sterling and Blair bounding down the stairs fills the house.
“April made breakfast?” Blair chirps. “Score!”
“She sure did,” Debbie replies, a note of pride in her voice. “Bar’s been set, girls. I’ve got a new favorite daughter.”
April knows that it’s a joke, but when Debbie winks in her direction, her heart feels lighter than it has all week.
----
April is used to the kind of Christmas traditions that look good on a Christmas card. Visits with Santa when she was younger, a tree decorated to look like a blandly expensive department store display, a photoshoot with tight smiles and itchy wool sweaters.
The Wesleys take part in some of these traditions—their Christmas card is immaculate—but they have their own spin on the holiday, too, one that April instantly understands to be warmer and homier than anything she grew up with.
Debbie has already decorated most of the tree, but she’s saved back a few special ornaments that are apparently Sterling and Blair’s favorites. A couple of nights before Christmas, the five of them finally finish decorating. April sits in front of the fire, nursing a glass of eggnog while she watches the twins at work.
Each new ornament is pulled from the box like a lost treasure, earning a loud “Aw!” and a breathless explanation of its significance, though whether that’s for April’s benefit or because they like reminiscing, April isn’t sure.
There are craft projects from elementary school—some of which April remembers having made herself, her own editions surely long discarded by now. Sterling and Blair each have a figurine ornament from Disney World: a Belle one for Sterling and a Mulan one for Blair. There are even a couple of picture frame ornaments with their baby photos inside, and April notices both Sterling and Debbie getting a little teary when it’s time to hang Sterling’s.
April finds it hard to name her emotions as she observes the family in front of her. Envy is too simplistic, wistful too pat. It’s more like looking into a funhouse mirror, watching a version of a life that could have been hers but she knows never will be. And yet there’s hope there, too. Like maybe a little of this magic could rub off on her, just by virtue of her being here.
“April, you wanna put the star on top?” Anderson offers.
Sterling sucks in a loud breath, and April frowns in confusion. “What?”
“The star is a big fucking deal,” Blair explains.
“Language, please,” Debbie begs.
“It’s always the last thing to go up,” Blair continues, unfazed. “We make Mom and Dad wait for us.”
“It’s the crowing jewel of the Christmas tree,” Sterling adds. “The pièce de résistance.”
“Ooh, fancy!” Blair remarks.
“Who usually puts it up?” April asks.
Blair shrugs. “We fight over it, usually. And sometimes we arm wrestle and while Sterling is crying because she lost, Dad ends up just doing it.”
“That was one time!” Sterling exclaims.
“So…it’s significant,” April realizes.
“As much as decorating a Christmas tree can be significant,” Blair says.
“And you’d let me do it?”
Four sets off Wesley eyes blinks back at her. “Of course,” Anderson answers. “You shouldn’t miss out on all the fun.”
April bites the inside of her cheek to keep from crying, because she’s really had enough emotional breakdowns for one week. “But I’m…short,” she points out, weakly.
Anderson grins. “That’s why ladders were invented.”
Everyone actually applauds and hollers when April puts the star on top. She laughs loudly and maybe lets a few tears escape. When she comes down off the ladder Sterling pulls her in for a hug, kissing her cheek.
Putting an ornament on a tree is far from April’s most impressive victory, but in that moment, she’s never felt like such a winner.
----
April barely sleeps the night before Christmas Eve. She has no idea what the morning church service will bring, whether her mother will even show, and if she does, what she’ll do. April’s few minutes of sleep are filled with half-dreams of Jill talking their pastor into delivering a sermon about the evils of homosexuality.
Sterling sneaks into her room a little before midnight, and she can immediately tell that April’s on edge. “What do you need?” she whispers.
April shakes her head, uncertain. She’s so wound up, practically shaking with anxiety.
“Do you want me to touch you?” Sterling asks.
April nods against her collarbones, so Sterling slides a hand between their bodies. And like always, Sterling knows exactly what she needs. Her touch is gentle but firm, she doesn’t tease. April comes quickly, gasping Sterling’s name into her pillow.
“Sleep, now,” Sterling murmurs, after, like it’s that simple.
April doesn’t sleep, but she feels better having Sterling near.
In the morning April takes a shower and slips on the one actually nice dress she brought home from Princeton, before she and Sterling get ready in the bathroom together. Sterling sits on the counter, allegedly doing her makeup but actually watching as April twists her hair around the curling iron.
“Is it weird that watching you do that turns me on?” Sterling asks.
