Cell Phone || Marco Reus

Chapter 3: On Christmas Eve

“Bea,” her mum says in a reprimanding tone. “Stop teasing her.”

Sara-Maria doesn’t feel offended; she knows that Bea is just joking, although she always picks on Sara-Maria’s lack of interest in fashion. Her choice in clothes is normally the most comfortable ones, not the prettiest ones.

“Who is this Marco?” Alissa asks, looking down at the message. “A guy you’re seeing?”

“…No, he’s the guy who got me a new phone.”

“How nice of him to write you a message like this. He fancies you, I bet,” Alissa says.

“No way.” Sara-Maria laughs. “He is—“

Just before she tells them that he is Marco Reus the footballer, Daria cries because Elsa has ripped her wrapping paper. People then busy consoling her, for Daria can cry for hours. Sara-Maria sighs softly. She’ll tell them later then, she thinks as she tries to make Daria stop crying by telling her she’ll read her a Christmas story.

As the night goes, she doesn’t have the chance. After the twins go to bed the adults move back to the dining room for some wine, and before she knows it’s over midnight when they’re done cleaning up the table. Oh well, then she’ll tell them some other time, Sara-Maria thinks as she retreats to her old bedroom.

When she’s about to take off her glasses it occurs to her that she hasn’t replied to Marco’s text. My goodness. She quickly takes her phone out. Before she writes, something crosses her mind. Now she has his number; she can call him… But, what if he’s gone to bed? Well, there’s only one way to find out. She types: Hi, Marco. Merry Christmas to you, too. Are you still awake?

She puts her phone on the nightstand and reaches for her white nightdress. Just after she puts it on, her phone vibrates. Marco has replied with: Yes, I am :)

Right, now’s the chance. She takes a deep breath before sitting on her bed, pressing the call button. It only takes two rings before he answers the call, “Hey.”

Sara-Maria blames the wine for her racing heartbeat. “Hello. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas. It’s good to hear you again,” he says softly.

“…Good to hear you, too.” His voice sounds so good on the phone. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No, not at all. We’re just waiting for some late night dessert. How are you? Did you really get a gift card?” He chuckles.

She laughs. “I got four. What did you get?”

There’s a female voice on the background, but Sara-Maria can’t catch what she said. “Sorry about that,” Marco says. “It’s just my sister Yvonne telling me the dessert will be ready in five minutes. I got a lot of kitchen utensils this year. It seemed that my family was conspiring behind my back to make me cook more.”

Sara-Maria lets out a chuckle. “How thoughtful of them. Anyway, perhaps you should go. Don’t let me hold you up.”

“It’s okay. I can talk a bit longer, Sara-Maria,” he tells her, his tone very soft, making Sara-Maria’s heart pound harder on her chest—and she feels a fluttery feeling that has begun to be familiar.

“Okay. Well… I’ve got the coffee machine,” she says.

“Cool. Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I do. But, Marco… I can’t accept it.”

“Why not?” She can imagine him frown on the other side. “Isn’t it what you want?”

“Yes, but…” How can she explain it to him? “You really shouldn’t get me anything. You’ve been really nice to me, but the coffee machine… I can’t accept it… I’m sorry.”

“I don’t see why not. Aren’t friends allowed to give presents to each other?”

She goes silent for a second. “Do you reckon that we’re… friends?” They just know each other for two weeks.

“Are we not?” She hears him say. “Don’t you see me as a friend, Sara-Maria?” he asks softly.

She has absolutely no idea what to say. “I think I do,” she finally speaks. It’s the truth. Although she doesn’t think that a friend is supposed to make her heart go crazy—like what he’s always doing, effortlessly.

“Then I don’t want to hear any more complain about the coffee machine,” he says. She hears another voice behind him once again. “It’s Yvonne again,” he says, sounding a bit reluctant and apologetic.

“Go. Have a good time with your family.”

“Thanks. Is your family still up?”

“No. They’ve gone to bed. I’m about to go to bed, too.”

“Then goodnight. Have a sweet dream.”

She smiles. “Thank you, Marco.”

“I’ll see you when you get back?”

The thought of seeing him again sends her another wave of funny, fluttery feeling on her stomach. “Of course.”

Even long after she hangs up and is now lying in her bed, her heartbeat rate is still not yet fully back to normal. And her face feels rather warm. What’s wrong with her? She must’ve drunk too much wine.

But it’s good to hear Marco’s voice again. Really good.

She sighs and closes her eyes.