A Christmas Futa Ch 3

Riley’s mother, Mary, has all the Christmas hand towels and decorations out in the kitchen.

“It’s cute,” Mary says, peering into the box from the bakery. “Looks Swedish to me.”

“She’s gonna know,” Riley replies.

“But she won’t care.” Mary closes the box and hands it back. She wears a cute Rudolf sweater and warm slippers. Gurlberg looks like Christmas with all the garland and lights, and Mary’s house smells like sugar cookies. There just isn’t much snow in Florida.

Riley doesn’t even like gingerbread, but Ingrid is into it. Ingrid is into all sweets. Anything but pineapple.

“Look how late it is. I haven’t even seen her today.”

“It’s not late. Her note said dinner at eight, right? She’s obviously planning a surprise. Chill,” Mary says, going back to wrapping gifts. They’re interrupted by the sound of the door. It’s weird; the sound of Kayla coming home is still so familiar to Riley, even now that she’s moved out and lives on the other side of the country.

“It’s actually getting chilly,” Kayla says as she breezes into the kitchen, laden with shopping bags. “Mom, I got the stuff.”

“You make it sound like a **** deal,” Mary replies without looking up from her perfect creases. With shiny paper and whatever magic she puts into wrapping, her gifts look like something from a commercial. Riley’s tend to look like something found in a dumpster before being run over. She’s taken to using premade boxes, but she knows that Ingrid wants to tear paper. Just one more way that she’s a failure as a wife.

Kayla triumphantly lifts a red garment from the bag and swats her mother’s hands away from the tape and scissors.

“Go try it on.”

“OK. Take it easy.”

Mom is so chill. Riley stares in wonder as she takes the outfit away and heads upstairs.

“What is going on with her?” she asks.

“What?” Kayla’s gathering her bags.

“Nothing.” Riley stands there as Kayla also flees the room. The timer on the microwave goes off, and Riley takes Mom’s cookies out of the oven. She’s being helpful, although it’s not like Mom to forget the cookies are going and leave the room. This is all weird, and Riley doesn’t know if it’s because she’s tilted or if Mom and Kayla are really being strange.

Some other cookies are already cooling on a wire rack. Riley helps herself, then hears voices upstairs. Curious and munching, she heads up to find them both in Mom’s room. Riley chokes on her cookie.

They’re wearing little Santa outfits, but they’re a little short. These things are meant to be worn as a dress, but they are not getting the job done.

“What the hell, Kayla?” Mom asks. She’s not upset, but she makes a face as she examines her reflection. She bends slightly. “You can see my underwear.”

“I know. OK, yeah. These are…” Kayla scowls, pulling down on her own identical red tunic. “OK? These were supposed to be cute. Not like full slutty.”

“We have to wear leggings.”

“Yeah,” Kayla admits reluctantly.

“What are you guys doing?”

“We’re going out,” Mom replies, turning around and then looking over her shoulder to check herself out in the mirror.

“Tonight? Where?”

“The clubhouse.”

Riley doesn’t understand. “You mean with the bikers?”

“Yeah. We go there sometimes.” Mom pauses to stifle a yawn, then adjusts her chest and considers how it looks.

“Together?”

“Why not? It’s fun.”

“You almost let your cookies burn.”

“Did you get them?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks. Wait, Riley—aren’t you late? It’s Christmas Eve. Don’t you need to get moving?”