CHRISTMAS SHOPPING! I've never really known why I love it so much, I guess it's like the ultimate test to see how well you know your loved ones. Naomi and I head out to the mall at noon on Sunday and it is packed.
There's a giant Christmas tree a hundred feet tall in the center of the mall where people can take photos with Santa Claus. Christmas carols and pop Christmas songs play in all the stores as people hustle and bustle about.
Outside the windows, it rains; it never really snows here, according to Naomi, it just rains. I don't mind it. In the store windows are a thousand snowflakes, Santa Claus's, and multicolored Christmas lights.
The two of us spend an hour and a half shopping together by which time I have presents for Adrian, both my parents, Michelle, and of course Dylan. I got something for his mom, too. I have no idea if she'll like it but here's for hoping.
Afterward, we split up to inevitably find presents for one another which only takes me fifteen minutes. I got her another present via the internet last week. Dylan too. I go a little crazy.
We meet back up in the food court at two thirty. Naomi indulges in some cheeseburger and French fry eating while I sip a strawberry banana smoothie that gives me a brain freeze. For some reason, my best friend decides it would be a grand idea to take Santa photos, so we wait in line among hyper children excited to see Mister Claus and parents struggling to keep them together and their clothes neat.
It feels so strange to get your photo taken in front of so many people while they're watching. Pretty much everyone in line is staring at us, so that's great. The photos turn out great though, and the minimum amount you can get is four so we're each left with two.
A lady pulls aside and tries to sell us an expensive hair straightener by flat ironing Naomi's hair with it. She ends up buying a purple one for her younger sister. There's also a giant pet store in this mall so I drag my best friend over to it so I can fawn over the adorable little puppies they have. I always look at puppies and imagine owning them, but never have. Sigh.
On our way through the mall to side where we parked, we pass some sort of Christmas-themed talent show that's raising money for the Salvation Army. Currently a Jazz band (that sounds phenomenal) is playing a Jazz version Jingle Bell Rock.
Naomi and I listen to the rest of the song during which time we realize with great surprise that the drummer is none other than Football Guy Two! Otherwise known as James.
When their set is over, my best friend and I each donate ten dollars before finding James and saying a quick hi to him. The more you learn, huh? Never would've thought...
Finally, Naomi and I decide it's time to head off. I drop her off at her house before heading to my own, where I delve into the business that is present-wrapping.
I'm honestly not sure how I got so good at wrapping presents, but I am. Not that I'm complaining, in fact when I was in middle school my family members and neighbors would pay me to wrap a few things for them. It was a good business while it lasted. But you know, the economy these days put us out of business.
That amazing, familiar, jolly feeling I get around Christmas time fills me up as I listen to festive tunes and drink hot chocolate with snowman-shaped marshmallows. My favorite holiday is just three days away!
True to his word, my father doesn't go to work all week. The two of us spend a significant amount of father-daughter time; watching movies we've always wanted to see but never have, baking festive cookies, decorating the Christmas tree, and singing Christmas carol karaoke. Basically, we have a lot of fun enjoying activities with one another's wonderful company.
I can't say the same thing of my mother. Despite the holidays creeping around the corner, she continues to be missing all day, everyday. Her absence used to worry, confuse and sadden me.
More recently it began to frustrate me, but now I've gone past the point of caring. If she won't bother to come home for even a minute or answer her phone when I call her, then I won't bother caring.
Still, I can't help but wonder what has gotten into her. This behavior is relatively new, as it began about a month after we moved here to California. I like to assume it's all linked to her work life, but an air of suspicion and doubt continuously lingers in the back of my mind.
More than anything, I feel badly for my father. It is painfully obvious how much this entire ordeal bothers him, but I can't do much of anything about it.
When he tries to get to the bottom of the problem is when the arguments start. My father will ask a question and mom flips out, immediately taking a defensive stance on the situation.
Twenty minutes into the argument she starts attacking, often cursing in a rainbow of colorful words. On what I refer to as The Lucky Days, my parents will only bicker back-and-forth for maybe three minutes. Otherwise, they yell for anywhere between fifteen to thirty minutes.
Tonight is not one of The Lucky Days.
My father and I are huddled close together on one of the couches beneath a shared blue blanket with snowmen and snowflakes on it. A classic Christmas-time movie from the 1940's plays on the television at nine o'clock at night, which is when my mother decides to stroll through the front door.
My dad pauses the film while mom walks into the living room to approach the pair of us. The argument unfolds right before my eyes.
Mom is dressed warmly, though I notice her clothes are considerably wet. It must be raining outside, it's been doing that a lot lately. She sets her bag on the floor and removes her coat with careful movements, "Hi. How's it going?"
"Going well. You?", dad returns. I notice that now they don't speak to one another much like I'd imagine a married couple to.
"Great. It's raining cats and dogs out there."
"Is that why it took you so long to get home?"
This is where it starts.
Something in mom's demeanor changes when she answers, "Yes, actually, that would be a part of it."
"What's the other part of it?", dad asks calmly, still sitting at my side.
She throws her arms up wildly, "What do you think?!"
"I'd like to think you were working, but I honestly have no idea."
"This is how it goes half the time I come home, Scott."
"Because half the time you come home, Anita and I are already asleep."
The truth in that statement cannot be denied, but the mention of my name causes my heart to skip a beat. My mother steals a quick glance at me, and I feel myself afraid to stare back at her, even for a moment.
