finding permanence

44: Max

Last year, if you told me I'd be waking up to a girl like Sam on Christmas morning, I wouldn't believe it. I had Serena who was probably already cheating on me, guiding me along like a little sheep.

Sam's skin is soft against mine and the light from a creak in her window curtain is slashing across her face. I slouch my body down so that we lay face to face, watching her stir awake.

"Merry Christmas," I whisper.

There's no verbal response, but she shifts her arm to rest across my stomach, pulling herself closer. I'm hyper aware of the knowledge I'm in boxers and Sam is in the shirt of mine that she threw on when she got cold last night. I try adjusting myself, so I don't give away the way that knowledge makes me feel, but the vibration of Sam's laughter on my chest makes me give up. "Shut up." I squeeze her tighter to me.

"Good morning," she replies.

"It is. This is the best morning."

"Is it weird that you're not with your family right now?" I had told Sam all about our family Christmas traditions before the disaster of last night happened. This is the first time in my whole life that I won't be at my parent's house for Christmas. Every year has been the same up until now. I'd wake up in my childhood bed, either Jason shaken awake by Jason or I'd wake him up, we'd go downstairs and our parents would already be awake with coffee in the kitchen. My mom would have cinnamon rolls in the oven and hot chocolate with extra whipped cream waiting for us.

Christmas is always one of the best memories I think about having with my family. If you told me last year that I wouldn't be with them this morning, I wouldn't believe you.

"Yeah. But I'm glad to be here instead." I drop a kiss to the top of her head. It is weird, but I don't lie. Waking up next to Sam is how I want to wake up every morning.

"I could do your family traditions with you," she offers. So sweet. "I do have to be at work at 9:00." It's only just turning 7:00 and I'm glad for the couple hours we have until then. "I did get you a present and there's hot chocolate in the pantry. I don't have cinnamon rolls, but I have Cinnamon Toast Crunch."

"Do you have any Christmas traditions?" If she's willing to do mine, I'm more than willing to do her's.

"Well, I go to my parents for dinner. My dad smokes a brisket all day in preparation and my mom and I make the sides. Usually, cauliflower mac and cheese and Brussel sprouts." She sits up in bed and I follow, both our backs pressed against the wall. Her hand slips in mine, "They don't mind taking holiday shifts. Christmas has always been a time where we've liked to do things for others rather than ourselves."

"That's sweet," I say. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to do those traditions with her, but don't worry about it further when she states an offer.

"You can come over for dinner tonight, my parents and I would love to have you. And you know the girls would love to see you if you want to stop by the orphanage at any point today." I'm silently trying to weigh my options. I don't want to impose, but she's my girlfriend now, so is it really imposing? "Do you think you'll call your mom or go over to their house?"

"No. She needs to reach out first on this one. And I thought about what you said, she needs to apologize, we can't just move on like nothing happened." The day she says sorry may never come. My mom is prideful and it's hard for her to see when she's wrong. If I have to be the one to confront things when she inevitably brushes it off like nothing, I will.

"How long do you think it will take?"

"She's already texted me and tried to call, asking if I'd be over today. I need to cool off before I'm ready to talk though because I'll just end up saying something I'd regret. I'm too hyped up with the need to defend your honor."