Reclusive- s.r

eleven

In my family, Christmas Eve has always been a big event. I prefer it over Christmas because the anticipation is simply the best part, and some of my best memories as a child are on Christmas Eve with my entire family. It's a big event, and then Christmas day is spent relaxing in pyjamas, watching Christmas movies on the couch. Then, we celebrate my birthday four days later, which involves waking up to breakfast in bed and doing whatever my heart desires.

This year, I'm turning twenty-one, so I plan on buying myself liquor the second the store is opened and drinking to my hearts content. Don't get me wrong, I've drunk before, but now I can finally do it legally. I grew up drinking homemade wine at the dinner table, or anything else that my parents were willing to give me. I had my first shot with my grandfather when I was sixteen years old.

This year, Christmas Eve is being kept small, because all of my extended family has other places to be tonight. Usually, my cousins would tag along, as well as uncles and aunts, but this year, it's just us, but I don't mind because I have Spencer here with me.

When we woke up this morning, we made our way downstairs to find out that everything had already been struck into motion. My grandmother was in the kitchen with my parents, all working synchronously with each other to get the meal for tonight all ready. I'm not even sure what's on the menu, but within seconds of entering the kitchen, I'm being thrown in front of a cutting board and passed a knife, being ordered to chop up something.

"Sorry," I mouth at Spencer, who just shrugs his shoulders and walks into the living room where my grandfather is. Over all the craziness in the kitchen, I can't hear if they'e having a conversation or not, or what they're even talking about. For all I know, he could be telling Spencer all sorts of embarrassing stories. 

A loud gasp pulls be from my attempted eavesdropping attempt, causing the large  knife to slip and cut my middle finger open. I wince and pull my hand away to avoid getting blood on anything, and everyone is immediately asking if I'm okay. Then, my grandmother is shooing me away and telling me "Get out before you bleed out onto our dinner." I rush out of the kitchen and into the hall bathroom, running my finger under cold water until the water going down the sink is clear instead of red. Then I grab a large bandaid and wrap my finger up, joining the men in the living room who are having a conversation.

"They kicked you out already?" I hold up my bandaged finger in response, and he breaks into a small laugh. Immediately, my grandfather is kissing it away, just like he did when I was little and fell off my bike onto the sidewalk, scraping my hands and knees. I sit next to Spencer on the couch, and he examines the bandaid on my finger, tracing the lines of my hands, and I glance at my grandfather cautiously to see if he's paying attention, but he's too focused on the tv.

"You shouldn't be allowed around pointy objects."

"Whatever you say, boy genius."

"If I'm boy genius then that makes you girl genius," he retorts and I roll my eyes. "Come up with something original, you mooch." My phone chimes against my leg, and I pause my conversation with Spencer to see a text from Nico, wishing me a merry christmas early. After we had coffee that one time, I hadn't seen him again after that. I think we both knew that there was no chemistry there, and we went our separate ways after that.

I glance over my shoulder to see Spencer reading the text thread with a frown on his face. I open my mouth, ready to explain myself to him but he gives me a tight-lipped smile and excuses himself from the room. I hear his footsteps go up the stairs and probably into my bedroom, and I glance at the tv, my lips turned downward. I can tell that the only other person in this room is trying to disappear, or at least pretend like he wasn't paying attention.