𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 - 𝐁.𝐄

forty four - august

•
julia.
•

december 25th.

nothing happened. nothing at all. we ended up dozing off on the couch with our heads resting on opposite ends like we were just two strangers who happened to fall asleep on the same couch. with our legs twisted and tangked in a mess of limbs—being knotted and twisted beneath the ridiculously large plush blanket that would trap the heat and make you sweat for being under it for literally only five minutes, yet somehow it held such a comforting and such sweet familiarity in its own way, pulling us closer in a way that our words never could.

the television flickered in the darkness, the glow casting shadows across our faces as we slept. some other christmas movie had started playing and running on in the background as we slept, its cheerful music filling the room. i kind of wished this moment that would last forever, along with every other moment that i've spent with her. i'm still surprised the tv didn't just shut off in the middle of the night, as we were too far gone in our own thoughts and too tangled in our own dreams to even acknowledge the "continue watching" button, though it never seemed to pop up.

morning had come around, the blue hue creeping in through the large windows slowly like it was hesitant to break whatever magical spell it had casted over us during the night.

when we both woke up, we had spoken. it wasn't with some grand realization or heartfelt confession—we just gave each other a bleary-eyed, half-hearted "merry christmas," that felt more like an echo than an actual sentiment. just words. meaningless, hollow words that were only said to each other out of familiarity.

christmas isn't christmas without family, especially not without that warmth and sense of belonging. my mother's gone, and billie's away from hers. it's like we were two satellites drifting in orbit, caught in each other's gravity but still so far apart. nobody should ever spend christmas away from family—even though i really had no choice, but billie did. and i didn't want her to waste it with me.

i made us avocado toast for breakfast. nothing fancy. just a bit of salt and pepper and some lemon juice that i had squeezed on top of the avocado.

we sat there in the dim morning light of my kitchen, the world outside still shrouded in an early christmas-morning type of quiet as if even the birds had decided to sleep in today.

if it weren't christmas, i would've taken her to my favorite spot for breakfast—m.henry's. it's a cozy little café just a block or two over, where the food is always hot, and the french toast literally tastes like heaven. but everything was closed, and for this singular day of the year, the entire city skyline takes a day off and just pauses, but only for today.

here we were, billie sitting at the same spot as yesterday as i stood directly across from her, the counter island between us as we both chew in silence, making all of this seem normal—like it didn't hurt to be here, alone but not really alone.

eventually our conversation drifted, as it always does, like leaves caught in a slow-moving stream. we ended up talking about her going back to the lake house, back to spend time with her family—and the now-known nathan. the name still tasted bitter on my tongue. not to be biased, but it didn't belong. it was like it was an intruder to a story that should've only been ours.

"i'll drive you back," i offered, trying to keep myself seem like it didn't really matter. but it did. it mattered more than she could ever even know.

i know that i didn't want us to drive separately. it felt too final, too much like a goodbye, even though that's exactly what it was. honestly she should even just drive herself back like the way she came, to leave my moms car back where she had left it. but i still had to get my mom's car back to the lake house somehow, and i felt like i had to make sure everything was in check before i could let go for good.