We make it to Christmas Eve Day without another fallout. I mark a tally in my secret notebook whilst I'm in the bathroom, counting eighty-two days in 2002. Eighty-two out of forever. "What're your favourite Christmas movies?" Johnny asks. He's idling on his bunk, an arm hanging off the side. The thought of cleanly snapping radius and ulnar. "Mine's Die Hard."
"Which one?" I kick me feet onto the desk, rubbing a thumb over a scuffed toe. There's only one right answer. I've also only watched one.
"The first one, obviously."
"What about you, Eggnogy? What's your fav Christmas movie?"
She shrugs, lazing in the shadows like the lights are hot sun rays. "I like most of them."
"Even the Hallmark ones?"
"Oh lol. I don't really consider them movies anyways." And she's absolutely right about that.
Tom exits the bathroom with no less than his cheery demeanour. He's always like that, trying to uplift us with a smile or a terrible joke. But we respect it nonetheless. We've survived the last three months and I'm sure it's thanks to him. "What are we talking about?"
"Our favourite Christmas movies," I reply, spinning around in my seat. Tom fixates on a spot just below my face for a moment. He flips my collar out. A wave of cold and hot blossoms from my neck.
"Again? I thought Chrismtas was a couple of weeks ago."
"Nope." My voice is cinched. "Christmas Even is tonight."
He gives me the look, the one he's always cutting me. Something between confusion or amazement. He shakes his head and I think it's the latter. "How do you always know what day it is?"
"Ingerzfay. He's a human cal—"
"—culator," concludes Johnny. "Geez, Tom, keep up."
Eggnogy exhales sharply.
"So," Johnny continues, sitting up in his bunk, "what's your favourite Christmas movie, and why is it Die Hard?"
He leans on the desk and I collapse my legs, feeling the need to get as far from Tom as possible. "It's Love the Coopers. Have you seen it? It's nice."
Johnny and I scoff in unison. "Nice is a word you use to describe a tablecloth," I frown.
"Or a rubber duck," Johnny nods.
Ignoring his weird aside, I continue, "Objectively, you're wrong. How about The Polar Express? Or Home Alone? Man, even The Holiday works."
His lips contort, mind knotting to find a defense. "Well, if your taste is so good, what's your favourite Christmas movie?"
"Jingle All the Way. Or How the Grinch Stole Christmas."
Eggnog wrinkles her nose. "Still not as good as Die Hard," Johnny shrugs. "But better than whatever you said."
"Okay, I'm sorry I haven't seen many Chrismtas movies," Tom admits sheepishly. "My mum thinks they're corny."
That's new. Of the four of us, I really expected Tom to have the most supportive household when it came to Christmas movies. "What, you were only allowed to watch what mummy wants to watch?" Johnny teases. I dig a glare into him.
Tom is unaffected by the jeer, as he always is. "I think I've seen two Christmas movies. But it's not a big deal. I don't think that number is going to change for a while." He pushes himself off his desk and drags the bag off his bunk, changing the subject to breakfast and pilot training. Something he knows better, something that is a bigger deal to him.
