The Only Present Under The Tree

I didn’t want to leave.

I didn’t want to have to say goodbye. But I couldn’t ignore it anymore, couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t actually going to happen. This would be our last Christmas together. On January 1st, I was going to be leaving everything I knew behind, to start a new life, on the other side of the world.

I’ll admit I’d been selfish over the past couple of months, barley talking to my dad since he announced the new job in Australia. It wasn’t his fault that the company he worked for went bust. I suppose I should be grateful, many people would kill for the opportunity to experience life in a different country. But I didn’t want any of that, I just wanted Kye.

We’d grown up together, living next door from each other since we were toddlers. We’d been best friends for years, but when I was fourteen, he told me he didn’t want to be friends anymore. He wanted to be more than that.

We’d been through high school together, faced every problem thrown at us, beat down the ‘you’re young, it won’t last’ comments from almost everyone. And now we were going to have an ocean between us. I won’t be able to just go next door and see his face, smiling back at me, making me feel like everything was going to be alright.

I jumped when I heard the doorbell ring from downstairs. My pulse skittered, but not in its usual, excited way whenever I was expecting Kye to call round. I rushed down the staircase and took a last look at myself in the mirror by the front door. I looked tired. After weeks of arguing with my dad, and endless hours of crying in my bedroom, I wasn’t looking my best. I quickly wiped away a small mascara smudge before pulling the door open.

Kye bounded into the hallway without invitation. He never needed one anyway.

“Merry Christmas Eve, you,” he said cheerfully, leaning in to give me a kiss before I’d even shut the door. When we pulled apart, he brandished a brown paper bag in front of my face. “Mum baked you some cookies,” he told me. “You know, for Santa.” He gave me a wink and I couldn’t help but smile.

His mum, Sara, had done a lot for me since my mum passed away early this year. She’d always stepped in to make sure I had a motherly figure I could go to whenever I needed to talk. She was close to my mum, so it was nice to talk over our happy memories of her. Whenever I tried to talk about the happier times with Dad, he’d become distant and make excuses to leave the room.

I took the bag from Kye and smiled up at him. He looked angelic with his blonde, wavy hair falling ever-so-slightly into his eyes.

“I’ll be sure to say thanks when I come round tomorrow,” I said to him, already dreading the Christmas dinner that Sara had planned. I had a feeling it was going to be emotional.

“Are you sure you don’t want to exchange presents today?” he asked, an excited sparkle in his eyes. “We’re not that many hours away from Christmas, so it’s totally fine.”

“No,” I said sternly. “No presents until Christmas, okay?”

He sighed. “I suppose.”

He was good at pretending everything was fine. Looking at the two of us now, saving face in front of each other, no one would know that we’d be saying our farewells next week. Kye had been trying to act like nothing was happening. But it was happening, I was moving and he’d have to face it soon.

“Is your dad not home yet?” he asked, glancing around the hallway, waiting for him to appear.

“He’s still out,” I replied.

Dad was having goodbye drinks with some of his friends from our town. He wanted to say goodbye now, at Christmas, rather than just before we left. He’d encouraged me to make an effort to spend time with everyone before we go, but I think he knew I’d rather spend every possible moment that I could with Kye. I knew my dad felt guilty for making me move to another country, and I certainly felt guilty for taking it out on him, but I couldn’t hide my anger. I couldn’t mask how upset I was. Believe me, I’d tried.