*
I wake up with my face buried in Storie's neck, my arm draped over her body. Weak winter sunlight is trying to filter through the thin gap between her curtains, though the sun hasn't properly risen yet – a good thing, considering sunrise is at eight, I have to be at work at nine, and it takes an hour to get to Cleveland from here.
According to my phone, it's seven twenty-four. Probably shouldn't have stayed up late and had those couple beers last night because all I want to do is close my eyes and pull Storie close and fall asleep again. But she has work too, so I get up with a discontented groan and take advantage of no-one else being up to jump in the shower.
I don't have long. We need to be gone in, like, twenty minutes max. I don't take any more than five minutes on a quick rinse, and Storie's up when I return to her room. Her hair's falling out of its plait and she looks all sleepy and adorable.
"Ugh," she says. More of a grunt, really.
"Mood."
"I can't be bothered to go to work today," she says with a heavy sigh as she digs out fresh underwear and uncrumples her jeans. "Why can't we just stay in bed?" A huge yawn takes over her face for a moment.
"Might be a bit suspicious if you call in sick on Christmas Eve."
"Just a bit. Ugh. Okay. Are you okay grabbing breakfast on the road?"
"Yup." I probably won't have time to change once I get to work, so I have to get into my elf costume now. At least the new one fits better – thanks for quitting, Baz – but it's still a tunic and tights, and it still makes Storie laugh when she looks up from her bra hunt to see me dolled up like Santa's little helper.
"Sorry, it gets me every time," she says, grinning. "Looking fine, Mr Alexander." She finds her bra under the bed and pulls a fresh top out of her bag, remarkably wrinkle free, and manages to change in a matter of seconds. Within fifteen minutes of waking up, we're both ready to hit the road, and it surprises me when I don't want to go.
I was so nervous about coming here, and now I don't want to leave. I want to have breakfast with Tad and Jen; I want to hang out with Gray and Navya. I want to spend time with Storie and her family.
No-one else is awake. Storie leaves a note on the kitchen table and before long, we're driving out of Five Oaks. The town lives up to its name at last, now that the tree in her backyard is growing into a proper little oak to join the other four in the town center.
"I loved this," I say as we hit the first junction out of town, tapping my fingers on my knee in time with the song Storie's playing. It's one of her own playlists, and every song so far has been great.
"The song?"
"No – well, yes, Harry Styles is pretty great – but I meant coming back to Five Oaks. Seeing your family again. I really enjoyed it. And I forgot how fun Gray is. And how sweet your mom is. I still can't believe she hugged me."
"See?" She squeezes my knee. "I told you it'd be fine. I wouldn't say that if I didn't believe it."
I put my hand over hers, running my thumb over her fingers, and let out a long sigh. For the first time in a long time, there's an absence of nerves in my chest. If anything, what I'm feeling is hope. Like the only way is up. Like the future is bright.
I lift Storie's hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles, and when we come to a red light, she looks at me with love in her eyes.
When we get to Cleveland's Second Best Winter Wonderland, it's a struggle to get out of the car, knowing I've got a long day of work ahead and it'll be a while before I see Storie; I promised Daria I'd come home for the entire week between Christmas and the new year.
"Have you got any plans for New Year's Eve?" I ask as I get out of the car.
"Um, no," Storie says, laughing. "Not much of a party animal, still. I'll be home, I'm sure."
"Any chance you want to come to mine?"
She raises her eyebrows. "Yours, as in Cincinnati?"
"Yeah. I'm going home tonight, and I'll be there until New Year's Day, at least. I'm not actually sure what my plans are for the new year." I've made enough to cover the next month's rent, but ahead of that? I've got no clue. All I've done is give myself another four weeks to figure my shit out.
"All right," Storie says. "Yeah. That'd be nice, actually. I'd love to."
"Really?" I expected her to say no; I figured she'd want to spend the time with her family rather than mine.
"Yeah, that sounds good. I'll be there."
"Awesome! I guess I'll see you in a week, then?"
"Sounds like forever," she says. She isn't wrong. "I can't wait."
The car behind us honks at Storie to move on. I step away from the door and shut it; she winds down the window to say goodbye, and then she's gone, and I drag myself into the garden center.
