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A few weeks before Christmas, Luke learns that the Molinas have a small celebration every year. With a tree, some food – Tia’s famous arroz con gandules, usually – and each other.
“The people we love are all we need, right?” Ray keeps insisting. “That’s what’s most important.”
But Luke can't get behind it.
He doesn't know why. Normally, Ray would be right. His friends’ happiness would be enough to keep the passion for life thrumming through his veins.
Maybe it’s because it’s his first Christmas, really, since coming back to the strange half-life he, Alex, and Reggie were granted after Julie and the Phantoms played the Orpheum. And because the last Christmas he remembers before this one was less than stellar.
Maybe it’s the slow draining of hope that he’d been feeling before he died – the one that followed him into the afterlife, that even Julie can’t seem to drown out with her music. The sand in the hourglass of familial peace that had finally run out in the last December he was alive in 1995, and the regrets that followed him afterwards, like those last few stubborn grains that refuse to rinse away at the beach.
Maybe his idea of family is broken, no matter how much he tries to hide behind his friends. Maybe they'll never be enough, and it’s totally his fault, and the universe just decided that Christmas would be the perfect time for him to realize it.
It feels like everything is crashing down around him.
His friends, and the Molinas, spend the weeks up to Christmas preparing. Decorating, excitedly talking about presents they’re giving and presents they’re wanting. Reggie bakes cookies for Santa with Carlos and Ray; Alex makes a gingerbread house with too many gumdrops. Even Julie seems to have more Christmas spirit than Luke does this year. There’s very little trace of the emptiness Luke saw in her eyes when they first met; the longing for something she can’t have, something that’s definitely causing the holiday season to be lacking.
He wonders why. It isn’t like they’re all a substitute for Rose. He wonders how people move on, how they take what they have and arrange it all in front of the holes in their hearts to make it look like the holes aren’t there. And he wishes that he could do it, too.
But each day passes, and the hole only gets bigger. He watches the excitement of everyone around him build and build like snow on a mountain’s edge. But instead of letting it engulf him, instead of joining in it and sharing it, it just feels like he’s watching an avalanche form.
He feels less and less like a part of it all, and more like a jealous spectator.
And as much as he doesn’t want to begrudge his friends their happiness, Luke finds that he can’t wait for the holiday to be over.
It might not really snow in Los Angeles, but there’s a storm brewing inside Luke’s head as Christmas gets even closer.
As the days dwindle, and Carlos’ advent calendar loses its chocolate piece by piece, the clouds inside his mind get darker.
He wonders when the blizzard will begin, when he’ll inflict his icy pessimism and slippery, unpleasant emotions onto everyone else – his friends, who are actually trying to have a good Christmas. Who have things to celebrate this year, instead of just things to miss.
He’s pretty sure that an avalanche will come, courtesy of him, and crush all of their peace and dreams – just like what happened to his old family.
He hopes that it won’t, though. That he can put on a believable enough show that he’ll forget his worries entirely. That he’ll get swept up in everyone else's happiness enough to forget about his own sadness. And that all of the pretending and distractions will be enough to avoid disaster.
But by Christmas Eve, he isn’t sure how much more of it he can take. He’s passed through the territory from awkward, misplaced displeasure into barely-concealed anger. The line is precariously fuzzy, a thin branch dragged across the snow, and Luke knows it’s about to get buried.
Maybe he’s being dramatic. But he can feel it creeping up on him; the slow, steady anger that will eventually take control of his mind and his mouth and make him do things that he’ll regret. And, like an avalanche, he’ll be powerless to stop it. All he can do is try to breathe, even though his lungs are constricting. Try to get some space from it all, even though he knows he’ll still feel suffocated.
It turns out that Christmas Eve at the Molina house is a quiet affair. It’s just the three Molinas, Tia Victoria, Alex and Reggie, and himself.
(He isn’t sure if he necessarily
means
to put himself in his own mental group, but the thought is there before he can stop it. And as he looks around, it settles deep and cold in the pit of his stomach: he’s alone. He’s the only one feeling like this. It’s Christmas, and everyone is supposed to be happy, and he’s the buzzkill about to ruin it all.)
But he can’t do anything about it. Julie’s eyes sparkle as she laughs, carries on conversations, and she always checks to make sure Luke is laughing, too. Reggie offers him cup after cup of hot chocolate, and thankfully doesn’t notice when Luke dumps them all into the potted plants. Alex has spent the last few hours enamored with Willie, trying to locate every mistletoe in the house (which Luke watched Willie hang, and even
he
lost count at how many there were. He couldn’t believe all the different places there were in the Molina house to tie up leaves.)
