Worth the Trouble ✓

21 | bigger problems

I'M ONLY WORKING NEW YEAR'S for the public holiday pay.

All the other cinema assistants are in high school or college. The prospect of waking up early for the morning shift didn't appeal to them. Probably because they've had a late night getting hammered out of their minds. This is fine by me because I'll sweep up the paycheck.

Of course, Suki and I got into an argument about how much I've been working over the winter break. I hate myself for raising my voice to her, about the Christmas Day mishap, when she made a simple mistake. We've smoothed everything over on the phone, and I swore to try harder to resolve my emotions calmly. I'll work through my issues by myself. Suki doesn't have to change a thing.

One of my coworkers pushes open the door to the staffroom, leaning her head in. "Someone's here to see you. Suki?"

"Yep. I'll be right out."

A sly grin overtakes her face. "Girlfriend?"

"None of your business."

Suki and I arranged to meet during my lunch break today. At the moment I don't have a lot of spare time. Her parents don't allow her to take public transport after dark. So this is the best we can do. It will be the first time we've seen each other since before school let out for Christmas, but I'm almost glad that's the case.

I needed the time to process our last argument.

Suki waits to the side of the ticketing line, a huge olive green parka dwarfing her torso. I couldn't pick out her pregnancy bump if I tried.

My gaze roams down the oversized garment, brows pricking up with amusement. Subtle.

Suki recognises my expression, and her lips stretch into a dry smile, eyes rolling. Best I could do.

We haven't said a thing to each other, but I know from our little exchange that everything's going to be okay.

In the staffroom, I pull her to me, bodies flush together, and kiss her on the cheek. "I'm a rude dick and Merry Christmas."

"I'm a forgetful asshole and Merry Christmas." Suki smiles back, shivering as she adjusts to the warmth of the staffroom. The tips of her nose and ears are a vivid red, like holly berries.

"Everything okay at home?" I ask, preparing two cups of cheap hot chocolate for us. I thump the lid of the tin with my fist. "How were the cousins?"

"They're fine. Mom mentioned that you came over on Thanksgiving, and now the girls all want to meet you."

My cheeks warm at the prospect. Suki's cousins are between the ages of four and twelve, which means screaming little girls. Flattered, but no thank you.

"Well, I think they'd be fucking disappointed if they ever did."

"They wouldn't," she scoffs. "They're already gone, anyways. Left on the twenty-eighth." Suki pulls out a tiny box from the depths of her snow jacket, barely larger than a ring box. "I, um, got you something small for Christmas."

Gratitude curls low in my belly; I never get many gifts. Dad is a functional gift-giver, a fan of socks, backpacks and clothing. Mom sends the predictable $500 on each important milestone: birthdays, holidays, graduations.

I unwrap the gift and slip the contents from the container. It's a miniature music box—without the box, though, just the notched cylinder and a thin metal crank. Smaller than my palm, and light as a matchbox.

Taking great care with the delicate mechanisms, I crank it through one revolution. The room fills with a romantic, lilting melody.

Suki lowers her mug of hot chocolate, smiling pleasantly at me. "It's La vie en rose. It means life in pink, or wearing rose-tinted glasses. Not like love-blinds-you, I don't think, but some people interpret it that way." Her cheeks puff out when she huffs suddenly, forcing her words into a firm sentence: "My point is. I bought it and it's the sappiest song, but you know, I get sappy around you sometimes."