"Morning, Liam!" Kaylani's wearing an uncharacteristically bright smile.
"Hey, Kaylani. Why're you so happy?"
"It's Christmas Eve!"
I narrow my eyes at her. "You give off major grinch vibes. Are you a secret Christmas fan?"
She laughs and shakes her head. "Nah, not really. But Christmas Eve means it's the last day of the Winter Wonderland! Which means the last day in the costume!"
Oh, yeah. I knew I was forgetting something. This is my last day with a job.
"And you were finally growing on me," I joke, hanging up my coat in the break room. "What're you gonna do after the holidays then?"
She shrugs. "Back to being a regular old student," she says. "I go to Case Western. This is just a convenient winter job."
"Wait, how old are you?"
"Twenty-two," she says, like it's obvious. I almost laugh. This whole time I've been bossed around by someone two years younger than me. "What about you? Any plans, other than missing me catastrophically?"
"Not yet," I admit. "I think I'm probably gonna have to move in with my parents for a bit, see how things go. Unless you happen to know anyone looking to hire a business graduate for ... well, virtually anything?"
She pulls a face. "Sorry, Liam. I can't help you there. But, hey, I'll keep an ear out."
For once, she sounds sincere. "Thanks, Kaylani."
"You can call me Lani," she says.
I press a hand to my chest. "Really? On our last day working together?"
She rolls her eyes at me and pushes my shoulder. Her hat threatens to fall off her head, even though she has tied her Afro into a couple of tight buns and pinned the hat down between them. "I was thinking maybe we could hang out sometime outside of work? As, like, friends?"
"Seriously?"
"Yeah! I know surprisingly few people my age in the city, and you're pretty cool," she says, "and I wanna keep up with the latest developments between you and complicated girl. So if you're down for an extra friend, th—"
"Yeah, I'd like that," I say. And I mean it. I can't exactly turn down a chance at friendship when I'm virtually alone in this city. "On one condition."
She raises an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"
"I'm not cleaning up any puke today. If you dare radio me with a code blue, our friendship's off."
"Deal." She sticks out her hand, grinning wide. "Now, get to work, my friend. I'll catch you at lunch."
*
At times it feels like the day is dragging, but before I know it, it's four o'clock and the Winter Wonderland is shutting for the final time – a couple hours early, because it's Christmas Eve – and after Kaylani and I have swapped numbers, I'm on a bus back to Ohio City.
I spend as little time in my apartment as possible. It takes all of ten minutes for me to shower and change into clean clothes -I had to put on last night's outfit in order to leave the elf costume at the garden center, ready to be washed for next year – and grab everything I'll need for a week at home.
Not much, it turns out. My laptop and my phone; my chargers; anything in the fridge that'll expire soon. Everything else I have at home, and there isn't much here that I'd miss if the place went up in flames tomorrow.
By four thirty, I'm in the car with my music on, starting with a few tracks Storie played this morning, and I have my sights set on Cincinnati. If all goes well, I'll be home for half past eight, and my sisters will still be up, and there'll be leftovers I can pick at, if my family has even eaten by then. If the journey isn't good, I should still be there before midnight, and at least one of my parents will still be up, prepping to pretend to be Santa for the girls.
*
The gods are on my side. Last time I made this trip, it took me seven hours. But today, the snow and ice have been cleared from the roads and everyone seems to already be where they want to be for Christmas, so virtually I have the I-71 to myself for nearly two hundred fifty miles. I probably break the speed limit a few times – it's dangerously easy to do that when the roads are clear and I have good music and my mood is high – but there are no cruisers out patrolling, no flashing lights pulling me over.
Okay, I definitely broke the speed limit, because when I come off the interstate for the crawl to my parents' house, it's only three hours since I left my apartment. Google Maps said it'd take three hours forty, and I'm only ten minutes from home. Oops.
But I can't feel bad, because I'm so nearly there, and I have a whole week to spend with my family, to relax in a comfortable bed, and I'll see Storie again at the end of the week. And then it'll be a whole new year. A whole new host of opportunities.
It's seven forty-five when I park behind Mom's people carrier and I don't have a chance to dig out my key because Daria throws open the front door and races out to meet me.
"Liam! You're here! Mommy said you'd be late!"