Even after Willie left to go back to the Hollywood Ghost Club, the happiness still lingered. It should be contagious, but instead it makes Luke nauseous. He can’t help but think back, to remember all the happy Christmases spent in his own living room, in a time he can never go back to. With parents that kissed each other under their own mistletoe, while Luke looked away in childish disgust. With fresh-baked cookies and soft, calming records playing from the old phonograph Luke’s dad got as a gift from his grandfather.
How they’d dance together, and sing. How Christmas was the one day of the year that music was encouraged. Welcomed. Loved by Luke’s parents as much as he loved it himself.
He remembers the best one of all, when he was ten years old, and unwrapped a shiny acoustic guitar.
And he remembers the last one. Spent trembling in a musty garage with a greasy McDonald’s bag and friends who tried – and failed – to take Luke’s mind off of the mess his life had become.
Luke almost wishes that his friends would be as miserable about Christmas as he is. Every laugh, every smile, is another stab at his selfish heart. The room feels like it’s getting smaller and smaller, and as much as Luke wants to run away he knows there’s nowhere worth it for him to go.
There’s nowhere to go, because Ray is getting up off the couch and walking to the center of the room, mug in hand.
“I, um, I just want to make a toast,” he chuckles nervously, glancing between his sister-in-law and his son and his daughter, and her unlikely band of friends. Reggie perks up in interest. Alex fidgets on the couch, kicking his sneakers off and curling up against Reggie’s side. Julie curls up next to him, and Carlos takes a seat on the arm. Tia Victoria stands at Ray’s side, trading her mug for a wine glass – she’d been going back and forth anyway – and beaming.
“Ooh, you go first. But I’m sure I’ll have stuff to add!”
“Gracias, Victoria,” Ray mutters fondly. “But it’s my time to talk now. My house, and my family, and a Christmas this year that’s so… different from the last. And we have you boys to thank for that.”
He focuses his attention on them now; eyes passing over Alex and Reggie before landing on Luke, too, with the most sincere smile – and longing eyes – Luke has ever seen. Luke’s heart drops to his stomach as his eyes widen; he wasn’t prepared for a sappy speech. He doesn’t do well with emotions. And Ray shouldn’t be thanking them for anything.
Luke’s there for Julie. He thought they were all there for Julie. No bonus family, no new dad or aunt or brother. No obligation to celebrate anything except concert bookings and number one hits and maybe a world tour someday.
His connection with Julie is deeper than music, but Luke didn’t think he’d be stuck with another family to impress. And the weight of it hits him suddenly; it crushes him all throughout Ray’s speech he doesn’t listen to. About how they’re family and sometimes, the best ones are found instead of born, and how they’re all helping each other be better.
And how Ray is really, really glad they’re all together.
His speech ends eventually, although it feels like years. Everyone cheers and starts clinking their cups together – and then, Ray turns to him. There’s a box in his hands, one he must have picked up when Luke was distracted, trying to tune out the Christmas cheer going on, and Ray holds it out to him with a smile.
“So! Like I was saying, every Christmas we get a new ornament for the tree that has a special meaning; that’s sort of… defined our family for the past year. The tree’s made up of them… with one exception. But this year, I wanted to get back to it. So here’s what I picked out. I think it’s a really great one.”
Luke lifts the lid off the box with shaking hands. Inside is an intricate glass piano, its edges painted gold, with a shiny silver crank on the back. It’s a music box, Luke realizes. The last year for the Molinas was defined by music. By the ghost band that brought their daughter back to life.
Suddenly, it’s too much.
Luke can’t stand it anymore. Seeing everyone sitting there, laughing and dipping Tia’s homemade chocolate chip cookies into their glasses of egg nog – as if there aren’t three out-of-place ghosts intruding on a normal family’s holiday celebration. Being given a symbol that he’s suddenly a part of a family he feels like he hasn’t earned a place in.
No matter how much Luke loves Julie, he knows he doesn’t belong here. With her family, doing normal family things. None of them do, really; but Reggie and Alex don’t seem to mind it. They’re laughing in unison once again, Julie’s fond, twinkling eyes bouncing between them, and it’s all Luke can do to stay still and seated on the couch.
