a/n: I'm just gonna go ahead and dedicate this to all my readers, old and new, anonymous or commenting. I'm not even kidding or exaggerating saying I cherish you all. I'm sorry for the long wait, life does get in the way sometimes. Now I'm back on track, and next part will be published next Sunday. Until then!
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I looked out of the kitchen window. It just kept on snowing. Ok so maybe some of it gave up during the sunny afternoons, and it was probably far from the Minnesotan amount, but still. Christmas day and our house felt cozily embedded. Tucked into the snow duvet. I returned from the kitchen, carefully putting my cup filled with hot chocolate on the table before sitting down once again in the couch next to my grandma.
"Mischa," my grandma smiled warmly, reaching up to pinch my cheek but opting for patting it roughly instead.
I took her paper silk hand in mine. Maybe I was too old by now to be holding my grandmother's hand but whatever. The only witnesses were mom and my grandfather sitting across from me. Julie too of course, except she was sitting on the floor, too occupied with her new phone to notice if so the house gave into the snow and collapsed around her. A low-key Christmas gathering. My cousins with my uncle's relatives. Tim over in California with his grown up daughter. Not that I wanted him here. So. Just the five of us.
The table filled with treats and lit candles and discarded truffle wrappings. Equally discarded wrapping paper on the floor. A big branch leaning in over the scene. A quirky Christmas tree, filled with twisted together notes like butterflies. Wishes for the new year my mom had collected from us, colleagues and friends. A couple of tasteful antique ornaments hanging of the twigs as well. And two hideously sparkly new ones. Gifts from Trish. A pink candy cane and a smirking star with a Santa Claus hat. I suppressed a chuckle watching them spinning around, aggressively twinkling, feeling all warm inside. And not just from the cup's contents. Filled with gratitude. It was weeks since Thanksgiving and now I'd caught up. Now I was thankful. For the first time in how long. Grateful to be able to feel again, without feeling the anxiety dragging me down. Grateful to feel what everybody else probably was feeling during moments like these. Happiness. Joy. Peace of mind. Grateful to be able to feel grateful.
"You happy with your presents?" My grandma asked, and I nodded, looking over to my pile on the floor. Wasn't a very big one. A gift certificate. A new sweater. And the piece the resistance or whatever, a computer. A laptop one. It was used, one of the laptops borrowed by students of mom's art classes or families without means. Worn but not worn-out. Sturdy and reliable in my hands. And it would be resting on my desk most of the time anyway. 'So you don't have to share anymore', my mom had said beaming, probably more proud of herself for letting it into the house than anything else. I was more baffled. Apprehensive. Now that I'd gotten one, I wasn't sure it would do me any good. Maybe I'd end up like Trish and Kat, getting stuck in front of Youtube for hours watching kittens riding skateboards. Or googling the most rare and horrible diseases. Never google diseases. I silently promised myself. Never.
"You happy with your gifts, babu?" My grandma smacked her lips, poking at the crime novel in front of her.
"It's not the one I wanted. Told Elena, the new one. Maybe it was sold out." She sighed, but smiled soon again, pinching my cheek. "You extra handsome tonight," she stated in a typical leaving-out-the-verb Russian way. "All girls chasing after you, yes?" I made a face and she chuckled. There was nothing extra handsome about me for the night. I did smile more though. I had noticed. It was easier, in the way I couldn't remember why it used to feel difficult. And I did have a nice smile, I knew that. But appearance wise? I was wearing my best black jeans and Allen's gray sweater, and had tried to comb through the waves forming in the nape of my neck. If anything, I looked sorta plain. And pale as I got in the middle of winter, especially not having been too keen on basking in the sunlight the last summers. But this spring it would be different.
A heated pinch inside. We'd go, me and Allen. To the sea. Or just to the lake in the Highland park. Because he knew, and it was ok. We'd go and I'd find out whether he tanned or not, maybe see barely there freckles, returning full force on his face. Watch him squint in the sunlight. I bit my lip. The ring catching between my teeth. Allen Allen Allen. I did try. I did. But I still thought way too much about him. Not only thought about him but felt him missing. Almost physically. Imagined phantom pains. Because I hadn't lost a limb when he left but it sure felt like it sometimes. Like a porcelain doll arm that had been easily severed from its soft body, snipp snipp with the scissors, and thrown onto the plane taking him away. Or like I was one of the ginger bread men mom and Julie had been all gigglingly baking yesterday night. With a leg hungrily chewed off. Or a star-shaped hole in its middle. Stupid. It shouldn't matter. He'd be back in a week. Or two. He sent me messages almost every day. Light-hearted everyday ones. That I tried to reply to. The difference between a mile to the Hills or a thousand to Duluth shouldn't matter. But it did.
