𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 → 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

56. not good enough for her

saturday,
december 25th, 2020

LUKE HEMMINGS

"Oh! Merry Christmas, my boy," Grandma says as soon as she opens her front door, pulling me down by my shoulders to plant a kiss on my cheek.

Inevitably, I grin, "Merry Christmas, Ma. You need help with the mashed potatoes?" I ask as I step inside, the warmth of my grandparents' cottage enveloping me.

"If you don't mind."

She disappears down the hallway and into the kitchen. I quickly place the few wrapped presents I've brought under the tree in the living room. Then, I shrug off my puffy jacket, revealing my cream knitted sweater that's become a favourite of mine throughout the month. I hang my coat up by the front door, heading for the kitchen. Instantly, the aroma of freshly cooked turkey and gravy consumes me. My stomach unintentionally rumbles and I'm itching to sit down and eat already.

Grandma instantly hands me a potato masher and the full dish of peeled and boiled potatoes. I set them down for a moment, looking over to my grandfather who sits at the dining table for four, reading his newspaper.

"Merry Christmas, Grandpa," I smile, approaching him and giving him a hug from where he sits on the wooden chair.

He chuckles heartily, "And you, Luke. Are you ready to eat? There best be no lumps in my mash now," he warns jokingly, earning a laugh from me.

I head over to the kitchen counter after grabbing some butter from the fridge. I slice a few thin chunks, tossing them on top of the potatoes before using all my strength to mash them. I engage in some conversation with my grandparents as I do so, hearing all about how their neighbours bought them a gift card for M&S.

Mostly though, my mind is on my family. The other part of my family, I guess. The ones I can't spend today with, the ones who I'll never get to spend another Christmas with ever again.

I cried a lot this morning.

I woke up early — thanks to that goddamn window in my bedroom which I've yet to purchase blinds for — and all I could feel was loneliness and longing. I miss my parents and Ben so fuckin' much. I even miss Jack, when he was a decent brother to me. It's so hard to actually get out of bed on mornings like these — mornings that are meant to be spent with all your loved ones, people who shouldn't have been taken from the world so soon.

I'm beyond grateful for my grandparents, I don't know where I'd be without them. Right now, probably in a bar somewhere drowning my sorrows in liquor or even begging Cal to train with me to take my mind off shit. But, thanks to Ivy and Jim, I'm in a warm home, making Christmas dinner and smiling despite the traces of pain weaved along my heart.

"How's that girl you were telling us about?" Grandpa huffs, making his way to the fridge to grab some juice.

I frown, dedicated to ensuring the mashed potatoes are seamless and lump-free, "No girl," I shrug, dismissing the way my heart stops at the mention of her.

Grandma scoffs out a chuckle, "No girl, my arse!" she laughs, stirring the gravy, "Please. What was it? Two weeks ago? You came here all giddy with this shine in your eye that I know all too well, my dear. And I said, what's got you all smiley? And you said, a girl, Ma, then I said—"

"I know how it went," I sigh, "We aren't together anymore."

I think of her then, her dimpled smile and her mocha eyes that I adore. Her plump cheekbones and the way she blushes whenever I compliment her — or do other things to her. The way her voice sounds when she says my name, calls me Lu at that — something nobody has ever called me and something I don't want anyone else to ever say. It belongs to her, that nickname. I belong to her, every fucking inch of me is hers and I hate that I don't share that honour anymore.