Discomfort curdles the one sip of egg nog Julie forced on him in his stomach. He feels out of place, like the Grinch who stole Christmas, and he feels anger consuming him more and more with each passing second as he watches his friends be happy when he can’t be.
Why aren’t they feeling the same way he is? How come they can have a good Christmas – feel at home and like they belong here, like they’re not missing anything, when Luke can’t? And why does it bother him so much?
He’s gone numb; suddenly, he feels the ornament slip from his fingers. Time passes almost in slow motion as it falls. It shatters to pieces against the hardwood with a deafening crash – the thunder for the storm that’s brewing inside his head.
“Ay! Are you okay, mijo?!” Ray reflexively jumps up off the couch and lunges towards him. “You didn't get hurt with the glass, did you? Oi , Victoria, grab me something to clean that up, please. Luke – hey, Luke, are you with me?”
He doesn’t want to be the lightning, but suddenly, he can't help it anymore. He's striking, not caring what the impact will be.
“We’re not a family! ” he exclaims, his shout breaking through the shocked silence. “How are you all just… sitting here like this? Like everything’s normal? ”
His icy glare shoots over to Ray, who flinches back, alarmed and confused at Luke’s outburst.
And why wouldn’t he? But Luke can’t bring himself to care. His heart should be pounding in his chest, but it’s silent, and somehow there’s still blood rushing to his head. The strange combination of humanness and cold lifelessness feels like a too-tight, too-itchy sweater. One he should really have gotten used to by now. But he isn’t.
Everything feels wrong .
He isn’t even sure why, what’s possessing him to be like this… but the anger is also a relief. His words are the ice pack on his fiery heart; he needs them to relieve some of the anger that’s boiling away inside. He needs a target for it; otherwise, it will burn him alive.
“How can you be happy we’re here when you wish we were your wife instead? How are you so happy that we’re part of your life when we aren’t even alive ? You say that we’re the best thing that happened to you this year? I know we messed up your life. Dragging your daughter into this stupid supernatural disaster she didn’t ask for. Taking up her place in your home. You don’t owe us any favors – it’s bad enough you let us stay in your garage. You don’t have to pretend to want us around for Christmas, too.”
His angry words echo off the walls as he surveys the damage they did. Reggie is crestfallen; eyes bright and sad at the thought that Ray doesn’t want them here. Alex is glaring at him, concerned yet angry that he caused a scene. Angry he upset Reggie. Victoria holds Carlos close, her trip for the vacuum forgotten; her nephew’s face is buried in her chest, and she looks solemn – the ever-present fire in her eyes giving away that she wants to say something, too. Except she has enough tact not to. Instead, she does the responsible thing and leads Carlos away. Luke barely notices as they disappear into the kitchen.
Julie looks just as upset, but there’s a hint of surprise present in her slightly open mouth. Her eyes dart between Luke and her dad, wordlessly waiting for something to break the tense silence.
And Ray…
Luke looks at him last. Slowly, reluctantly. Dreading the expected parental disappointment on his face – he’s used to that look; it’s all he ever really used to get when talking to parents back in the day. It’s familiar and shameful. No matter how many times Luke sees it, no matter how many times he causes it, it’s a punch in the gut every time.
He should have known that eventually, Ray would be on the list of parents he let down. Eventually his luck would run out, and the one-sided friendship they had – the one that Luke wanted more than anything to return, but didn’t, for this very reason – would crumble to the nothing it always should have been. It was only a matter of time until he pushed Ray away, too.
He has to get out; he can’t bear the disappointment. Doesn’t want to know what Ray has to say. No matter how much he deserves the confirmation that he destroyed their already shaky, almost-amicable relationship, right now Luke can’t bear to see it.
The storm is in full swing, only now instead of in his mind, he’s inflicted it on all the people he cares about. The roar of the thunder echoes in his ears; the clouds have burst, and there’s only one thing left to do.
Like the lightning he’s been waiting for all along – bright and passionate and angry and fleeting – Luke gets up off the couch and runs for the door. His friends – and Ray – just sit in shock, silently watching him leave.
He makes it to the end of the Molinas’ property line before he realizes he has nowhere to go.
His only options are going back into the house, answering for his outburst… or going to his parents’. Except the phantoms don’t yet know if the magic Julie’s extended to them works on anyone close to them except her family. Luke’s been too afraid to check. And Christmas is the worst possible time to potentially go knocking on his parents’ door.
Somewhere inside of Luke wonders if they’d even want to see him anyway. He’s already ruined enough of their Christmases. He plops down on the grass at his feet with a heavy sigh.