The distance made me want to talk about him. Mention his name so he didn't feel so far away. At Trish the other night, laughing about the losers at the Christmas dance I'd bitten my lip more than once to keep myself from starting half my sentences with 'Allen does',' Allen says' Allen blah, blah whatever. The same yesterday night. Mom had teasingly asked me if maybe we should save some cookies for Allen and I'd scowled, stuffing my face with gingerbread hearts and stars to keep more words from spilling out. Or maybe just his name. Allen Allen Allen. I sighed, sipping the chocolate, watching mom and grandma fight over the last truffle. The phone burning in my pocket. I hadn't even dared opening his present yet. And soon the official present-opening-day of Christmas would be over. I really should just get on with it. Like it was a chore. Like hell it was. I suddenly felt all confident and Christmas-spririty. Yeah I wanted to talk to him.
"I'll just go..." I mumbled, trying to slip off the couch and away unnoticed during the truffle tug-o-war.
"Already going to hide in room with the computer?" My granddad mused, looking at me over his thin metal framed glasses.
"No just...things, I'll be back in minute," I promised quickly, and hurried up the stairs before anyone else noticed.
I apprehensively approached my desk where the gift was sitting. Like it was a bomb more than a Christmas present.
Carefully picked it up. Not very heavy for its size. Wrapped in white paper with a holly leaf print. A red string tied around it, on top of it being practically covered in tape. 'I wrapped it myself', Allen had declared proudly, handing over a big square of a gift to Trish, wrapped in the same paper. Well, that was pretty obvious. I wondered briefly what he'd gotten her. I'd gotten her a mermaid-shaped bottle of pink bubble bath, knowing it was a 50/50 chance she'd be whacking me over the head with it, declaring it was offensive to women, or loving it. Me and her had made mixed cd's for everyone else. I chose the music, she made the covers. Everyone including Allen.
I untied the string, started peeling away the layers of tape with my too short nails. Finally done, I carefully unwrapped the paper. An ordinary small cardboard box. Much like the outside, it was taped shut meticulously. I smiled to myself, starting up the tape peeling again. And suddenly, like it was hiding a laughing clown inside, the box sprung open. But there was no clown, just a lot of styrofoam peanuts and a clear plastic case. Holy fuck. He'd gone completely off the rails. I backed away from my desk like I'd discovered an actual bomb inside the box. Could fucking feel the sweat pearling on my forehead. Hadn't had a clue the Christmas gift bar was set so high.
I tiptoed over to my desk, peeking inside again. Yep. Still there. Nestled among styrofoam inside the box was an ipod. Brand new. I'd seen the ad's splashed all over the mall, the colors of the rainbow. But this was the sober black one. In a box. On my desk. For me. I'd seen the price in the ads as well. Crazy.
"He's crazy," I even said out loud, poking at it. My finger smudging the clear casing. "Totally fucking mad."
Well I would have to call him now. I hated it in movies when people got gifts and were like 'waah, I can't take this is too much'. Like shut up and take the fucking pony or tropical island if he wants you to have one. But yeah, now I got it. This was way too much. The phone slipping in my clammy hands. But it wasn't Allen who picked up.
"Hey," A thin light voice said instead. Definitely a girl's voice. Like a ten year old girl's voice.
"Hi," I said tensely. "Is Allen there?"
"Who's asking?" The voice on the other end demanded. Ugh.
"A friend," I said shortly. "Who are you?"
"Cordelia," the girl on the other end answered, which didn't enlighten me one bit.
"Ok, Cordelia, can you get Allen for me?" I said, feeling my patience run out. Yeah, kids were fun and all, but mostly they were a fucking nuisance. And I really wanted to talk to Allen before all my confidence and Christmas spirit ran out as well.
"Uhhm, he's not here now. What's your-" suddenly I heard Allen in the background. Couldn't make out what he said, but it was definitely him. Just hand him the phone, you little brat, I begged inwardly, but there was some whining about wanting to talk to people on the phone and Allen's calm convincing. And then silence. The line dead. I looked at my phone disbelievingly. Thirty seconds later it started ringing. And this time there was Allen's voice on the other end.
"Sorry 'bout that, he said, out of breath. "Left my phone in the kitchen and she thought it funny to answer, her parents won't give her a phone of her own, which I totally understand cause she's only nine, but she's very into it. She's my cousin by the way, if she didn't tell you, I'm sure she told you everything about herself, anyways..." He took a deep breath, and I smiled.
