Never Enough Winstons |The Outsiders|

All I Want For Christmas

→ Christmas for the Winstons.

Christmas was never an important holiday to the Winstons.

Hannah liked watching the twinkling lights as they lit up the streets, she liked the smell of pine trees and gingerbread in the air, she liked watching the icicles hanging from the apartment reflect the scene back to her, slightly distorted.

But she didn't like Christmas.

Like every other kid on the face of the planet, Hannah used to love the holidays. That was a time when she didn't recognize her mother working herself to the bone, trying to keep the illusion of a happy family alive, that was before the warm winter clothes she loved shrank, and they had no money for new ones.

That was before Dallas left, and she had to face their father alone.

The city was quiet on the evening of December twenty-fourth. Hannah sat on the windowsill watching the figures pass underneath her before escaping into the streets. Verna stood in the kitchen, silently stirring a pot of soup on the stove.

Charlie was nowhere to be found, and she was grateful. A knot of guilt tied itself in the woman's stomach as she stood there. Her husband was gone, her son was God only know's where and she hadn't said a single word to her daughter in nearly three days.

She cleared her throat softley and placed the lid over the pot while Christmas dinner simmered. Hannah didn't stir. She had been awfully quiet the past few days, and Verna couldn't help but fear it was her fault.

"I'm sure Dallas is alright, honey. He's probably just out exploring the world, like your father," she tried. Hannah shook her head, blonde bangs falling down in front of her tired eyes.

"It's been five weeks, Ma. Dally's never gone this long."

Verna was silent as she poured tomato soup from the pot into two small bowls. She carried the bowls over to her daughter on the window sill while soft music flowed from the radio.

The weather outside is frightful,

But the fire is so delightful.

Verna nodded her head in time with the music. "And since we've no place to go..."

She had a bueatiful voice, one Hannah inherited. Her voice was barely more than a whisper as she brought the spoon to her lips. "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."

Canned food was a staple in the Winston household, this was their eighth day of tomato soup in a row. Hannah cringed as the meal slid down her throat, oblivious to her mother rising from her seat, and waltzing around the kitchen.

Her eyes were closed in ignorant bliss. This wasn't the Christmas she had when she was a little girl. It wasn't the Christmas she wanted her children- child to have.

They deserved a night of music and full bellies, sitting beside the roaring fire, watching the flames glow on the wrapping paper of their presents.

"Merry Christmas, Hannah."

"Merry Christmas, Ma."

Merry Christmas, Dally.

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