Sometimes he wonders why he’s so good at destruction. A chill runs down his spine that has little to do with the weather as he realizes: he is the problem here. First, he destroyed things with his parents, and now with Ray. Dying and coming back as a ghost has meant nothing. He still can’t appreciate what he has. Can’t see the good in himself, or the worth in someone wanting to spend time with him if it doesn’t have to do with music. He could never let himself fit into the Molina family because he always knew he would mess things up somehow.
If Luke is on Earth somewhere, and there’s a parent around to fight with, he just has to make it happen. And this time, it was Julie’s parent, someone who’s never been anything but nice to them. Luke has always suspected Ray has had an ulterior motive – there’s always been an edge to their conversations. Ray’s always seemed to be silently judging him for something , so Luke has never stepped one toe out of line around him (until now, at least). He’s avoided Ray as much as possible, really, because eventually he knew he’d go too far. Then Julie would lose the band – she’d lose music , again, because of him, because he can’t not butt heads with a parental figure. He knows this. He’s cursed. And now he’s hurt not only Ray, but Julie. Carlos. Tia Victoria… and Reggie and Alex. He probably ruined their Christmas, too. The two people who have always been there for him, whose Christmases before this one have also been filled with loud judgment and sour words.
He's a terrible person. A monster. The kind of dreadful creature kids read scary stories about -- he's sure he'll be in someone’s nightmares tonight, the harsh words he just spat front and center, playing over and over again like a terrible movie.
He wishes he could tell everyone that he never meant to say them.
"Why is this so miserable? ” Luke groans, embracing the insanity that comes with complaining aloud to yourself in an empty backyard. "Why can't I just be happy? Why do I have to be such an asshole…? Jesus, I’ve really lost it. Now I’m talking to myself.”
"I find that most problems can be solved easier once you’ve got some chocolate in you.”
Luke startles; he thought he was alone out here -- just him and the wind. He twists around to see Ray standing in the back doorway, his Santa hat hanging off his head and two mugs in his hands.
"Rose taught me to make it like this," he continues, taking a small step closer to where Luke is standing, hunched over by the fence. “She always used to say the cinnamon had magical healing powers.”
He lets out a quiet snort, shaking his head. “I never believed her, really, but hey. I’m never gonna complain about cinnamon in my hot chocolate.”
Luke doesn't reply, so Ray gets to the point. He holds out one of the mugs to Luke, and Luke takes it hesitantly.
"Do you want to tell me what’s going on with you, mijo?"
Luke winces at the affectionate nickname, quickly trying to disguise it as a shiver as he pulls his flannel shirt tighter around his body. He doesn’t answer Ray’s question.
Ray's knowing eyes appraise Luke's stiff form for a moment, from his pale face to the flannel wrapped tightly around his torso. "It's kind of chilly tonight,” he says. “Fitting for Christmas, though, I guess... "
"Yeah," Luke replies through clenched teeth, grateful for an excuse. The mug in his hands is warm, and the feeling keeps him grounded to reality as he watches the marshmallows float slowly on the surface. He lifts the mug to his lips, letting the warm sweetness of the hot chocolate wash over him. He shuts his eyes, willing it to clear his head, but it doesn't work.
"Sometimes I wish we got snow in Los Angeles..." Ray sighs wistfully, looking out at the gray night sky and the grass that’s stayed stubbornly yellowish-green all winter. “One year for Christmas, we went on this cross-country road trip, because none of us had ever seen snow before. I know, it’s silly. But neither mine nor Rose’s families really traveled much. So the three of us – me and Rose and Trev –”
Ray cuts off abruptly at the mention of their old friend, and Luke can feel his eyes burning holes into the side of his face. He doesn’t turn around.
“Anyway,” he quickly recovers, “we went away for a few days. Drove up to Big Bear Lake and rented a cabin. The drive there – oh boy. It was an experience. I think it was the most alive we all felt in years.”
Luke doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to know anything about how Trevor Wilson spent his Christmases without them. Ray seems to realize this, because he changes the subject pretty quickly.
"Hmm," he hums, glancing over to the door and then back to Luke. "Maybe you should come inside and warm up. Your friends are missing you, you know."
Luke's eyes narrow; usually, in battles with parents, his friends are used as a weapon against him, not bait to lure him in like a lake trout. "I’m sure they aren't. They've got each other. And... and you . You’re all family , remember?”
