Wings

November 28, 2013

Over the past couple of weeks, the bond between Chris and I has grown inexplicably stronger. We've spent almost every day together, and I can honestly say we have a lot of fun. I haven't told him that I love him since the first time, but he understands. He knows that no matter how much I adore him, I'll always love Adam and miss him with each aching bone in my body.

For Chris' sake, I've tried my best not to destroy myself as much as possible. I've been drinking less and less, and have gradually minimized the number of times I've cut. Chris' happiness is infectious, and I feel as though a piece of me that I lost this summer has slowly come back.

Today is Thanksgiving, and I had an open invitation to attend dinner at the Dermott house. Chris had an older brother, Stephen, who was back from Yale, and a younger sister, Sarah, who was finishing kindergarten. While I had spent much time around his family as a child, I was becoming increasingly more nervous.

I rang the doorbell, lightly bouncing up and down in the cold November air. The tip of my nose had turned pink in the frost, and I could see my breath curling out of my lips. Chris finally opened the door, a big grin on his face.

"Hey gorgeous!" he beamed, giving me a small kiss on the cheek. I stood on my tip toes, meeting his lips, and smiled. Chris took my hand, intertwining my long fingers in his. His blue collared shirt matches his irises, and his hair was combed over in a golden swoop.

He led me into the kitchen, were his mother and sister were busy working on the turkey. Sarah was standing on a wooden stool, craning her neck to peer into the bowl of stuffing. His mother had an apron over her dress, her blonde hair in a bob meeting her chin. A string of pearls adorned her neck, and she was bent over the kitchen counter, her hands mixing the potatoes and herbs.

"Ahem," Chris said loudly, clearing his throat. His mother and sister turned to me, staring at Chris and I in the doorway. "Mom, Sarah, you remember Sydney."

Sarah's face lit up, and she jumped off the stool. "Sydney!" she cried, jumping into my arms and throwing her small hands around my neck. I laughed, hugging Chris' baby sister.

"Hi pretty girl," I smiled, crouching down to her height. I moved her blonde hair, always in ringlets, behind her shoulders, and tweaked her nose, something I had always done. She giggled, then ran back to her stool, singing a made-up song in her angelic voice.

I smiled, rising from my crouched position. I smoothed the front of my dress, the yellow one I had worn in Angelica, and looked at Chris. This had been Adam's dress, I thought sadly. But it was time to make new memories with it. "Hi Mrs. Dermott," I said happily, smiling at Chris' mother.

Something flashed in her gray eyes, and she stared at me with indifference. "Hello Sydney," she said coolly. My smile faltered, and Chris tugged on my hand, pulling me through the house. I was filled with memories of growing up in the Dermott household, our feet echoing on the hardwood floors, chasing Chris as a child.

On our ascent up the stairs, we were met by Andrew, the family patriarch. You only had to see Chris and his father next to each other to know that they are related. Their piercing blue eyes sparkled in the light, and their strong jaws framed their handsome faces.

"Sydney," Andrew smiled, folding me into his arms. I smiled over his shoulder, feeling the familiar warmth the Dermotts emitted. He pulled away, smiling sadly. "I'm so sorry about Adam," he said.

"It's okay," I murmured, giving him a small smile.

"We're happy that you're here, kid." Andrew smiled again, then continued down the stairs.

Chris and I flopped onto his bed, laughing for no reason. Chris tucked a strand of inky black hair behind my ear, wrapping his arms around me. I burrowed my head into his warm chest, smelling the mixture of cologne and baking from the kitchen on his skin. We laid in comfortable silence as Chris stroked my hair absent-mindedly.