"The cousin with the Bambi?"
"The one," Allen laughed. And I wanted to tell him that I was actually having a great time feeling grateful and warm and fuzzy and thinking about him and just really wanted to hear his blanket voice, but none of those words made it out.
"Just wanted to call and wish you merry Christmas just because-" I said instead, stopping myself from finishing with 'you believe in that shit'. It still sounded unbelievingly corny.
"Thanks, you too," Allen replied, and I suddenly remembered why I was calling. My eyes travelling back to my desk. That Cordelia cousin had completely thrown me of my game.
"You're crazy," I said way too softly for him to actually think I meant it, "I can't keep it."
"You have to," Allen replied calmly.
"No, I can't seriously, it's too-"
"No, you really have to keep it Matthew," Allen said, now with a hint of a smile in his voice, "because it's got your name engraved on the back, so. No refund."
The sly bastard. I stared down at the box for a second, only to squeeze my phone between my neck and ear and tear off the clear strip holding the case together. Picking up the cool metal case. Matthew O'Neill it said on the back. Yeah, he was totally off the rails crazy, seriously mad.
"You're crazy," I repeated. "Seriously."
I could hear him shrug dismissively. "No, no, I mean I asked Trisha if there was something special you wanted, and she said you'd lost yours. Wasn't sure if it was a joke but...And there's some earbuds too, since the ipod one's are pretty useless, and some gift certificates, but you can borrow cd's from me of course. I thought you could use your mom's computer..." He rambled on and his accent seemed a little more pronounced than usual and it was so endearing. Too endearing. The pinch. Like I was going to cry or maybe laugh out loud. I'd thought it hard the days without him, but now hearing him. Knowing he was still so far away. His hands and his dimpled smile and his smell. All of him. I dragged the sleeve of his sweater over my eyes, bit my lip hard.
"I actually got my own computer now," I croaked out finally.
"That's great, no worries then!" Allen smiled. And I knew what it felt like, the ache of anxiety and angst and sadness but I hadn't known you could ache just as much from longing. In a completely different way. I miss you. Words lining up inside. But I couldn't say it. Just couldn't. So I voice my worries about impending Youtube addiction instead, and let myself drown for a second in Allen's laugh.
"You'll be around for New Years?" I asked.
"I sure hope so," Allen said softly, "My parents have this charity event," he paused for a second, continuing in a brighter voice. "So yeah, definitely I should be there." Something had shifted. Strange.
"I'll see you then," I said apprehensively.
"Yeah, it'll be great getting together, all of us at Will's," Allen said still brightly, but oddly stilted. The Allen-talking-to-the-Bradford's voice.
"See you then," I repeated, feeling knots tying up my insides.
"Sure," Allen replied, hanging up. Too abruptly. I bit my lip again. Maybe I shouldn't have called. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything about the present and how crazy it was. I side-eyed the box on my desk. My phone beeped. Allen.
'Sorry, awkward talking on the phone with people listening.' Pretty clear who 'people' was. I immediately imagined him looking over his shoulder as Mrs Thomas appeared behind him, raising her perfect eyebrows impatiently. 'That's ok.' I typed out and pressed send before I could think twice about it. Another beep a second later. Three smileys. Like a compensation for the awkward ending. I smiled, stuffing the phone back into my pocket. Poking at the package in front of me. Deciding to keep it a secret for a couple of days longer, not to compete with Julie's new phone euphoria. Still. Crazy.
Back downstairs I sat down next to Julie, on a pillow beneath the out-of-the-ordinary Christmas tree.
"Who were you talking to?" she asked, her eyes still glued to her new phone. My sister with her excellent hearing and penchant for eavesdropping.
"Lis," I answered shortly. I was easier to lie. Easier to pretend the missing gingerbread star was someone other than Allen. Julie didn't seem to notice.
"Look," she said surprisingly friendly, showing me the screen of her phone. A picture of our grandpa with a swirly pink frame around it. "Cute," I nodded. "Don't post it online though." Though I doubted the market for Russian grandpa pics were pretty small. Or unbelievingly huge. Julie scoffed.
"Duh, I know. It's not safe posting your stuff on the internet. Like anyone could get hold of it," she said assertively. Shaking her head at the stupidity of other girls, no doubt. I snorted with laughter, bumping my shoulder against hers. Looking up into the twinkling twirling sky of wishes above me.
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