He doesn't mean for the last part to come out as a sneer -- doesn't mean to be offensive -- but, of course, his mouth is once again not in line with his brain. It just does what it wants. And what it wants is to hurt Ray's feelings the way he is hurting.
But it doesn't succeed. Ray isn't thrown; he barely reacts to Luke's harsh tone. All he says is, "The family's not complete without you there, though."
"See, why do you have to say shit like that?" Luke groans. "I'm not your family! And you aren't mine."
“I think ‘family’ can be a lot of things,” Ray says. “People who’ve raised you; your parents, siblings – sure. But I think it’s mostly about the people you choose . Who you can be yourself around. People that just get you, no matter how the world brought you together.”
He gestures for Luke to follow him, and then turns and heads back towards the house. Despite the storm still raging in his chest, Luke feels his feet carrying him there, too. Because… Ray doesn’t seem mad . And that is enough to give Luke pause; enough to make him want to figure out why.
Because he messed up. Ray should be mad.
“Once I met Rose, and before the kids, we – and, um, friends of ours, and Victoria – usually just had our own Christmas celebration. We’d travel a lot, go to lots of different places and meet lots of different people. See how they celebrated. Rose always used to say that it was the people who made the holiday, not the trees or the cookies or the presents.”
Ray pushes open the door and disappears into the hallway. Luke’s eyes pass through the empty living room – and immediately find the ornament, still broken on the floor. His heart clenches at the reminder of what he’s done; instead of letting this year’s Christmas be defined by music, by togetherness, Luke’s let it be defined by anger. By jealousy. Two things he hates feeling; hates even more inflicting on others, but that always seem to follow him around wherever he goes.
He wishes they’d leave him alone.
He hears the closet door open and shut, and then Ray is back with a broom and dustpan. Luke meets him in the middle of the room and takes them from him. He walks over to the mess by the tree, still listening to Ray’s words as he sweeps up the glass shards, careful not to miss any.
“When she died, I couldn’t… believe that Christmas could still happen,” Ray admits, lowering himself onto the couch with a dry, self-deprecating laugh. “I know, it’s silly. Of course it would. But it didn’t feel like it should . I pulled it together, though. Julie and Carlos are too important to me to ever let a special day go by in sadness. So we’ve all been making it through. But it’s never been the same.”
“I knew it was gonna be bad,” Luke mutters, as he sweeps the remaining glass into the dust pan. He gets up and crosses the main floor to the kitchen, dumping it all into the trash before turning back to the living room. “I just… I didn’t realize how – I tried to just, like, pretend it wouldn’t be? Because then I wouldn’t have to think about it. But–”
“Trying not to think about something does tend to have the opposite effect, hmm?”
There’s silence as Luke returns to his spot on the couch, feeling Ray’s eyes on him the entire time. The seconds stretch out in front of him and make talking seem more and more impossible. But eventually, he can’t take the silence anymore. There’s something he has to say, and all he can do is hope that Ray will be the right parent to hear it.
“I’m sorry for ruining Christmas. And for saying all that stuff to you. You’ve been nothing but nice to us… and it was really awful of me.”
Ray examines him with a kind and careful eye for a while before answering. “You didn’t ruin Christmas, Luke. You’re just hurting. Maybe we should’ve done more to help you.” His voice is calm and unwavering, despite the subject matter of his words. “It’s hard to… get back into the holiday spirit when there’s lots of change in your life. Do you know what we did, the first Christmas after Julie’s mom died?”
Finally, Luke lifts his gaze. “What?”
“Almost nothing,” Ray says. “Julie didn’t want to do anything. Victoria made sure to keep Carlos entertained, with all those Christmas shows and a couple of fake Santas at the mall – and she tried to drag us along too, I’ll give her that. But… Julie wanted no part of it. And, no matter what I tried to tell myself back then, do you know what, Luke? I felt the same way. Staying home, doing nothing… just being around my kids, not having to put on this big facade that we were having a good Christmas… it felt a lot more bearable that way.”
Ray Molina, one of the most resilient people Luke knows, curling up and letting the misery have him? Letting his guard down, letting himself feel the pain of losing his wife – putting it before his children? It doesn’t sound like the Ray sitting in front of him now, but… Luke wasn’t there back then. He thinks about how much Julie changed in those first few weeks after they met. And he supposes there’s lots of different versions of the people he loves now. Past and present and future ones, ones they could have been if they’d made different choices, experienced different circumstances.
