Chris Evans: The Collection (Imagines and Short Stories)

A Chris-mas Story 2

Part 2: Christmas Eve Feels

One last stop before a joyous first Christmas Day where twenty Evans-Pattersons will gather in celebration to a night off the duty of parenthood where Guinevere and Christoper dance the night away and drink hot cider for their cares in reminiscence of Christmases jolly and sad come to pass. . .

December 24, 2018 10:30 PM 

After putting Ava to sleep following two tumultuous hours of getting her to stop crying, the pair celebrate Christmas Eve by themselves through a warm, crackling fire in a wood stove, making a pot of apple cider from scratch bubbling over the burner, and dancing barefoot in the living room to Christmas covers by James Taylor. Guin's head rests on her husband's chest covered by a gray long-sleeved shirt. Her eyes are closed in serenity-- trusting each step Chris will undertake. As the renditions have a slight jazz feel to them, Chris spins Guin round and round and gently dips her to and fro every so often. To annoy his wife, Chris even vocalizes once in a while. When she is out of his atmosphere briefly to be spun she has a finger ready to hold to his lips in an attempt to shut him up. The antics leave them both chuckling and having a good time. When Winter Wonderland concludes, there's a vibration in Chris's pocket indicating that the cider is ready for straining and serving.

"I'll be right back," Chris kisses Guin's hand as they part. "I have to check on the cider."

She sighs, "Actually that's perfect timing as I'm too tired to keep dancing. God! I hate being old. Plus I have to get back to researching."

Across the room, Chris says, "Although, I applaud you Guinny for trying to work while you're being a mom and recovering, is it too much for right now? I'm not trying to control you, I just don't want you to overwork yourself."

"I appreciate your concern, Love, but," Guin is back on the couch with her laptop on her knees. "I'm not just on sabbatical because of maternity leave, I have promised at least a proposal if not the beginning of a book. Plus, Chris I told myself after I got my Ph.D. if I ever got married and had children, I swore that I would be able to have it all. The marriage, the kid, and the job. No compromises. I would be the ideal twenty-first-century woman. I know that's a lot of pressure, but I can try to aspire to that."

"True. Plus I know you can do it. I just don't want you to become too overwhelmed as Ava was born only two weeks ago and sleep has been scarce. I don't want you to get sick or something because there's a lot on your plate. I'm not saying you're weak or incapable of it all, but birth, breastfeeding, and all that stuff can take its toll."

"Take a breath," she tells him.

"Right," he exhales. "Also I'm speaking as if I've experienced what all you're doing. Sorry," Chris does another mix of the pot for good measure and using the oven mitts, carries it over to the sink to separate the liquid from the solid into a giant glass bowl. Once it has all been strained, he puts the mash of apple, cinnamon, and orange into the compost bin on the windowsill. While the product of a steaming bowl of amber liquid is transferred to the counter. Chris follows the recipe in adding a half a cup of turbinado sugar and does one last taste with his trusty wooden spoon. Although it is to his liking of a perfect triple union between the sweet, sour, and spice, for a second opinion, he consults the taste buds of his wife.

"No. I understand what you mean. I can handle it all, Chris. I would tell you if I couldn't. Plus the research keeps me sane when I'm not catering to Ava's needs. You realize for me being a workaholic should be classified more as a medical condition rather than a state of mind," Guin grins and gives a thumbs-up signal, replying, "That's perfect! Hits the spot."