"I made it, Dar. I had to see you before Santa gets here!" I grab her in a tight hug and swing her around, and she giggles in my ear. "Is everyone here!"
"Yeah! Everybody! You're the last one!" When I let her go, she snatches my hand and tugs me inside, into the living room, where an enormous Christmas tree is dripping with decorations above stacks of wrapped gifts – which reminds me, shit, mine are all unwrapped in the back of my car – and my entire family is in here.
"And then there were nine!" Matthew crows, lifting his glass of what looks like champagne. "You made it, perfect timing. We weren't sure we'd see you tonight."
"I made good time. The I-71 was dead," I say, dropping my stuff at the side of the couch when Mom comes over for a hug. She smells like cinnamon and cloves and all things Christmassy, probably because of the glass of mulled wine in her hand.
"Liam, honey!" She plants a kiss on my cheek. "I'm so glad you made it! Happy Christmas Eve, baby!"
"Happy Christmas Eve, Mom." I hug her tightly, taking a moment to appreciation the comfort and safety of my mom's hug.
"Here, let me get you a drink," she says. "What would you like? Champagne? Mimosa? Mulled wine? The boys are on beer, if you want."
"Or, you know, something without alcohol," Matthew jokes. I'm not sure that's his first glass of champagne. He always gets jolly when he drinks, and it never takes much because he hardly touches the stuff.
"Beer sounds good," I say, dropping onto a free space on one of the couches, tired after the drive. Anna, wearing a fluffy onesie, scoots across the cushions to nuzzle against my arm.
"Hi, Lee-Lee," she says. I put my arm around her and snuggle her close.
"Hey, Anna banana. How excited are you about Christmas?"
Her eyes light up. "So excited. Santa's gonna come!"
"He sure is!" Mom says, shooting us boys a look, like any of us would dare ruin the magic for our sisters. I wish I was still a kid and I believed in Santa, but that innocence was stolen from me when I was eight and it was all downhill from there, so I'll do what I can to preserve Anna and Daria's belief for as long as possible.
"What'd you ask him for?" I ask, and I end up bookended by both of my sisters, rattling off their Christmas lists. Knowing my dad, he probably requested their itemized lists in November, so he could check them over before they were sent to the North Pole. Knowing Mom, everything on those lists will be wrapped in different paper, with different handwriting on the labels to avoid arousing suspicion.
"Still with Storie?" George asks.
"Yup."
"So she hasn't come to her senses yet."
"You're a dick," I say. He shrugs. "She's coming here on New Year's Eve, if that's all right?"
"Oh, honey, of course! That'll be so wonderful," Mom says, bustling over with a beer that she's poured into a glass. "I'm so glad you two have worked it out. She's such a doll."
Dad, who hasn't said anything so far from his armchair in the corner where he's – shock horror – wearing a silk dressing gown rather than a suit, lifts his glass at me. "I'm happy for you, Liam. Storie's a wonderful girl." He takes a sip. "She'll make a wonderful wife."
I choke on my beer. "Dad. Damn. It's a bit soon for that kind of talk," I say, though it ignites a flame of thought. I mean, I don't ever want to break up with Storie again. She's the one. She's The One. And if she feels the same way, then I guess, at some distant point in the future, maybe there will be wedding bells.
But tonight is too soon. We've only been back together less than a couple weeks. So I laugh it off, even though the thought of marrying Storie makes me feel all kinds of ways. All of them good. For a flicker of a moment, I picture Storie walking towards me in a white dress, and my heart does a cartwheel.
Don't get carried away, I tell myself, focusing on a long sip of beer to cool my throat and gather my thoughts.
"Dude, you so want to marry her," Johnny says, laughing. "Damn, Matty, you're gonna have to step it up else Liam's gonna be the first one of us to get married!"
Matt laughs. "I'm about as close to marriage as you are, Johnny."
Before the conversation can go any further, though it's already gone far enough, Mom announces that dinner's ready and the nine of us schlep next door to the huge dining table for our Christmas Eve tradition of baked salmon and potatoes with a variety of vegetables that Mom's decanted into bowls all around the table. I end up sitting between my sisters again, so I serve them first, before digging into my own portion.
God, it's good to be home. If only for the food.