It’s admirable, really, that Ray has kept his head up this long. He’s always putting his kids first – and Luke’s still heart sinks down to his shoes at the reminder. A parent who puts his own feelings aside for his kids? Who, although he can feel and acknowledge those less-than-ideal emotions, realizes that his children need him, and steps up to help them?
“Tia did actually make us get out and do some things. I helped her put some lights on the house, and we all went and volunteered at the homeless shelter. And she dragged me to her company Christmas party. But…”
Ray trails off, eyes far away and sad as he looks into yet another window to the past Luke doesn’t have access to. Last Christmas, he was in a dark room with no concept of time. His heart cracks in his ribcage again as he thinks about all the times Julie could have used his help, if only he’d had a chance to be there for her.
“Something was always missing, you know? And it’s always going to be – so all we can do is try to carry on as best we can without it.”
“I can’t stop thinking about what my parents do for Christmas now.” The words are out before Luke can stop them, his mouth racing ahead of his mind in a way that it’s so famous for – and, as much as he wishes he could take them back, make it so he’d never spoken at all… there’s also a sense of relief to them. “I can’t help wondering what they’re doing this year. Right now. And I can’t tell if I want them to be happy, be okay that I’m not around anymore, and just… have a good Christmas, or if I want them to have just… stopped doing fun, happy family things without me.”
“Well, from what I’ve seen, you don’t seem like the type of person who wishes pain on people.”
“You didn’t see me when we first got back. With Bob– with Trevor,” Luke mutters. “Like, normally, yeah. I wouldn’t be… thinking about that. I wouldn’t
want
them to be having a miserable Christmas, missing me like I’m missing them. But there’s something so… unfair about it. About them… moving on without me.”
“It’s easy, when you’re in pain, to wish that other people are hurting too,” Ray nods. “I get it.”
“But that’s selfish. And I don’t
want
them to hurt!”
Luke pauses for a moment, biting his lip in apprehension. He fidgets on the couch, his mind whirring with how he’s supposed to word the mess going on in his head. But Ray waits patiently, and eventually, Luke’s shoulders relax and he’s able to take in a breath.
“With Bobby, it was different. Because I was mad at him, ‘cause he stole our songs and moved on like we never even existed. And… with my parents, I saw how sad they were. Like, on my birthday and those other times I went there. I just… couldn’t help myself. But I wish I didn’t! Every single time I went there I wished that I could stay away. It’s like… something just… carried me there.”
“What do you think that was?”
“I guess I felt like I deserved a front row seat,” he says solemnly. “Like, I did that to them, so now I have to face it. Going there is my… punishment for running away.”
He fidgets on the couch, curling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his body. He buries his face in his lap, not wanting to see the pitying expression undoubtedly on Ray’s face. But, now that he’s started his rant, once again he can’t stop it, and the words spill out of him without him even thinking about what he’s going to say next. Pouring his heart out to Ray Molina in front of broken ornament glass is not the way he expected his first Christmas as a ghost to go.
“I have all these… feelings. That I can’t get out. They have nowhere to go except music – and I can write a million songs, but my parents are never gonna hear ‘em. So, like… do I want them to have moved on like I never existed, caroling and baking cookies and wrapping that stupid shedding tinsel around the handrail over the stairs? Or do I want them to be sitting there, crying, holding a framed picture of me as they think about all the stuff they never got to say? Do I want them to be as miserable as I am all the time?” His voice cracks as he asks the most important question of all: “What does that say about me if I do?”
“It says you’re in pain,” Ray says simply. “It says you have too much love to give and nowhere for it to go, so it turns into anger. Your emotions are suffocating you, and you’re letting them, because you don’t feel like you deserve the help. But I don’t think you really want your parents to be miserable.”
“I don’t?”
Ray shakes his head at him. Then, he moves closer and, once Luke doesn’t cringe away, puts a comforting arm around his shoulder.
“Like I said, Luke, you’re a good kid. You wouldn’t want your parents to suffer without you. You just miss them, and you want them to miss you too. But, you know something? They do. Every single day. I would know; I’m a parent too. A parent who’s also lost someone he loves. I understand.”
“But I don’t want them to miss me,” Luke says. “I mean… I don’t want them to forget me, or hate me. I’ve always hoped that maybe they'd even… forgive me, eventually, for what I did. But I also don’t… want them to hurt.”
“You can’t help that, though. Grief is going to be present in their lives no matter what,” Ray says. “But it’s not your fault.”
