It was a rather strange Christmas.
As I got older, I realized that Christmas was the one day a year you could pretend that everything was okay. So instead of remembering the divorce, a miscarriage, or a dog dying, you unwrapped a holiday bath set or a new pair of slippers.
That morning, the first thing I did was look out the window. Every year since I learned what a white Christmas was, I wanted one more than anything. I was starting to believe in miracles cause that year, overnight a light snowfall had coated everything in white. It gave me hope that maybe it would be a normal Christmas.
After the accident, my parents avoided each other at all costs. They never fought when I was home anymore because they didn't interact with each other. When one came into a room, the other would leave. My dad worked late so he never had to sit at the dinner table with us. My mom took afternoon shifts at the grocery store so she could sleep in and not eat breakfast with my dad. It felt oddly peaceful, even though they weren't going to be together soon.
They even got each other presents, breaking their silent pact to avoid each other.
"A new belt?" My dad said, expressing his distaste for the bright red piece of leather, "Thanks Chika, I'll use this, probably."
She smiled tightly, "I know, and I love the sweater three sizes too big, thank you Thomas." Then to me she said, "Jake, open your last present."
I was between my mom and dad, a wall reminding them to behave. We were all sitting around a short little tree with about ten ornaments hanging on it. My mom hung up a few then got bored. Every year, she insisted on buying a fresh tree, even though my father said it was economically smarter to buy a fake one. Then they would get into the same argument, that Christmas meant more to my dad than my mom because he actually believed in a religion. All I heard was that I was the one who had to crawl under the tree to water it and take it down. It made me almost hate Christmas. You wouldn't enjoy having to get rained on by a hundred little needles every other day to stop your house from potentially burning down.
I decided early on that I would be one of those people who did not get a tree when I moved out.
I looked around the tree, underneath the tattered wrapping paper, and behind the manger with mismatched pieces and a black baby Jesus my mom had bought at a garage sale. My eyebrows furrowed, there were no more presents.
"Uh," I said, puzzled, "Where is it?"
Without answering, my mom shot up and excitedly ran towards the garage. My dad just pulled out his phone and checked his email. A second later she appeared with the metal contraption, a giant red bow sitting on top between the handlebars.
"A bike!" I exclaimed with fake enthusiasm.
I hadn't asked for a bike, nor did I want one. It was the least practical gift they had gotten me, tied with the snowboard and a giftcard to a paintball range. I think they forget sometimes they had a son that didn't like physical exertion. But I didn't want to rain on her happiness charade.
My mom wheeled it over to me.
"But I have a car guys." I added politely.
My dad shrugged, "Yeah but your car is getting old, this is in case he ever breaks down."
"She is a tank." I corrected.
I don't know why guys always assumed their cars were girls, but my truck felt like a little sister I took care.
I felt my phone buzz in the pocket of my flannel pajama pants:
Mia @ 10:56
check your mailbox, then throw out your phone, this message explodes in 3...2...1...BOOM!
I smiled. My mom was already on the couch watching some holiday movie about the gift of giving. As for my dad, he disappeared with his belt. I shoved my feet into my mom's slippers and walked across the yard, a thin layer of snow crunching beneath me. I opened the mailbox and peered inside. There was a note written in purple ink with a lavender bow tied around it.
Meet at our place.
-M
I ran inside, nearly tripping on my mom's tiny slippers as I headed upstairs. I kicked her shoes off and changed out of the ridiculous matching pajamas my mom demanded the entire family.. Without wrapping Mia's gift, I grabbed it from my desk and skipped down the stairs. My heart beated a little faster at the thought of seeing her face when I gave her my gift.
---
It started snowing again as I pulled in next to Mia's car. It was definitely a snowy winter in Jersey that year. I was supposed to graduate on a Monday, but my graduation got pushed back all the way to a Friday due to all the snow days off from school. Everyone at school complained, even Mia, but I didn't really care as long as I graduated and I would never have to see anyone from school ever again.
I turned off my car and looked around Green Acres.
Our place.
It was where we shared our first kiss, our first date.
I climbed out of my car and walked over to hers and peered inside the window, but to my surprise, she wasn't there. I checked my phone, not a single text. I looked around again, and that's when I saw her waiting for me across the soccer field, holding a pastel yellow umbrella. My heart nearly burst out of my chest. I tucked her gift in my coat pocket and walked over to her, leaving a trail of footprints in the snow.
I stopped about five feet away.
"You like?" She asked, twirling her umbrella.
Her hair was so big, it didn't fit underneath it, collecting snow like a lint roller. She shook her hair.
"Christmas gift?" I smiled.
She nodded, "From Brandon."
My jaw dropped, "What?"
"Kidding," She laughed, "From my mom." She could barely hold in her excitement, "Now, are you ready to see what I got you?"
Without waiting for an answer, she pulled a thick rectangular package from inside her coat and handed it to me. My hands were trembling a little. What if my gift for her was lame in comparison? She had wrapped my gift in red paper with little gold hearts on it. I felt momentarily guilty for not wrapping her present. I tore the paper off in one rip and revelled at the thoughtfulness in the gift.
A moleskin journal with a little silver plaque that had my initials and hers engraved on it.
I chuckled. The first person to ever get me a gift that was... me.
"What?" She worried, "Do you not like it? I thought you could write in it and story board, you know that comic thing you do for videos?"
"No Mia, it's great, it's actually the greatest gift I've gotten, like ever," I dug in my pocket, "But I guess we had the same idea, sorta."
I handed her the small little black box and watched, nervous and excited. It was a two part gift.
Part one.
"What a cheesy gift to get me." Mia smiled, raising an eyebrow.
"Do you want me to return it?" I raised a brow back.
"No!" She exclaimed, clutching it to her chest, "I love it!"
It was a vintage silver locket with a picture of us in it. On the other half, our initials engraved in neat cursive. It cost a year's worth of allowance to get the jewelry guy to engrave it, but it was worth every cent to see that smile on her face.
Time for part two.
I took a deep breath. Now or never.
"Mia James, I have been feeling this way about you for awhi-" I started, but she cut me.
"Don't you dare say it, Jake Morrow." Mia threatened, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt.
I hadn't realized, but I had somehow gravitated closer to her, my footprints etched in the snow as evidence. She stayed rooted, no neat little prints. I felt her words in my stomach, as if someone were stabbing me over and over again with a dull knife.
"Why?" I asked nervously, my cheeks turning pink.
"Because," She let me squeeze under the umbrella, "Love is fleeting, Jake."
I didn't entirely understand, but I loved her, so I accepted whatever it meant. I mean technically, it wasn't a no. She probably loved me too. Just not ready to say it. Or at least that's what I told myself.
I rolled my eyes,"Now who's the cliche?"
She pulled my chin towards her, kissed me lightly, then said, "Shut up and take me somewhere dry. I have to catch a train to New York in the morning."
Under the umbrella, I could hear the snow turn to slush. When it get warmer, it would become rain and wash away the wintery wonder. In a way, love is like an umbrella. It weathers and shields us from the problems we don't want to face. Sometimes because we do not feel the rain, we forget it's there. We forget the problems are there.
But like almost anything in this world, umbrellas can break, get lost, or simply be forgotten in someone's car or at the store, and we will remember once again how the rain feels. Reminding us that problems do not go away.
We walked back to our cars and deep down, I hoped she loved me too. Deep down, I hoped she wasn't just shielding me from the rain.