Precious Things || Jensoo

Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

If I thought I could get away with it, I would have left my cheek unwashed for the whole of Christmas break. Two weeks: that's how long I have to spend away from Jennie. I have never been so eager for Christmas to be over in my life.

Christmas passes in a boring, far-too-lengthy period of nothing. It's just my grandfather and I. We do church, as always, and then we have a lunch, with just the two of us. Sometimes in the past we've had a random oldie from the church visiting with us, and usually Jack, but not this year.

The turkey is okay, I guess; I'm more of a fan of chicken. Christmas dinner is nice. We don't do much in the way of decorations, just a discrete wreath on the door and a small porcelain nativity scene on the mantelpiece. My grandfather is of the opinion that Christmas is far too commercial and we should revert to a purely religious holiday.

I suppose I should feel lucky that I get presents at all.

Or, a present.

Nothing too commercial.

My grandfather likes his handkerchiefs. I get a kiss on the cheek as thanks. That's about the most affection that's ever passed between us. I make sure it's the other cheek from the 'Jennie' cheek.

Why is everyone kissing me on the cheek all of a sudden?

I get the complete works of Charles Dickens. I avoid a groan and kiss my grandfather back on the cheek. The only thing worse than receiving it is the knowledge that I'm going to have to read it. If I don't, my Grandfather will be hurt, insulted and angry.

I hate Charles Dickens.

At least it's not Thomas Hardy. Of course it wouldn't be; I got that last year.

And all I can think about – all of Christmas Day – is her.

And of course, she surprises me. She always does.

She turns up at my house on the day after Christmas. That's right, my house.

I'm sitting upstairs doing homework after having done a gruelling three-hour violin practice. My grandfather feels that I've been neglecting it and this was his day to pick up on that.

Of course, being our Junior year, there are tons of assignments due and the pressure is on for college applications. Then, of course, there's SAT prep. My PSAT's were okay; at least, the counsellors at school were happy. My grandfather said they showed I had work to do. I think he expects me to get a clear 1600. Of course, he is moderately delusional; hence, me being stuck upstairs over Christmas, studying.

I hear the doorbell go, and it does make me pick my head up and frown in confusion. It's rare that someone should come to our door. My grandfather answers it, of course.

Two minutes later, I hear his deep voice calling upstairs, my name.

I make my way down the stairs and stop at the bottom. There's my grandfather, holding the door open, and there's Jennie, looking nervous as all-get-out. I try not to squeal with delight or ask her what the fuck she's doing here.

"Miss Kim is here to see you." My grandfather always was the king of obvious.

"Hey... hello Jennie," I correct myself. Grandfather doesn't like it when we butcher the English language with words such as 'hey' and 'yeah'.

"You may visit with her for five minutes," he says. "Then if you might continue your homework?"

"Of course, sir," I reply.

"Thank you, sir," Jennie adds.

I stifle a grin. He gives her an indulgent smile and goes back to reading his paper and listening to Bach.