Christmas and Eve

my roommate hates christmas, but she doesn't hate me

christmas day

At three o'clock in the morning, the door on floor three that had been blasting Christmas music all week cracked open. Marilyn Goldstein peeked her head inside, only the light from the hallway illuminating her roommate, who had unluckily been left with the bed that was visible by the door. The roommate's face was visible, as her hair was pushed just far enough back to allow Marilyn to see that Eve was smiling in her sleep.

The light from the hallway would not be enough to reveal that Eve was smiling because she spent the afternoon walking through the snowy campus hand-in-hand with Liz Casta, or that the broken cactus pot had been replaced and now had a Jewish star painted on it.

But Marilyn didn't know that. Slowly the blonde pulled her suitcase inside, shutting the door gently behind her. The light that illuminated Eve disappeared, and Marilyn opened her suitcase at the foot of her own bed. She pulled out her clothes and shoved them back into her little drawers, and the thud of a single shoe missing the drawer awoke the sleeping roommate, who did not stir enough to be noticed.

Slowly, Eve sat up in bed, wearing the red button down pajama shirt that she had told Marilyn was her "most festive" earlier that week. She sat and watched as Marmie unpacked, shoved the suitcase under her bed, and set a small box on her pillow. Instead of putting on her own pajamas, Marmie flopped onto the bed in exhausten.

"You came back early," Eve said, much to the fright of exhaustion. The blonde practically fell from her bed with a yelp.

"Eve! I thought you were asleep," she whispered, scrambling back onto her bed.

"I woke up. Why are you back so early?" Eve cocked her head to the side curiously.

"I remembered how much I hated my family," Marmie explained whilst cracking a pitiful smile. "And I remembered that someone told me Christmas was supposed to be full of good feeling and happiness and joy. And that you were supposed to spend it with people you loved." Marmie smiled again, warmer now.

"I think a movie told you that," Eve pointed out skeptically.

"Maybe. But only one person could make me sit through an entire Christmas movie without wanting to kill myself in at least twelve festive ways," Marmie replied. Eve laughed and scooted over on her bed for her roommate to join her.

"Are we good, then?" she asked.

"Of course. Everyone fights, I should't have walked out on you. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry for, well, everything this week," Eve responded. "Except the fairy lights." They both laughed.

"That's alright. I actually like the fairylights." There was silence for a moment, awkward and thick in the air.

"I kissed Liz," Eve blurted. "I'm sorry, I know you don't really like her, but-" Marmie reached out and squeezed Eve's hand.

"I'm happy for you. She's a nice Jewish girl," she said. "You don't have to apologize for that. I'm not in charge of your love life. As much as I act like your mother, I'm really not." Eve laughed again, and enveloped Marmie in a hug.

"I missed you," she said, burying her face in Marmie's shoulder.

"I missed you too." The blonde pulled away suddenly, scrambling from the bed. "I almost forgot!" She grabbed the box that was sitting on her pillow, and held it out to Eve.

"What's this?" asked Eve.

"A Christmas present!" Marmie looked incredibly pleased with herself.

"But we don't celebrate Christmas."

Marmie waved off the comment. "Just open it!" Eve carefully opened the box, making certain she wouldn't damage the box or the Hanukkah wrapping paper. Inside, a Christmas ornament of a Star of David. How unbeliably ironic. As Eve held it to the light, Marmie leaned back on her hands, very satisfied. "I thought it was very-"

"Accurate," Eve ended the sentence for her. Marmie nodded.

"Very you."

Eve carefully set the ornament aside and tackled Marmie in another hug. "Do you like it?" Marmie asked.

"I love it! And I know just where to put it." Eve leaned over the bed and pulled out the newly potted Christmas cactus, with new fairy lights, and several Jewish stars designed all across the clean, white exterior of the pot. She hung the little star off one of the cactus branches, and set the cactus on her nighttable.

"It looks perfect," Marmie said happily, wrapping one arm around her roommate.

"So we can keep the Christmas cactus?" Eve asked, resting her head against Marmie.

"It looks more like a Hanukkah cactus to me, but yes. Of course, Eve," she replied. She looked down at her roommate's illuminated face, which was beaming so brightly that even without light it could have lit up the entire room.

"I don't think I'd ever wanna spend Christmas with anyone except you, Marmie," she said.

"Merry Christmas, Eve," replied Marmie, glancing outside as the snow began to fall once again.

"Happy Hanukkah, Marmie."