April smirks at their reflections. “Well, I’m focused when I do this. And my focus tends to turn you on. So it makes sense to me.”
“Oh, you think you know everything,” Sterling bristles, but she’s grinning.
“Am I wrong?”
“Of course not.” Sterling kisses her shoulder. “I like getting ready with you.”
The comment makes April feel better than she has all morning. She flashes, briefly, on the image of them doing this in the future, of sharing some version of domestic bliss with Sterling.
“I like it, too.”
As they enter the church, Sterling walks in front of April and Blair walks behind, seeming to delight in playing the role of a low-key bodyguard.
“You know my mom isn’t, like, a terrorist, right?” April mutters.
“Leave this to the professional,” Blair replies. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
April manages to keep her gaze down until she’s seated in the Wesleys’ pew, and then she can’t stop herself from glancing over at her family’s pew. Her mom is sitting there alone, staring straight ahead, but maybe she can feel April’s eyes on her because she glances over.
April goes to raise her hand in a wave before realizing that the hand in question is attached to Sterling’s. Without even intending to their fingers have interlocked. When Jill notices this, she glances away.
Sterling sees it all, of course, whispering, “Are you okay?” against April’s shoulder.
April straightens her posture and looks toward their pastor, tightening her grip on Sterling’s hand.
----
Jill makes a quick exit after church. April is trying to act like everything’s fine, mostly because she doesn’t want to ruin this day for the Wesleys, but everyone is pretty quiet on the ride home.
“I think we need a project,” Debbie announces when they get in the door. “Girls, change out of your church clothes. We’re making cinnamon buns.”
Sterling and Blair groan in unison. “But Mom,” Blair protests. “They take forever and we can just buy them at the store!”
“Some things in life are worth waiting for, Blair,” Debbie replies. “Plus, you'll have the satisfaction of knowing you made them yourself.”
“I get satisfaction from other things.”
“And I shudder to think what that might mean. Go change your clothes.”
“What about our Christmas Eve movie marathon?” Sterling whines when they’re halfway up the stairs. “It’s tradition!”
“A little break in tradition might be just what we need,” Debbie replies, smiling in April’s direction.
April follows the twins upstairs, privately grateful for Debbie’s suggestion. She needs something to focus on, a task to keep her hands busy. And an hours-long baking project might be just the thing.
Debbie has an old recipe of Anderson’s grandmother’s, stained and in a plastic sleeve. April reads through it, somewhat absently lining up the ingredients on the counter in order of when they’ll be needed.
“Oh, April’s a natural!” Debbie remarks.
April beams. She’s always liked the chemistry of baking, the order of it. The way one small thing can change everything, yeast or baking soda transforming simple ingredients into an impressive dish. Despite baking being a typically feminine activity that her mom could get on board with, Jill never liked the mess, so April only ever baked with her nannies when she was younger.
Now, she watches Sterling and Blair settle up at the counter in their aprons. “Girls, you gonna help?” Debbie prompts.
“We can’t have too many cooks in the kitchen, right, Mom?” Blair replies.
"Come on, Blair."
“That’s alright, Debbie,” April says as she mixes the milk and butter, injecting a bit of faux graciousness in her tone. “I really don’t mind. Besides, Blair might lack the precision necessary to make these edible.”
Blair sticks her tongue out. “It’s not rocket science, y’know.”
“Well, you did almost blow up the kitchen that one time we tried to make donuts,” Sterling mutters, chirping, “Sorry! It’s true!” when Blair scowls at her.
“You might be right, April,” Debbie says as she starts to zest an orange. “Boy, am I glad you’re here.”
April shares a small private smile with Sterling, the kind that makes her toes curl. “Yeah, me too.”
----
Between the various stages of letting the dough rise, and lots of long pauses for snacks and sharing of old family stories, it’s beginning to get dark by the time April starts to roll out the dough. April’s shed her sweatshirt and is just wearing a tank top of Sterling’s under her apron, and she can feel Sterling’s eyes on her arms as she works the rolling pin.
“You should do that, like, all the time,” Sterling breathes. April glances up at her, half-amused and half-turned on at the sight of Sterling nibbling on a carrot stick while staring at April in such a way that makes it clear she wishes she was nibbling on something else.
“You realize we’re all still here, right?” Blair announces.
“Yes, Sterling,” Debbie adds, taking the rolling pin from April. “Close your mouth, please. Lord.”
