12 Months//michael clifford short story

december

  December was when we decided I needed more clothes.

We strolled through the department store, Michael telling me what to grab.

"Grab that, it's sexy." He directed, pointing at a lace bra set. "And that." A minute later, at a pair of jeans.

Once I had gathered a few necessities, we went towards the changing rooms.

Michael chatted with the lady outside, as I went in.

I couldn't stop shaking. My hands trembled as I reached into the oversized bag and pulled out a bag of scissors.

"You have to do it." Michael had told me earlier. "You won't get caught, don't worry." He reassured me until I agreed. "You know we can't afford buying stuff now"

"You're hot." I hear Michael outside, as I willed myself to speed up. I hurriedly clipped off the tags as best as I could, double checking the items as I went along.

"Aren't you with that girl?" The girl asks. I can hear the smile in your voice.

"No. Besides, you're better."

I pushed the clothes into my bag, not caring about the tags I left behind.

I peeked my head out the door. Michael was standing in front of the girl, her back to mine. I couldn't see what they were doing, but I rushed out, knowing Michael would meet me minutes later.

Outside, I waited. Eventually, longer than I expected, he met me outside, and kissed me with swollen lips.

Christmas day, Michael pulled out a bottle of wine. He got it from a friend, he told me. It was a surprise. Merry Christmas.

I sat on his lap in the living room, the two of us sipping out of paper cups as he put his hand up my shirt.

Merry Christmas to me.