Blanket of Stars (Chaelisa ver.)

Chapter 11: The Face of an Angel

Editor's note: I'm gonna ask you guys for a favor now. Please suspend all disbelief and pretend with me that it's possible for it to be winter around Christmas in New Zealand. I tried to work this story out in a south korean setting but somehow it felt really off and I'd have to make many more adjustments, so apologies if the immersion is somehow broken by this fact. Also apologies to anyone who has lived or is living in NZ right now as I imagine it's harder to suspend disbelief in this case. 

When I was thirteen, half of my class was off school with the flu. I used to think that they should just suck it up and get to school because, really, six hours wouldn't kill you. I'd never had the flu before. Two days later when I woke up with it, I fast changed my opinion. As a result, I'd missed a week of school and, in all honesty, I knew I was well enough to return back, but I liked the attention my father gave me. He even took time off work to take care of me. On the Monday morning it was decided for me that I had to go back to school.

When my father crept into my room to wake me, I told him my head hurt and thought we best stay on the safe side by letting me sleep it off. He smiled and told me to forget about it.

My heels hit the stairs harder than necessary on my way down, dressed and reluctant to attend the prison-like building. It wasn't until we drove in the opposite direction to school that he told me we were going Christmas shopping instead, but I had to promise not to tell my mom and also had to go to school the next day. No buts.

Having the flu for a week made it worth it.

We saw five different Santa's in town that day and one of them couldn't have weighed more than one hundred and thirty pounds.

During the day, I bought some fake snow and sprayed some of it on the corner of the kitchen window as a tester. It didn't say on the can that it would take three months for it to disappear.

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It isn't going to be too long before Christmas rolls around once more. I wonder what Lisa is doing. Part of me hopes she isn't leaving for the holidays.

"Why are we here?"

I look to Lisa walking next to me, her teeth chattering from the bitter cold. "You'll see," is all I say in response. We're on our way to a river. I like sitting on the bridge above it when the current is moving in the opposite direction. It's nice in the winter, but it's beautiful in the summer.

"You're vague, you know that?"

"I do," I reply, casting her an amused sideways glance. The trees surrounding us don't make me feel claustrophobic and I'd never say it out loud, but Lisa looks adorable wearing that hat. "You're walking too slow, hurry up," I tell her, only half joking.

She smirks. "You're lucky I can't see you or I'd shoulder check you, or something."

"My dead body is shaking."

The smile attached to her lips falls and a tension suddenly looms over us.

"Take the next left," I say quietly.

I walk behind her, allowing her to see the view first. I've seen it countless times before. I don't have to look at it to know how, at the side of river, there's a fallen dead tree that is almost daring you to walk across it to reach the other side. I don't need to look at the trees to remember how they look in full bloom. I don't need to look at the water to know that, in this winter weather, it appears dark. I don't need to look to know that it's still beautiful.