April flushes, stepping aside. She loves the effect she has on Sterling, but she definitely didn’t mean to bring a weird charge of sexual tension into the Wesley kitchen.
“I think Sterling should help for a while,” Blair suggests. “Give her something else to focus on besides April’s buns.”
“Blair!” Sterling and Debbie say in unison.
“What? It was right there!”
Debbie sighs. “Well, I agree.” They all look at her, wide-eyed, and Debbie adds in a rush, “Not about April’s—you should help, Sterling! April could use a break.”
So April trades places with Sterling, enjoying the easy way their fingers brush as they pass, and settles down beside Blair, who’s looking at everyone with a rather self-satisfied smirk.
At first April enjoys the break—she’s been on her feet for a while—and watching Sterling and Debbie together. Sterling isn’t as comfortable in the kitchen as April, and Debbie has to direct her on the next steps more than once.
April can sense a little exasperation coming from Debbie, but it’s good-natured. When Sterling successfully rolls a section of dough into a recognizable (if lopsided) cylinder, Debbie claps her hands together. “Good job, baby! I’m proud of ya!” Sterling smiles triumphantly as Debbie presses a kiss to her cheek.
And that’s when April’s stomach drops. Suddenly all she sees is everything she’s lacking. Her chest starts to feel tight. She stands up, slipping off her apron and pulling her sweatshirt back on.
“Excuse me a second,” she whispers, grateful that Sterling and Debbie seem too absorbed in the task at hand to really notice.
April quietly slips outside, the lump in her throat getting bigger. It’s cold, but she barely notices as her feet keep moving. She walks about halfway down the block, trying to regulate her breathing.
She stops on the sidewalk, closing her eyes, and when she opens them, she realizes that she’s standing across the street from a very bright house. The house is practically dripping with blue lights, giving the effect of an ice castle. April lets herself get lost in the sight for a moment.
“Yo, Stevens!” she hears to her left, and when she turns, Blair is half-jogging toward her. “You okay?”
April obviously isn’t—her face is streaked with tears—but she nods. “Just admiring the lights. I needed some air.”
Blair eyes her suspiciously but nods back. “It was getting stuffy in that kitchen.” She holds up a bottle of Gatorade. “Here.”
“I haven’t run a marathon.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been crying nonstop for days. I’m worried about your hydration levels.”
“You’re worried about me?” April teases, an easy deflection.
“Shut up. If you collapse on my watch Sterl will never forgive me.”
April accepts the drink, despite never having had a sip of Gatorade in her life, and takes a long swig. Blair stands beside her, hands in pockets as she rocks on her toes, both of them looking out at the ice castle house.
“Quite the display,” April comments, because it’s something to say.
“Eh. I’ve seen better,” Blair replies. “Plus, the dude who owns that house is a total sexist asshole, so.”
“Personally, I’ve always found blue lights rather tacky.”
Blair cracks a smile. April shifts on her feet, aware that Blair’s probably either been enlisted to bring her back or is trying to get her inside before Sterling notices her absence. “Should we—”
“Y’know,” Blair says, voice a little heavier with emotion than usual. “When I found out about the Dana thing, I was so angry. Way angrier than Sterl. I never thought our family would feel like our family again, and sometimes I’m still really mad about all those years of lying. But then when I see my mom and Sterling together like that, it’s kind of like—okay, we’re still us. Maybe even a better version, because we don’t have secrets.”
“That’s great, Blair,” April says quietly. “But my family isn’t your family.”
Blair turns to face her. “I’m not saying it is. Look, I have no clue if your mom will ever come around. I hope she does. Either way, it’s okay to feel angry.”
April surreptitiously wipes a tear. “I’m well aware that it’s okay to feel my feelings. You said it yourself: I’ve been crying nonstop.”
“Yeah, but you also haven’t talked about it,” Blair points out. “And I get it. You’re in a relationship with Sterling. That shit’s hard.”
“I don’t want—” April pauses when she hears her voice catch, tries again, “Sterling shouldn’t have to make up for what my family lacks.”
“First of all, Sterling is completely in love you,” Blair says, like it’s a fact, and April could guess as much but it’s quite a thing to hear it.
“She told you that?”
Blair chuckles. “Didn’t have to. She’d give you the goddamn galaxy if you asked for it. And also, like—yes, in a perfect world, your parents wouldn’t be assholes. But they are. And you’re allowed to be hurt by that, and you’re also allowed to lean on other people. Doesn’t make you weak.”
