Since that night in the studio, since that promise, two months have gone by.
Christmas was strange in my family, but not in the way that it usually is. There was the annual bickering over decorations and what not, the annual feeling like something—someone— was very much missing from all of it. There was the emptiness at the dinner table, and my mom's special cake, of which I left a sister-sized bite. But this year, I didn't say write a card for my father. Didn't say a word.
Because ever since that night in the studio, since that promise, I haven't spoken to him at all.
It was hard. It was hard to have him yell at me, then smile at me, then yell again. It was harder to ignore the painful tug in my chest at the severing of him. But he had taught me I needed him all these years. And that was a lesson I knew I had to unlearn.
So I kept my distance, and Christmas was weird. But it was good, because I spent the next day with the Kals. Their house was lit with green and red, and the halls were actually decked with holly. James came back home a bit later than me, after a long day of work he wasn't exempt from. When Sky pulled me into the house, embracing me with a kiss on the forehead and a whispered 'Merry Christmas', he quickly told me the decorations, the tree, the roast making the entire house smell of rosemary, were all a surprise for James. Hana directed me to hang up a couple more lights and wash a few dishes before we got a call from James, telling us he was coming home in less than five minutes. We rushed to turn off the lights and hide behind furniture, popping out at him once he opened the door.
His reaction was less than desirable: he began chocking on air at the scare we gave him, but he was laughing nonetheless. The rest of the night was filled with more laughter, with songs, and joy.
In front of the fireplace, Sky and I slow-danced as his parents did the same by our side. I kept my eyes closed and my head above his heart, and in turn his cheek remained on top of my hair and his arms were locked around the small of my back. After at least thirty minutes of it, we had to pull away, because it was time for me to go back to my house, though even as I walked out, my heart stopped at the door; and so, in a way, I stayed home.
The very same night, like almost every night before, Sky and I talked from our houses. But this time, we attempted window communication using morse code, putting his Christmas lights and my flashlight to good use. It was tedious, but I giggled through the whole endeavour. The notepad on my lap was soon full of messages from him:
status update
we should dance together more often
you are cute even if you hate it
your hair smells really good
i miss your voice
generally you smell really good
And through his window, I saw him smile when he deciphered my words:
status update is i feel really happy
i agree more dancing with you is a must
i am not cute and i do not hate it because i am not
i have zero idea what to say to that so just know that i am blushing right now
we can go to the studio again tomorrow since i also miss your dancing
stoooooooooooooooooooooopstopitstooooooooooop
When my mom asked me what I had been laughing about all night, I told her exactly the truth. And to my surprise, she didn't say anything. She only gave a curt nod, and attempted to steer the conversation to something that didn't interest me at all, at which point, I simply stopped listening.
Because I had somewhere to go. I had a friend to visit. I had pillows to throw at her and to receive in the face myself. I had warm brownies to devour and secrets to tell.
We laughed all day and night in her room, which had been stripped bare except for a mattress, in preparation for redecoration: she was finally getting a room that felt like her. She was also throwing away a lot of 'trappings of her former life', as I dubbed them: things like clothes that didn't feel like her and makeup she never really liked. We made fun of teachers, talked about the upcoming YBC, made plans for the future that would always end with us being friends forever.
YOU ARE READING
Asunder
Teen Fiction"Promise me. Promise me you'll never beg someone to stay when they're already gone." Tangled up a million knots, Kingsley has lost faith in happiness. Her heavy heart struggles to continue to beat, and she is slowing down. It seems to her that the w...