“I’m the one who died! Because of a stupid mistake I made – which was the grand finale after dozens of other stupid mistakes. The last few months of my life were nothing but screw-ups… and I can’t go back.”
“It’s like I said. Sometimes all we can do is pick up the pieces we have left and carry on. And know we’re not alone, and that we have people who love us who want to help us do that. Right?”
“But that’s bull,” Luke mutters, pulling his legs up as he tucks himself deeper into the corner of the couch. Ray watches and adjusts his own position to complement Luke’s; he slides away, very slightly and subtly, but Luke appreciates Ray’s sensitivity to his need for space.
“No offense to you or anything – like, you say you care, and that’s… super cool of you, really, Mr. Molina. You don’t have to care about us. And I know Reggie and Alex and Julie care too… but how can everyone just move on? Like nothing happened? Just… be okay with everything being so different?”
“Because you all still have each other, and you understand what you’re going through. So if you’re struggling with… adapting, you have people to talk to.”
“I hate that,” Luke says, shaking his head before Ray is even finished speaking. “I hate talking about my feelings. It’s…”
Ray gives him a knowing half-smile. “Bull?”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“Everything will work out for the best, Luke,” Ray assures him. “For as long as you’re here with us, you’re family. We’ll figure out the rest as it comes up. But if it all feels like it’s too much, you should let someone try and help you… instead of breaking Christmas ornaments.”
Luke looks away, embarrassed, but Ray just lets out a quiet laugh. “Think you can be okay with that?”
As he risks a glance back up, Luke can’t really detect anything but sincerity in Ray’s expression. A small smile finds its way across his face too as he thinks that maybe, as inconvenient and unexpected as having a parent being forced upon you twenty-five years after death is, maybe he kind of lucked out a little bit. They could all do a lot worse than Ray Molina.
“Okay… you’ve got a deal.”
A wave of relief and calmness overwhelms him then. The crisis is over, Ray doesn’t hate him, and they can all move forward with Christmas as best they can, with renewed hope.
There’s just one thing left for Luke to do before he can put this whole mess behind him and look to the future.
“Now… I should probably go apologize to Julie and the others.”
Ray smiles and wishes him luck; and off he goes, to let his found family know how grateful he is for them.
A few hours later, when his mind is clearer and the sky is darker and his friends are no longer worried about him, Luke sits outside in the backyard again, staring up at the starless sky.
Everything is peaceful. He wonders if his parents are still awake now, thinking back to all the Christmas Eves where Luke would drag them outside on the patio, trying to get a glimpse of Santa’s sleigh in the vast blackness. They never found it, of course, but they were always happy to sit with him. (For a short while, at least. Luke never had long before his mom would try to rush him off the bed, eager to get all the presents set up so she could get a few hours of sleep herself, before he woke her up again before the sunrise.)
Christmas is different now; Luke is different, and so is the world around him. But for the first time, he’s wondering if ‘different’ doesn’t have to be bad. If he really can make the most of it, let himself accept a new family in the Molinas and keep celebrating for as long as the universe will let him.
A sound by the door alerts him to someone’s presence, and he jerks around to see Ray again, bags under his eyes and Christmas cookie in hand.
“I thought you’d be asleep by now, mijo.”
This time, Luke doesn’t cringe at the nickname, but he does let out a half-hearted laugh at the idea of him being asleep on Christmas Eve. Even though he and Reggie and Alex actually get tired like full-on lifers do, and need to sleep now, some habits never die. And Luke’s restlessness before the holidays (even ones he isn’t really looking forward to) is one of them.
“Nah. Waiting up for Santa.”
“Well, sorry to disappoint, but you’re looking at him.”
At this, Luke manages a smile. “Don’t let Carlos hear you say that.”
“Carlos says he’s too old to believe in Santa anymore, but… we still have to keep the tradition alive, yeah? And part of it is you kids pretending to act like you don’t know how everything got under the tree in the morning. At least humor me.”
He winks at Luke playfully, and this time Luke manages a weak chuckle in return.
“Think you can play along?”
“Yeah. I think so,” Luke agrees easily. “It’s not like Carlos is gonna ask any questions about a pile of presents with his name on it. Actually… come to think of it, neither will Reggie.”
They laugh together, and when the moment passes Ray claps a hand down on Luke’s shoulder and leads him towards the house. “Alright. We should get inside. Santa doesn’t come if you’re awake, you know.”
“Hey, wait. Ray?”
“Mhm?”
