Reviving December

Tequila

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December

I wanted to hide in my room but instead I was forcing myself into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, as per my mother's orders, and facing the real world. My mind was still foggy, the haze of sleep lingering -- I desperately yearned for the safety of blank dreams and the warmth of my bed. Grumbling lightly, I traipsed down the stairs to the Dixon gathering room, the kitchen, and waited for further instruction from my too gleeful mother. Rose Dixon was a social butterfly, one that lived for parties, especially ones held by her closest friend, Beverly Rains.

"Oh good, you're up! Bev just called and asked if we would come help set up -- August and Texas are already over there decorating the goodies. And, honey I--" The over exuberant Rose stopped, her cheeks losing their blushing hue as she took in my appearance.I could see the wheels working in her head, the urge to tell me to go change crawling just under her skin, but I saw the war as well. She didn't want to berate her child for something that she couldn't change, instead my mother simply let out a wobbly hiccup and let her sentence drop. I was grateful that she wasn't pushing me, didn't think I could handle it today. After a few moments she instructed me to grab a box filled with mason jars and take them to the truck. I could feel her watching me, eyes burning into my back, and with the thought that all she saw was the shell, my heart ached. 

* * *

I just wanted to go home.

I watched as peopled milled around the Rains' back yard, talking, laughing and drinking -- enjoying the annual end of summer bash that Beverly Rains insisted on having. It was a party that I had attended all of her life, and had enjoyed more times that I could even count, but this time it was different. I refused to speak to anyone and kept my back angled in a corner, the hoody covering my body helped me curl in on myself as I surveyed the bodies flooding the lush green yard. I knew most of the people, had gone to school with them or someone kin to them, and a deep part of me felt the urge to go talk to someone. Deep down, I missed being social, missed having friends. Instead of following the urge deep within, I stayed in my little corner, watching, not letting anything bother me -- that is until Cade Rains stepped into the yard.

My breath caught. He was just as handsome as he'd been when I left him here six years ago, but he'd filled out. He was a boy then -- a fine boy, but one nonetheless. Now he was a man. His jaw was thick and covered in a light scatter of dark facial hair, deliberately groomed that way, I assumed. His face was tan, along with the exposed skin of his forearms. His chest was encased in a stark white t-shirt, a wonderful contrast against the dark pressed wranglers encasing his legs. His feet were adorned with a standard pair of boots, but I suspected he still wore a pair of Twisted X boots. Lastly, I glanced up at his eyes and my breath caught as I met his vibrant blue eyes for the first time in years. Parts of me that I had previously thought dead came alive at the sight. Yes, Cade Rains was indeed just as handsome as I remembered. And they were some fond memories. Well, some of them. A flash of pain hit me square in the chest as I remembered the day I left Red Mire, and the look on his face when I kissed him one last time. I desired nothing more than to go up to him and say something -- anything-- but I wasn't sure he'd want to speak to me. After all, the few times i had  nutted up and tried to contact him, I'd heard nothing from him.

I decided I would just settle for watching from afar.

Cade

I couldn't believe my eyes, in fact, I blinked furiously a few times in order to make sure she wasn't a hallucination. There she was, huddled in a corner by herself, head down and curled into a large black hoodie. That struck me as odd for two different reasons; one, it was 1 o'clock in the afternoon and nearly 98 outside. I was sweating wearing the light cotton shirt and jeans so she had to be dying in her clothes. And, two, she wasn't speaking to anyone. That wasn't like the December I knew. Or anyone knew. She was a butterfly, she used to flit from social group to social group with ease. What worried me the most was the way she seemed to not really be December at all. Sure, it looked like her, but the light was gone. My hand tightened on the bottle in my hand as I stared over at her, it didn't even seem to matter that I actually was staring. She was here, she was in reach and I wanted so badly to hold her, but how do you touch a ghost?

December

"I saw Cade today," Mama said, her voice barely a whisper, "oh, baby, he looks like he hasn't slept in days. Have you talked to him at all?" My hand tightened on the phone, my fingers tingling with the contact. Concern for Cade knotted up my gut. In the six weeks since I had left Red Mire this was the first time that Mama had mentioned his name. I now realized why she hadn't said anything and I hadn't asked; hearing his name physically hurt. I had known that leaving my home and my family behind would be hard though I kept telling myself that this is what I had wanted, a life of  freedom and adventure, of free learning beyond my little town. I hadn't considered how much it would hurt to walk away from Cade. How despite the fact that I missed my siblings and parents, the separation that hurt the most was the one from him. From what I felt was my other half, my partner in crime. I had the life I had so wanted, didn't I? No more Red Mire. I woke up each morning in a new room, new town, longing for a home I had willingly walked away from. And for the people who made home.

"Mama," The word was a wisp of air, barely audible, "I don't want to talk about Cade." It made my chest ache furiously. I could feel the measly bowl of oatmeal churning dangerously in my stomach and despite the slow, deep breaths I was taking I was sure I could  fight the rise of bile.

"December." Her tone was tight now, one that would've gutted me had I not already felt at my lowest.

"I can't, Mama."  Couldn't talk about him, think about him, want him. Because if I did, I would walk away from what I was trying to do for myself and never look back. I knew it was worth it. He was always going to be. But I needed to find myself, to finish school and explore the world like I would never be able to in Red Mire. I heard the catch in her breath through the phone, just as heavy as it would've been in person, but somehow this sounded more final. She was accepting but not understanding. And of course she had one thing to say, one that sent me spiraling farther into the dark abyss of my regret that would take me months to crawl out of.

"Why did you walk away like he meant nothing if you love him so much?"