April feels her brow furrow. It’s annoying, the way that Blair knows just what to say. It shows April how much Blair actually understands her, which is uncomfortable in all sorts of ways.
But April also knows—again, annoyingly—that Blair is right. That letting people in is, in fact, important. This week has certainly made that clear.
“I…” she starts. “I always knew that when I came out, I’d most likely lose my family. It shouldn’t be a surprise. I planned for it.” And she hears it then, the anger in her voice. Not just at her mom or the circumstance, but at herself. For wishing, despite everything, that maybe this could have gone differently. That maybe she could have been met with the same degree of love and acceptance present in the Wesley kitchen.
“And it still fucking sucks,” Blair supplies.
April finally turns to face Blair, seeing nothing but sincerity shining back at her. “Yeah,” she agrees. “It still fucking sucks.”
----
Blair suggests that the two of them should take a walk, promising that they don’t even have to talk if April doesn’t want to, so April sends a quick text to Sterling letting her know that she’s okay, and then she and Blair traverse the neighborhood, ranking various decorations on a scale from one to ten.
“Three,” Blair declares in front of one house with an intricate manger display.
“Three?” April repeats, incredulous. “Look at the attention to detail! That’s at least a six.”
“Too preachy,” Blair counters.
“It’s Christmas!”
“Yes, but where’s the interpretation? The style? I should feel pulled into the story of Jesus’s birth, not like I’m staring at a picture in a textbook.”
“What textbooks are you reading with pictures of Jesus’s birth?” April replies.
“Oh, you know what I mean.”
April laughs a little, in spite of herself. She wouldn’t readily admit it, but she’s enjoying her time with Blair. They’ve never really hung out just the two of them, but despite April’s many judgments and reservations about Blair, she’s actually pretty okay. Plus, April knows they would both willingly take a bullet for Sterling, so that’s a pretty significant thing to have in common.
Suddenly their phones buzz in unison with a group text from Sterling: u guys should get back here
“Uh oh,” Blair remarks with a smirk. “Think it’s a dough-related emergency? One that only your biceps can fix?”
April rolls her eyes. “No idea. Let’s go.”
They head back in the direction of the Wesley house with more urgency. April figures that Sterling just wants a break from her parents or something, so she’s not particularly on guard.
Which makes the moment when she sees her mom’s car in the driveway all the more shocking.
“Wait, I recognize—” Blair mutters, before cutting herself off with an, “Oh shit.”
April takes a nervous breath, and Blair reaches for her hand, automatically. April doesn’t shake her off, and they walk into the house like that.
Inside, April can hear voices before she sees anyone. Sterling is talking in hushed tones, clearly trying to restrain herself as she says, “And I’d never hurt your daughter, Mrs. Stevens.”
April squeezes Blair’s hand tighter before dropping it and rounding the corner. She doesn’t want to hear anymore. Jill is primly sitting on the couch, still in her church coat and heels. Sterling stands opposite her, flanked by Debbie and Anderson. Sterling and Debbie are still wearing their aprons, but gone is the lighthearted energy of an hour ago.
Sterling’s eyes get wide when she sees April and Blair. “Hey!” she exhales anxiously.
Jill spins to face them, mouth slightly agape. She stands up quickly. “Hello, April.”
“Hi Mom,” April murmurs, trying and failing to keep the quiver out of her voice. “What’re you doing here?”
“I came to see you,” Jill says stiffly. “But it seems I’m interrupting—”
“Should we all have some tea?” Debbie suggests, and April just has to shake her head, because it’s so much more grace than her mother deserves.
“No, thank you,” Jill replies, looking at April without meeting her eyes.
April can feel Sterling’s gaze on her, the pull between them that makes her want to run into Sterling’s arms. She knows that Sterling—and Blair, most likely—both have a lot they’d like to say to Jill. Sterling’s probably been working on her lecture since she got April’s phone call last week.
I love you, April thinks again, and she’s pretty sure Sterling is thinking it back at her.
“April? Can we talk?” Jill prompts.
“She doesn’t have to,” Blair proclaims.
“Blair,” Debbie says warningly.
Anderson takes a step forward, turning to April, “Would you like her to leave?”
“Anderson, this doesn’t concern you,” Jill says.
Anderson’s expression grows as hard as April has ever seen it. “Actually, Jill, it does. You and I have known each other since high school, so I feel like I can say that you’re making a huge mistake. April is a wonderful kid. I would be incredibly proud if she were my daughter.”
