[Completed] Moments Around the Mistletoe

Eleven

"Anna called me yesterday."

Caesar drops two chocolate bombs on the mugs and stirs them while listening to what I've got to say. It is not sad, it's just too sudden and now I'm worried about her, about Anna, the girl to said goodbye to the orphanage for some boy she doesn't want to see anymore. Yesterday she asked what are we going to do on Christmas and I said to spend time with the orphans in the orphanage and have dinner here at home but I forgot to mention that she is also welcomed to join us as she is still part of the family but I think she knows that already, I told her the last time that she wants to go away.

"What did you tell her? What did she tell you?" He said while putting a mug in front of me. I drink hot chocolate before speaking. "Well, she just asks where are we going to spend Christmas, I said in the orphanage. You know it was so sudden, I don't—I don't know why she called me so suddenly. I feel like there's something but I don't know what or why."

I drink the hot chocolate again and tuck my hair behind my ears. I have a feeling but I don't know what, I can't describe the feeling but I can't feel that there's something.

"Sarah called you so suddenly," said Caesar drinking hot chocolate.

"What?"

"I said Sarah called you so suddenly. She called you a day ago, wasn't that weird?" You are such an idiot. Sarah always calls me more than she calls you because we are close friends. We became even close for badmouthing you and believe me she is better than me.

"No, it's not that," I said. "I mean, I don't even know where did she get my number. My family and my co-workers are the ones who knew my number."

"Unless if she's there in the orphanage then she would know your number," Caesar said.

That's right, what if she finally came back. What if she finally got into her senses. I laugh realizing what my brother just said. God, why didn't I think about that but there is a lot of ways that she can get my number. It would be impossible that she will go and ask my number in the company. No employees there would give my number unintended and that is the truth so that would be impossible plus it's the holidays.

"You're a genius, brother," I said smiling. "That is right but you know there is a lot of ways that she can get my number but it's impossible."

"Impossible, what...?"

"Impossible that she will get my number from the employees in the company," I said.

"Yeah, that is right but if my theory proves that she is back in the orphanage we will see that once we go there for Christmas," Caesar and I sip hot chocolate from our mugs. "I wish so, and I hope so," I said.

***

This afternoon was supposed to me my peaceful afternoon painting something and listening to music but we are here in Gore Mountain to ski. Grandpa Fuller said it's his favourite sport and it's also my favourite sport but I really want to go to sleep or paint, do some calligraphy of bible verses or something that is peaceful but if this is what my Grandpa Fuller wants then we should stick to it. He's the boss here since he's the eldest, no one can say no to Grandpa and when I say no one, I mean no one, even my parents.

I make the Sign of the Cross for protection and position myself in the edge of the mountain. I push the ski poles behind and as I went off skiing, I feel the coldness of the air under my skin even though if I am wearing thick clothing. I smile feeling the cold air and seeing the white and blue background, Grandpa is right when he said that we have to go skiing. My Grandpa Fuller is obsessed with skiing, no wonder why my father also loves skiing and I love skiing but I'm not obsessed with it. I'm more of like an office girl than a sporty gal.

"Ey, slowpokes! Come on down already! I'm waiting!" I shout from the lower part of the mountain. I feel like I don't wanna go anymore. I have been doing this for the house going back and forth the mountain town is exhausting. My family are still on the mountain going to slide down.

I went to the lobby and remove all my skiing gear. Geez, that is really cold, I don't wanna wait for them since mt wanna wait for them since my tummy is already telling me that I will eat something. I opened my bag and ate the corndogs I prepared before coming here at Gore Mountain. As I munch on my corndogs, I can see dad and Grandpa Fuller coming this way.

"Someone who is skiing for hours is now hungry," My father teased and I rolled my eyes.

Who wouldn't be hungry when you keep on skiing back and forth, back and forth. Dad, you are ridiculous! I drink my iced tea and proceed on eating my corndogs.

"What are you doing here? Tired of skiing back and forth?" dad and Grandpa sit beside me, drinking their water. "Your brother, Grandpa Gordon, Grandmother and Mother are still on the mountain, I think their scared going down on the mountain as if it's their first time skiing on Gore Mountain," Dad said.

Facts actually. Those guys are always the only ones who are always left behind when skiing. It's as if the mountain will do any harm to them. Me, Grandpa and Dad are born for the snow that's why we love skiing. We call ourselves The Three Musketeers in skiing.

"Where do we go to eat, dad. I'm starving." Daddy said to Grandpa

Well, that's a coincidence because I am also starving. We have the same stomachs dad. No wonder why people call us like father, like daughter. Or was is the other way around? Like daughter, like father. Whatever that is, it has the same meaning me and my father are the same.

"Maybe we'll go to KFC, I love going there when I was young. Your grandparents and your great-grandparents, Catherine, always took me there when I was young." Grandpa said.

"Oh, I also love KFC!" I said.

"Of course you do you little Squidward, you are a De Novo. You must love KFC." Dad laughs his father's comment and I frowned.

"Seriously, Grandpa. Does it really mean that I am a De Novo I love KCF, a lot of people love KCF?" I said with a feigned laugh.

"You know what I mean." He said.

I definitely know what you mean. It means that we are alike, we are the same. The three Musketeers, in short.