Unconditional [short story]

no, this is our happy end

"a love story told over the span of six Christmases"

<i>

2011

"So, what did you wish for this Christmas?"

She scowls, regarding him with a look that can only be described as quizzical and contemptuous. 

"Things," she replies vaguely, turning away from him to shove her books viciously into her bag. "It's none of your business anyway."

"Of course," he smiles, effervescent and lively despite the slight disappointment in his eyes. "Are you going anywhere with your family?

At that, she pauses, an imperceptible freezing of movement that alerts him to the fact that he's said something wrong. 

"No, I'm not," she says eventually, her tone steel-edged. "Goodbye."

He calls out 'Merry Christmas', but is cut off by the door slamming shut. 

<ii>

2015

"Hey, this is for you."

She looks up, a mixture of surprise and instinctive irritation flitting across her face. He grins, looking both nervous and anticipatory. 

"You mentioned once that you wanted books for Christmas, so I got you this." He places a bundle gently onto the table, careful not to tip over her cup of coffee. "It's To Kill A Mockingbird and Go Set A Watchman. I'm not well-versed in what's good and what's not, but I thought you might like it."

She cocks her head, looking contemplatively at the present with its perfect red bow. 

"Thanks," she says blandly. "I didn't get anything for you."

He shrugs, smiling at her again. He doesn't expect her to get him anything, not only because they're in the first few stages of their friendship but also because of her family situation.

(It would be unwise to mention the Christmas wishlist he had picked up and never returned to her. The one with a single crossed-out word 'books', and 'stop being so selfish, you need to take care of mum' scrawled angrily below.)

"Merry Christmas," he says cheerily. She gives the barest of nods, but doesn't say anything.  

<iii>

2017

"Sorry I'm late."

She doesn't reply, choosing instead to stare at the words on the page. She's read To Kill A Mockingbird about a thousand times, but there's something special about reading it on Christmas. She never tells him this, though. 

She hears a sigh, an almost impatient exhalation of breath. That clues her in that something's wrong, because he's always been happy and jovial even when he's literally bleeding out on the floor from a nasty fall.

"There's no rule specifying when you can come." She says instead. It's almost a tradition for them now, something she looks forward to whenever yet another dreary day of festivities rolls by. He'll come over, they'll watch cheesy festive movies, and they'll fall asleep. It's a routine that she's accustomed herself to, especially after her mother's passing the previous year. 

His footfalls on the ground as he walks towards her are unusually leaden, and when she chances a glance, she sees that weariness has taken hold of his expression.