ix. christmas

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ix. christmas - 12/25

I made a Christmas playlist, and it only had two songs: White Christmas and Blue Christmas. White because, well, it’s snowing outside, and blue because it was going to be a Christmas without you. A white and blue Christmas, and it’s funny, really, because those colors actually belong to Hanukkah.

On this white and blue Christmas, Valentina and I slept in and then hung around for a few hours watching holiday movies, but by late afternoon she was off to another party. This one, she said, was more civilized: the guy she’s currently dating invited her to his house to meet his family. She dressed in vivid red and green with that tutu over her jeans and was so excited about it all that it made me smile.

She left a few minutes after four, and I was alone.

My mom called soon after that to wish me Merry Christmas, and she had me talk to my relatives (all thirty-three of them, and that’s just her side of the family) and asked what I was going to be doing for the evening. I thought it was strange that she didn’t seem particularly bothered when I said I wasn’t planning to do anything at all. She didn’t say anything about you, and I didn’t speak to you on the phone, though I was fairly certain that you were spending Christmas with my family.

You never called.

So I tried calling you a few times but the phone didn’t even ring, and instead went straight to voicemail. I was confused and worried and a little bit hurt, because even though we weren’t together anymore, you’re still my best friend and I thought that counted for something.

But I made myself forget about it and curled up in bed with a mug of hot cocoa and “It’s a Wonderful Life” on my laptop. Valentina called at around seven with the sounds of Christmas music around her and asked if I was doing anything, and when I said I wasn’t and asked why she was wondering she just said, “Oh, no reason,” and hung up the phone.

I thought about calling my parents again after that, since it seemed that even Jimmy Stewart couldn’t put me in a Christmas mood, but then I realized that hearing my family all together on the other line would just make me feel worse. And even though I didn’t mean to, I started crying, which made me feel beyond stupid because it’s Christmas and I should have been laughing. But I couldn’t stop, no matter how times I sniffed and swiped at my eyes, no matter how many tissues I pressed against my face, so you can imagine that when the buzzer to the dorm room sounded I was a bit of a mess.

I wasn’t going to answer at first, but the buzzing was persistent. Any five-second efforts to look presentable proved to be fruitless, so I just gave my cheeks a final wipe and shuffled to the door.

“One second,” I said hoarsely, slowly unlatching the lock.

I wasn’t really looking as I opened the door; I tugged at my sleeves instead, trying to keep my eyes pointing downward in hopes of masking my appearance from whoever was on the other side. But as the door swung open, there was the sound of a throat being cleared, and then my name in a familiar tone.

“Hey, Ellery.”

I looked up quickly, immediately, and there you were. You, standing on the threshold of my dorm room in a Christmas sweater with snow and your hair and a reindeer-printed bag in your arms, grinning at me as if you hadn’t just given me the biggest shock of my life.

I couldn’t say a word. I stood there, frozen, staring at you with my mouth open as you said something about driving all the way here, all the way here, but forgetting your phone charger at home and that’s why you didn’t call, sorry about that, but you were here now and oh God you were so happy to see me except—

“Elle, were you crying?” you demanded. “What’s wrong?” And there was concern in your voice and your hands were on my shoulder and your blue eyes widened in worry and all of a sudden I was crying again, or maybe laughing, crying and laughing and slapping you across the arm.

“You are so stupid,” I hissed. “I don’t think you understand, Sam, I literally hate you so much, you stupid, sneaky, stupid piece of—”

I had plenty more to say, but in proper interruptive fashion, you cut me off with one swift movement that pressed your lips to mine.

 

Explanations came later, after our eyes were dry (you cried too, don’t even try to deny it) and I’d brushed the snow out of your hair. You had driven here, all the way from Portland to NYC, in that junky old car that you had bought after graduation. Everyone was in on it: your aunt and uncle, my family, even Valentina. You’d gotten a scholarship, you said, courtesy of Krystal’s connections, to a culinary academy in the city. Second semester didn’t start until mid-January, but you’d come early as a surprise. And boy, was it ever a surprise.

We exchanged Christmas presents, because thankfully I’d been late in sending mine. I got you a scarf. I got practically everyone a scarf. You’d baked me some cookies, but the drive over was long and somewhere along the way they had all mysteriously disappeared. So instead you’d stopped at the grocery store and gotten all the ingredients—we can make them together, you said.

And, after digging through that bag for a few moments more, you came up with a pair of thick woolen mittens.

“I picked these up,” you told me, “because I remembered that one time when you got your old ones caught in the door of my car and I figured you never would have gotten around to buying new ones.”

I laughed for the first time all day and said, “You must have read my mind.”

 


It’s still sinking in, to be honest: the fact that after six months of nothing more than phone calls and text messages, you’re here, real as ever, your arm draped around my shoulder and your chin resting on top of my head. For all I know, you might be reading every word I’m scribbling into this journal; in fact, you probably are. Once upon a time, last December, I would have slammed it shut and hid my words away, but things are different now. It’s Christmas and you’re here beside me, really here, not just on the phone or in a letter or a photograph—you’re here, and you’re here to stay.

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YOU'RE ALL WELCOME. dfsdlkfjsd i'm having a crisis in every chapter trying to decide who to dedicate to, but this one is dedicated to the lovely sunset because she's never been anything but kind and she's just a wonderful person.

p.s. special thanks to valarie (@coexistence) for finding the perfect gif on the side 

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