"We wish you a Merry Christmas; we wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!" She spun around with sparkling lights, hanging them from one end of the room to the next.
"Who told you that you could decorate my room?" I sat on my bed with a warm cup of hot chocolate in my palms. In between sips, I muttered, "I don't know who in the right mind gave you the permission to do this."
She had gotten boxes of snowflakes and hung them on the walls. She even managed to put up a small real tree in my cramped bedroom. The worst thing of them all? The most horrifying?
She recently managed to buy a toy Santa that twerks. I didn't even think someone would ruin my innocent childhood image of a man breaking and entering my house to place suspicious presents underneath a tree but she did. She ruined that image by getting a twerking Santa Claus.
"I thought it was cute." She smiled cheekily.
"Are you going to celebrate Christmas with your parents?" I asked curiously only to see the bright sparkling smile on her face drop off in an instant. "What's wrong? Did I say something?"
"No, it's just, um. I won't be spending it with them..."
"Why not? Isn't Christmas about family time?"
"Yeah, if you had a family. We always end up arguing on holidays and him being wasted, stumbling from one end of the table to the next. And her muttering curses underneath her breath...I just don't want that anymore..."
"Don't blame you. You can spend it with me."
"Really?" She jumped up onto the bed and hugged me. "Are you serious? You're not joking, right? Please tell me you're not joking."
"Why would I be joking? You're my best friend, practically family. You're one of the best people on this entire planet and it makes me sad to see you all alone."
"Thank you," she started to cry, "You're the best."
"Really?" I smiled.
"Really."
"If I'm the best, then I, the best person in the world, beg you to put that Santa Claus away."
"Well, you're not thaaat great."
"Seriously, you're making me question our entire friendship."
YOU ARE READING
therapy
Short Story"they told us that we needed therapy, as if medication and tainted words could fix broken toys."