And oh God, of course the lump is back. April presses a palm to her mouth to keep a full-on sob from escaping. Sterling is staring at her pleadingly, actually holding her arms against her body to keep from running to April, but April shakes her head. A full-on display of their coupledom will only make things worse, she knows.
“I’ll talk to you, Mom,” she agrees in a small voice.
Want me to come with? Sterling mouths. April shakes her head again, forces what she hopes is a reassuring smile.
Jill nods, following April out of the living room and into the kitchen. The house is so quiet, and April is certain that the Wesleys will all be listening in—she can just picture Blair with a glass pressed against the wall—but she doesn’t really care.
Jill’s gaze darts around at the mess, the remnants of today’s baking adventure, the cinnamon buns rolled and rising in the pan, not perfect but good enough.
Finally her gaze settles on April, who knows how imperfect she herself must look in a dirty sweatshirt and leggings, her hair thrown up in a messy bun and bits of dried dough still stuck to her cheek.
“I saw you at church today,” Jill says, which isn’t a particularly strong opening, since April obviously saw her there, too.
“Yes.”
“So, you’ve been staying here?”
April nods. “The Wesleys have been incredibly welcoming.”
Jill purses her lips, but if she wants to make some snide remark about the Wesley family, she thinks better of it.
“Why did you come here?” April asks, because it sure seems like her mom doesn’t know what to say.
“Like I said, I wanted to talk to you.”
“About?” April doesn’t try to hide the coldness in her own voice. She’s not about to get into a debate on the merits of her homosexuality while standing in her girlfriend’s family’s kitchen.
Jill exhales and shifts from foot to foot. “I thought—well, I was all alone, on Christmas Eve. And I thought about how we’re each other’s family. The only family left. And it just seems wrong to spend the holiday apart.”
April’s jaw tightens. “That doesn’t change anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I still am who I am. I’m still gay and,” she takes a breath before her words can hitch, “and in love with Sterling.”
Jill’s eyes get a bit wider. “You love her?”
“Yes,” April says, without hesitation. “And.” She thinks of the four people on the other side of this house who have made this holiday a happier occasion for April than her parents ever did. April feels the tears bubble up, hears the crack in her voice, but still she pushes forward: “And you’re not my only family. Not anymore.”
Jill’s expression shifts. Not to anger or heartbreak, exactly, but to something close to understanding. “This will take some time for me, April. You have to give me that.”
“I’m not asking you for anything,” April points out.
“I never planned for this.”
And April wants to push back on that, because it’s pretty ridiculous for her mom to claim complete ignorance of April’s gayness when the closest thing April’s ever had to a boyfriend is Luke Fucking Creswell.
But in the interest of civility, and of not having a full-on argument with her mom here on Christmas Eve, she acknowledges, “It’s hard when plans change.”
“I’ve never handled it well,” Jill murmurs.
“Me neither.”
“But I don’t want to lose you.” April can tell that her mom is fighting back tears. “We’ve already lost so much.”
“I know,” April says softly, wiping a tear off her cheek.
There’s so much more to say but neither of them can access it right now. April yearns for an apology that she’s certain she isn’t going to get, or for her mom to remark on how lovely Sterling seems, and she feels stupid for wanting those things before remembering Blair’s words.
Jill attempts a smile before nodding curtly. “Alright. Well, I should let you get back.”
“Okay,” April agrees. She’s not going to fight for her mom to stay.
“Can I call you tomorrow?”
April is more surprised that her mom would even ask than by the request itself. It’s a level of respect for her boundaries that she’s never experienced with either parent. “Yes,” she decides.
Jill’s smile looks a little more earnest now. April walks her to the door, feeling the eyes of the Wesley family on her all the while.
“Merry Christmas,” Jill offers to them on her way out the door. Not the thank you they deserve, for taking in the daughter she all-but-abandoned, but Debbie and Anderson are too good to comment on that.
“Merry Christmas,” they reply, mostly in unison, though April hears a bit of a snarl in Blair’s voice.
“Merry Christmas, Mom,” April says, offering a small wave as she shuts the door.
She sags against it after, closing her eyes and breathing in slowly. When she opens them, Sterling is in front of her, eyes wide with concern. Blair stands about a foot away, Debbie and Anderson beside her.
“Cards on the table,” Blair says. “We heard everything.”
April lets out a noise that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob. “I figured as much.”
Sterling pulls her in for a tight hug. “Are you okay?” she asks into April’s hair.
“I have no fucking clue,” April replies soggily, then realizes her place and adds, “Sorry.”
