When she wakes up in the morning, she finds her adult daughter lying at the end of her bed with photo albums. After digging some Christmas ornaments out of the closet the pair of them located old albums. Erin quietly slips out of bed, and heads towards the bathroom. Her mind wanders as the collects a pair of fresh pajamas.
By the time she vacates the bathroom she finds her daughter flipping through pictures again. Erin hovers over her wearing a pair of Christmas pajamas. The pages are filled with a small, chubby cheeked toddler version of Nicky. One of the pictures is Nicky sound asleep in footy pajamas on Erin's chest.
"Sometimes I do miss those days. You were a sweet, cuddly toddler. I remember that day you fell asleep while I was reading to you. You smelled like baby shampoo, and your dad scolded me for not putting you in bed. I ignored him, because for a moment I realized that the time was fleeting, and you would be grown in the blink of an eye."
Nicky looks up at her mother. "What are you wearing?"
"Christmas pajamas."
"You look ridiculous."
"Retail therapy is my only outlet these days. I also got you a pair."
Nicky grins, "I really want to be mad."
"But?"
"They are ridiculous, and admittedly pretty cute. Are we wearing pajamas all day?"
"We aren't going to Christmas eve Mass, or anywhere else. There are no rules for attire on Christmas eve during a pandemic."
"Since you are suggesting that the rules are out the window can we write a pro-con list?"
"I've already made a mental list."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't keep bringing this subject up. I know that you are undecided, and I respect that."
"I get the feeling that you have a point you feel it necessary to make."
"I understand your reservations. There are plenty of drawbacks."
"But?"
"I am blessed because you are my mom. That is all I want to say."
Hours later Nicky has headed to the shower, and Erin sits on the couch sipping a cup of green tea, staring at the glow of a little Christmas tree. As she exhales she catches a glimpse of her phone. It lies silently, face down on the surface of the coffee table. It beckons to her. She places the ceramic mug on a coaster, and lifts the phone from its resting place. With the touch of her finger it unlocks. In seconds she has navigated through her contact list. A lump forms in her throat as it rings.
"Are you calling to wish me a Merry Christmas?" A jolly voice teases.
She begins to lose her nerve, "Of course."
"You don't sound too convincing," he jabs.
"I just realized that we never did get around to discussing your Christmas plans. You let me yammer on, and on about Nicky coming home."
"The guilt was eating you alive, huh?"
"Obviously," she smiles.
"I am just going to spend the day with my mother. I am glad that the office saw fit to have all of us work remotely for the holidays. I hope it will keep any of us from getting sick. Speaking of which, you seemed a little under the weather when I talked to you about the Garrett case the other day."
"I assure you that I do not have an infectious diseases."
"That is good to hear."
"Are you at your mother's house now?"
"Nah. I'm not doing anything this evening. Why?"
"Do you think you could stop by here for a few?"
"Of course. Do you want me to bring anything?"
"No, thank you."
"Alright, I'll see you soon."
As Erin hangs up the phone she finds Nicky headed in her direction. The younger Reagan smiles widely as she wears a penguin union suit.
"I know it's not very late, but I think I am going to turn in. All of the movement through time zones has caught up with me," she announces standing behind the couch.
"Night, love you," Erin kisses her forehead.
Nicky leave the room, and heads off for bed. Erin proceeds to pace the floor until the party from her phone call arrives. She pulls the door open before he has a chance to meet. As the door closes he furrows his brow. It is only then that Erin realizes she is already wearing pajamas. In fact she is wearing flannel pajamas with a honking reindeer on them.
"You look festive," Anthony remarks.
"Sorry to call you over here on such short notice."
"No worries," he secures his coat on the coat rack.
Erin wrings her hands, "Have a seat."
He reluctantly lowers himself into a seat on her couch. Her anxious energy radiates from her perch on the coffee table.
"How much do you remember about election day?"
"We were both feeling pretty anxious about things. You were far more wrapped up in the whole process than I expected. We had a few drinks to take the edge off."
"Which is when you suggested we play a drinking game," Erin reminds him.
"Did we drink tequila? I've only ever had such a horrible, splitting headache after having too much tequila?"
"You found it in the back of the fridge from last year's New Year's eve party that I hosted."
"I remember the anxiety, and some of the drinking. It seems like we played poker while we were waiting on results. There is a lot of fuzziness until the next morning when I woke up lying here on your living room floor. It seems like I made nachos at some point, too. Why?"
"I believe that both of us were far more anxious about the results than either one of us initially was willing to admit."
"You beat me at poker, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"And drank me under the table?"
"I only have brothers," Erin reminds him.
"Did I make a move, or something? I apologize if I did. I honestly don't remember. Is that why you called me over here?"