After dinner, the sleepy girls go to bed, Anna carried by Dad, and the rest of us return to the living room. Sam snags the best seat, right by the fireplace currently pumping out delicious heat from a proper fire, so I end up on a sofa with Johnny and George. The moment Mom sits down on the other sofa, next to Matt, she springs up again and finds a wrapped parcel that she presents to me.
"Before I forget. Everyone else has already had theirs."
I know what it is before I tear open the wrapping paper. Another Christmas Eve tradition – new pajamas. "Thanks, Mom," I say, unfolding the thick flannel. "These are perfect." The older I get, the more I appreciate pajamas – and, of course, socks and underwear. There's no such thing as too many socks.
A couple minutes later, I'm warm and snug in my new pajamas, with a glass of hot mulled wine in my hand. Ordinarily I don't touch wine, but make it festive and I'm all over it. There's just something about adding a bit of orange and spice.
Dad comes down twenty minutes after taking Anna and Daria upstairs, and he sinks onto the sofa next to Mom, his arm slipping around her shoulders as he kisses her temple. I love witnessing those small, tender moments between my parents, each one thawing out my image of Dad as an icy statue.
"So, we've got you until the new year?" he asks, the question directed at me.
"Yeah. Maybe longer. I'm not sure, yet. I might have to take you up on that offer to move home for a bit," I say. "Today was the last day of the job I got at the Winter Wonderland, and I have enough for January's rent, but I don't really know what my plan is."
"Well, the door's always open," Dad says, absently curling a lock of Mom's blonde hair around his finger. "Maybe you'd be better off saving your money and staying her for a little while longer."
I nod, sipping my wine. "Yeah, probably." Let's be honest, my apartment isn't worth even half what I'm paying for it. But moving home, even if only for a month, means moving away from Storie. And she's more than enough of a reason to stay in the city. "We'll see. I'll think about it."
"If you don't move back," Sam says, "can I have your room?"
"In your dreams."
"No fair. You're, like, forty. I should totally get your room. You shoulda moved out already!"
I snort. "I'm twenty-four, Sammy. Not that old, really. And I have moved out. Basically. Mostly. But sometimes I come home, and when I do, I don't wanna come home to your gross, stinky room."
Mom chuckles. "One day, Sammy, one day. Maybe once Liam's married and he's got his own place."
Oh, no. We're veering dangerously close to the topic of me marrying Storie again. Matt, reading my mind, swerves it in a different direction.
"What's the plan for tomorrow? Are we walking? Church? Staying in all day?"
I settle in my seat as the conversation turns to tomorrow's plans – the girls will probably wake us up by six, Mom warns – and the combination of a big dinner and the long drive catches up with me. All of a sudden, my eyelids are heavy and it's only nine o'clock, but I spent all day on my feet after not enough sleep last night.
"Is it too early to be a party pooper?" I ask, finishing off my wine.
"You just wanna go and sext with your girlfriend," George says.
"George." Dad scowls. His scowl is terrifying, but it washes off my little brother like water off a duck's back. I think, as the second oldest, Matt and I probably had a wildly different experience of Dad. He got softer and more relaxed with each kid, once he was older and life was more stable. Maybe we'd be closer if I'd been the fourth born instead.
"I'm kidding!" George cries. He wasn't kidding.
"Not that it's any of your business," I say, "but no, that's not what I was planning. I've been up since seven and I worked eight hours on my feet, and I drove three hours, and now I can't keep my eyes open."
Dad raises his eyebrows. "Three hours?"
Of course he'd pick up on that. "More like three and a half."
Johnny whistles. "From Cleveland? Dude, you're so gonna have a speeding fine waiting for you when you go home."
"Then I won't go home. I'll stay right here, in my room," I say, staring pointedly at Sam. "Sorry to bow out early, but I need a good night's sleep. Thanks for dinner, Mom."
"My pleasure, honey. Sleep well! See you in the morning!"
I trudge upstairs, yawning all the way, and collapse into my bed. And as I close my eyes for sleep to take over, my thoughts turn to Storie. Who needs sweet dreams when I have her?
*
i got a new laptop yesterday (long overdue!) and managed to bash out quite a bit of writing! i hope you liked this!