“D’you think I could help, actually? With the presents?”
“You want to help?” Ray’s eyebrows quirk up in surprise, and Luke nods.
“Yeah. I just… I want to try to make Christmas magical again. If not for me, then for everyone else. Is that stupid? It’s probably stupid. But, like… the guys – Julie – everyone’s done so much for me and sometimes I’m a dick and don’t know how to tell them that I… appreciate it. So like, maybe putting out the presents, making sure they all have a good morning tomorrow… Maybe that’ll help me feel better?”
He watches Ray’s reaction – he’s staring at him, and Luke tries to camouflage the intensity of the hope in his eyes. Tries not to make this sound like as big a deal as it somehow is.
But Ray just smiles. “I think we can keep Santa between the two of us this year.”
Luke and Ray work well into the night, carefully wrapping and labeling presents and sorting them under the tree. They work in mostly comfortable silence, with some questions from Ray here and there about what Luke’s Christmases were like when he was alive – and, surprisingly, Luke finds he doesn’t mind them too much. Ray tactfully avoids asking about that last Christmas, and Luke doesn’t offer up any information. Those kinds of stories take time.
But Ray does tell him about Christmases with Rose; how the lights seemed to shine brighter, the hot chocolate was sweeter, and all those Hallmark movies that played on their television over and over again didn’t seem so sappy.
And he can’t help but notice the sadness in Ray’s voice, the shadow of Rose’s passing that still lingers over his life and blocks some of the sunlight he wishes he was able to share with his children.
Luke can’t help but wonder if this is how his parents talk about him. If they still do.
“Ray?”
“Hmm?” Ray doesn’t look up from where he’s tying a ribbon around Carlos’ new bicycle helmet, but Luke can tell that he’s listening. He clears his throat – takes a moment to stall – before he asks the question that’s been on his mind through their whole conversation.
“If you could… um, this might be a stupid question. Sorry.” He laughs nervously, expecting Ray to wave him off. Give him another box to wrap; ask him to grab more tape from the kitchen drawer. But he doesn’t. Ray keeps his eyes on him, as attentive as he would for Julie or Carlos, and Luke’s heart tugs again. That familiar anger – grief, he realizes; missing something he can never have again – flares up in his chest. But this time, Luke swallows it back down.
“If Rose could hear you right now. If she were like, here, watching us all get ready for Christmas, sad that she couldn’t be a part of it, what would you tell her?”
He looks at Ray with wide eyes, willing the tears to stay back – willing Ray not to notice them.
But all he does is shrug as he gives Luke an answer he wasn’t expecting at all.
“She is a part of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mijo, when someone dies… that doesn’t mean they leave your life. It may be harder to celebrate…. sometimes, everything in you may ache, wishing they were there. But they’re always a part of it. Rose is a part of everything I do. Every day, I think of her – I like to think I’m living for her, in a way she’d be proud of. Everything I do for Julie, and for Carlos… and now for you boys, I do it with her in mind.”
Ray's eyes are too caring, too intense, so Luke looks away, his hands fidgeting with the buttons on his flannel. "I've been thinking about them. My parents, I mean. And how they're....dealing with the holiday."
“I can’t really tell you if your parents are sitting on their living room couch right now, crying in front of their tree,” Ray says sadly. “I’m sorry. I know you want to know how they’re doing. That you want them to be okay. But I don’t have that answer, I’m afraid. But what I can tell you is the way someone who’s dealt with a loss handles the holidays: however they can. However feels right to them. Ideally, you’d like to… honor the one left behind, without losing too much of yourself. Change things in just a way that they feel… familiar, but not so much the same that you’re drowning in that person’s absence. Too much change at once can be daunting.”
“I think… I hope that by now, they’re doing okay.” Luke’s stare drifts towards the Christmas lights on the tree; he watches the glow on each bulb fade in and out, giving the impression of stars twinkling in a dark sky. “That they’ve figured out a way to do it without me. And that… even though we can’t be together, they know somehow that I wish we could. That I still… love them. And miss them.”
“I hope that, too,” Ray says. “And I really think they do.”
“But, like you said… for now, I have other people to make new memories on Christmas. And I’m really glad for that.”
“I’m glad too,” Ray smiles softly. “Merry Christmas, Luke.”
Luke smiles back, relief and comfort flooding his heart – along with a new hope, that the rest of the Christmases he gets to spend with the Molinas will be a lot happier for him than the last.
“Merry Christmas, Ray.”