The first sound that penetrated my hearing like that of a bomb outside my window in the Revolutionary War was the most obnoxious Christmas song ever created. The horribly cheesy lyrics were tiny little bullets in what was a peaceful slumber. I knew the culprit immediately and if I’d had the energy I would have thrown my pillow at her.
Instead, I buried my face into the pillow, using my hands to push it around my ears and shouted as loud as possible with my mouth covered, “Shut it off!”
The volume increased as the chorus started up again and I groaned, slamming my head against the plush pillow. Pia paused the music just long enough for her to announce, “It’s Christmas! Get up! I made cinnamon rolls!” and set the player on my nightstand before leaving my room.
Blindly, I flung my hand up and hit the stop button. Relief washed through my body when the awful noise finally ceased.
I’d never had the pleasure of spending an actual Christmas morning with Pia and a rush of sympathy washed through me for her future husband. That wasn’t exactly a recipe for a joyful Christmas morning.
Not even bothering to try and tame my hair, I crawled out of a bed and slumped through the door. As soon as I stepped out, the fantastic scent of cinnamon and sugar overwhelmed my senses. All my anger washed away and the smell dragged me toward the kitchen like a dog on a leash.
“Merry Christmas!” Pia sang, holding up a plate of the freshly baked pastries.
I nodded enthusiastically, never taking my eyes off the treats, “Merry Christmas, indeed.” I plucked a roll of the plate before she could take them away. “Though I didn’t enjoy your wake up call,” I added before taking a delicate bite.
“Oh come on,” she whined now making her way toward the living room, “that’s a classic.”
“No,” I argued, following her, munching on my delicious breakfast, “It turns a religious holiday into something romantic when it is clearly not meant to be.”
“Jesus, you’re a downer, aren’t you?” Pia scoffed, plopping down on the couch.
I shrugged my shoulders and took a seat next to her, licking my fingers as I finished my food off. Christmas for me, was never meant to be about anything romantic. It was a holiday devoted to the birth of Christ and, of course, Santa and other winter icons, but asking for a boy as a Christmas present? It’s rather pathetic.
“By the way,” Pia brought up nonchalantly, enjoying her cinnamon roll, “Harry came by this morning.”
My blue eyes must have been the size of fifty sent pieces as I snapped my neck around, “He did?”
“Yup,” she threw the last piece in her mouth as if she hadn’t seen my reaction, “He figured you weren’t awake but he just wanted to drop some stuff of.”
“Drop some stuff off?” I asked, perplexed. Had I forgotten something at his flat the other day?
She motioned toward two red cards placed neatly on top of the TV stand, “He’s so sweet. One’s for me too.”
A smile crept up my face at his generosity, “That was nice of him.”
“Like I said, sweetheart.” she set the plate down on the couch carefully and sprung up to grab the cards. She handed the one with my name written out in a boyish scrawl to me swiftly, “I wanted to wait till you were up before I opened mine.”
For a few seconds the only sounds were ripping paper and breathing. I put my finger underneath the flap and tore across the top. A beautiful Christmas card was nestled inside. I slide it out and opened it slowly. An event ticket lay inside and as I read I realized it was a ticket to an ice show this afternoon.
YOU ARE READING
An Ocean Apart
FanficI was once told by my extremely wise grandmother that truly loving someone means putting their needs above your own. I’d always questioned the phrase, thinking how absurd it seemed that someone could leave their companion for their own good and stil...