“If ever a time called for that word, it’s right now,” Debbie replies, stepping forward to clasp April on the shoulder. “That was quite something.”
“I’m so sorry that she showed up like that—”
“I mean you, April,” Debbie interjects. “You are quite something.”
“And you’re right,” Anderson adds. “About having other family besides your mother.”
April can only nod in response, her body so overwhelmed with emotion that she starts to tremble. Sterling strokes a thumb over April’s cheek. “You wanna get out of here?” she asks.
“Yes please.” April exhales gratefully. She’s so appreciative of the Wesleys, but God, she needs to get out of this house for a little bit.
Sterling drives them in the Volt, the car quiet but not uncomfortably so. April doesn’t register where they’re headed until Sterling has pulled into a very familiar parking lot.
They’re at Willingham.
April can’t help but laugh, and Sterling grins at her. “For old time’s sake. You, me, this car, this parking lot?”
“Seems like yesterday,” April replies, and in some ways it does, but in other ways, it feels like a lifetime ago.
Sterling parks the car and they sit silently for a few moments. April peers outside, noticing that the school looks exactly the same from here.
“April,” Sterling says softly. “I wouldn’t have pushed you so hard to come out back then if I’d known—” Her voice catches a little, and April puts a hand on the back of her neck.
“It’s okay,” April whispers.
“But it isn’t,” Sterling argues. “It’s so unfair, and I just—you don’t deserve any of this. You understand that, right?”
“Starting to,” April replies honestly.
Sterling looks at her, eyes shimmering with tears, and April sees the affection she noticed earlier at the airport, but something else, too. A deep well of sorrow and understanding and love.
“You’re a remarkable person,” Sterling says, voice sure. “And I feel like I should have said this a long time ago, because it’s been true for a while, but I’m deeply in love with you.”
And April has known that, but hearing Sterling say it is different. Her heart squeezes tighter and her mouth goes dry and her palms start to sweat. “I love you, too,” she replies, because it’s all she can manage.
Sterling’s lips twitch. “So I’ve heard.”
April swallows hard, staring down at her fingers, gathering the strength to say what she needs Sterling to hear. “I’m so lucky to have you. I can’t imagine going through this with anyone else.”
“I can’t either.”
“You—” April stops, clears her throat, tries again: “You make my life so much better.”
“A zillion times better,” Sterling agrees. “Like, to infinity. And beyond.” She frowns. “Oh, that’s a Toy Story quote, isn’t it? Not so romantic, huh?”
“With you it is,” April will allow.
“Good,” Sterling sighs, and then she’s crossing the space between them and kissing April, mouth warm and open. April kisses back with as much passion as she can muster in her exhausted state—which is still a a lot, because this is Sterling, after all. She winds her hands through Sterling’s hair and pulls her as close as the center console will allow.
“Y’know,” Sterling whispers against her lips. “We’ve never actually done it in the Volt.”
“Well,” April replies between kisses peppered along Sterling’s jaw. “There’s a first time for everything.”
----
April had a plan for Christmas.
Her plan did not include being uninvited from her family home and taken in by the Wesleys like a lost puppy.
It did not include waking up on Christmas morning to the sound of a half-hearted argument between Debbie and Sterling about why Sterling is sneaking out of the guest room.
It did not include a slightly undercooked cinnamon bun as her Christmas breakfast, or watching with amusement as Sterling and Blair nearly come to blows over who gets to open the first present.
It did not include Debbie flashing her a world-weary smile, one that seems to communicate, “Can you believe these girls?” as though April is just as much a part of the family as anyone else.
It did not include Anderson running out to his woodshed and producing a beautiful if slightly uneven cat figurine that he presents to April with a sheepish, “It was a rush job.”
It did not include falling asleep between Sterling and Blair halfway through It’s a Wonderful Life, and waking up in horror with her head pillowed on Blair’s shoulder, Sterling grinning widely at the image.
It did not include a slightly stilted phone call with her mother, one filled with far too many awkward pauses, but that ended with Jill emphatically telling April that she loves her.
It did not include Sterling holding her after, pressing a kiss to her cheek and a warm cup of hot chocolate to her palm, telling April that’s she’s proud of her.
And it definitely didn’t include Sterling sneaking back into her room a little before one in the morning, stripping off her pajamas to reveal a matching lingerie set with the announcement that this is April’s actual Christmas present.
Yeah, April had a plan for Christmas. But the actual Christmas she ends up with turns out to be so much better.