The Materialists | Book 1 + 2 ✔

31 | farewell, _____ _____

The one playing now being silent night.

I think Christmas is one of the only days that brings actual peace in my household. Maybe not love, or cheer, as the Holiday is meant for, but peace.

No arguing, no scolding, nothing. Just my Father playing on his piano with the fireplace on and my Mother waiting calmly for the day to pass so that on December 26th she can return to being the heartless bitch she is.

Seeing those two, looking like normal parents, I almost began to care about them for a second.

And then I remembered where I'd be returning to after Christmas break, and the long text I recieved from her played like a recording in my head. And for a quick second, I wish that fireplace burned down this house.

I didn't want to intrude, or more specifically go anywhere near those two at all. So I tiptoed out of the livingroom and into the kitchen. The house had two kitchens. A chefs kitchen, and the bigger one. The bigger one stayed spotless, and the chefs kitchen stayed out of sight. There were eggs on the stove, and bread in the toaster. An hot chocolate in a mug next to a plate with just strawberries.

Was this for me? Probably not, to be honest. But at the moment I didn't care. Whoever it was for could make some more. Shoveling the eggs onto the plate, and re-toasting the bread, I glanced around the kitchen.

I wish I was back in Isaia's, baking that stupid cake I never got to try and probably did have eggshells in after all. I wish I was still wearing that stupid apron.

There were some packages on the Island, and envelopes. Probably the mail from yesterday or the day before, I concluded. Walking around the table to sort through it anyway. Maybe someone in this stupid family I actually cared about sent me something.

There was a small package, without a stamp or anything. Just a small wrapped box, the size of an ipod touch.

Scribbled on the top in Sharpie, was "For Laura Strathen."

Did someone hand deliver this? Not thinking about it more, I carefully pulled apart the tape and wrapping paper that had gingerbread men on it. The box itself was a basic black one. The kind that jewerly comes in.

And on that black box was a tiny paper note folded so small it was close to being wrinkled. Confused, I opened the box.

And sitting inside, was a silver necklace chain, on the end being a silver rose flower. I have a lot of jewerly, a wide collection of necklaces as well because those are hardest to lose in comparison to braclets or rings.

But this necklace was so... it was just different. I've never seen anything like it before. It was so simple, but so dainty and delicate. Wondering who'd given me it, I took the time to unfold the printer paper. And on it was a long note. Like a whole 5 paragraph essay.

Dear Laura Strathen,

Within the 4 stupid months I knew you, I can confidently say, I wish it was longer.

You know probably more than everyone else how in love I was with Tao. I hope you don't hate me for bringing her up in a gift to you, but I wanted you to know this. She isn't the one I love anymore.

I think I haven't loved her for a while, but I think you helped me realize that more clearly. And you helped me out of a pretty... toxic relationship... to say the least. Even if you didn't realize it. I think I always went with the popular majority in the group. I never really objected to doing anything because I never really cared much. Sometimes I felt like I had to, since they were all my friends. So when you showed up and convinced basically everyone to turn against the person I cared so much for at the time, I just kind of went with it.