"What do you want me to say?", she asks, crossing her arms.
Dad stands up now, abandoning me on the couch, "Considering how many times we've been over this, I'd think you would know what I want to hear."
"I don't know what you want to hear!", mom is yelling now. "Any time I give you an answer it's not good enough for you!"
"Because your 'answers' don't necessarily qualify as answers, in my book."
"For fuck's sake, nothing qualifies as anything in your book!"
I hide in the blanket, shrinking back into the couch. Every other time my parents have fought, I've never been in the room with them; I've only heard from a distant room a floor above.
Dad looks confused at the statement, and I can't much blame him, "What does that even mean?"
Mom laughs bitterly which stirs some sort of anger in me, "That's the problem with you, you're so pathetically ignorant!"
My phone vibrates in my jeans pocket with a phone call, but I'm too afraid and glued on the conversation to move, let alone answer the call.
"Yes, I am ignorant!", dad retaliates, now yelling also. "Ignorant to where you are all night, practically every night, what you are doing, and why!"
"I've answered all those questions for you before and more!"
"I seriously think you fail to comprehend the exact effects of your actions."
"Really?!"
"Yes, really!"
I feel my phone vibrating again and once again I let it go, though I grow more and more irritated with the argument as each word is being said. Mostly from my mother.
She tilts her head to the side questioningly, in a mocking manner, "Okay so tell me what it is that I don't know!"
"The fact that you are gone for hours on end without any notice of where or why is agonizing and worrying more than anything else! Some nights I'm up wondering if you got into an accident of some kind or something else crazy like that.
"Anita was home all alone last week, every day despite you informing me you would be here with her! You not being here makes the two of us, your family, feel like you don't want to be here. And the saddest part is that we're getting used to it. It's becoming routine."
If I felt it was appropriate to do so, I would cheer my father on. Everything he says is spot on and I hope my mother can see that and realize what's happening. She doesn't.
"You speak like I'm never here!"
"Yes, because that's what it feels like!"
"Fine," she says finally, her voice lowering in volume just slightly. "Do you want me to be honest?"
Yes, finally.
"Yes!", dad says, looking as eager as I feel.
"I think you're overreacting about this whole thing!"
"Of course you do," he sighs in a defeated manner.
This is where I lose my cool and swiftly get up and walk past the pair of them as my mother begins to exhibit her wide range of distasteful swear words. I don't know if either of them pay attention to me as I walk out, and I honestly don't care either. All I care about is leaving, and I barely take the time to slip in my boots before slamming the front door behind me.
Jeez, it's cold out here and sure is raining cats and dogs. It really would have been in my best interest to have grabbed a jacket, but I was only set on getting away from my parents and their dispute.
I shiver slightly as I lean with my head against the door. The rain is kind of bothering me right now considering it's getting me reasonably wet, but at the same time I'm grateful for it; it's cooling down my face which is now sporting hot tears.
I never noticed that I started crying, but they're there on my face. Silent tears are making their way down effortlessly. Through the door, I can still hear my mother yelling almost perfectly. Screw this, screw this all. Aren't the holidays supposed to be the happiest time of the year?
"Anita?", a voice says from behind me suddenly, scaring me half to death.
I jump and turn around quickly, and never before have I been so excited to see someone in my life. Standing before me on the second step of my front stairs is Dylan, looking especially warm in multiple layers and a rain jacket, with concern written all over his face.
Inside I feel so elated to see him that for a second I wonder why he looks so worried. Then I realize that I must look like... well, someone to be concerned about; standing out in the rain in jeans and a t-shirt, significantly wet from rain with a tear-stained face. Oh jeez, now he's seen me cry.
He takes me in for a second before glancing at the door, no doubt hearing my mother's insanely loud curse words. Now he looks even more concerned.
"What are you doing here?", I ask weakly, wiping tears from my face with my forearm.
"I called you three times to see if I could come over...", his voice is so soft and careful, taking on an approach I've never before heard from him.
"Sorry," I sniff, my fingers beginning to nervously play with the ends of damp hair. "I was busy."
Dylan walks two steps up, getting closer as the yelling from inside somehow gains volume, "Are you okay?"
My fingers move faster and at his words I can feel myself breaking. I shake my head vigorously as several tears suddenly release themselves into the open. Suddenly I fall into him and he doesn't waste a moment wrapping his strong arms around me. Never has anyone held me so tightly and never has anyone made me feel so safely.
He pulls me closer to him as I bury my face into his chest and completely let go. I sob and sob because the frustration and tension and everything negative is finally being released.
My boyfriend pulls away from me and takes a step back after I've sobbed for probably five minutes. I look up at him in wonder and his face clearly shows he's being careful and protective while worried and pained.
His hands quickly unzip his black rain jacket. "Come here, love," he says quietly. As I take the step forward he assists in putting the jacket on me in a hurried manner, zipping it up in a smooth fashion. I instantly feel much warmer, and the lingering scent of Dylan wafts through my nose briefly.
He grasps my hand before pulling my entire body flush next to his as we venture down the few stairs. After unlocking his car, he ushers me into the backseat then climbs in right after me.
The doors lock again as I sit with my head laying limp against the cold leather seat, facing him. I'm not sobbing anymore but the tears currently show no intentions of ceasing.
The rain patters loudly against the car windows, the drops falling down them like a perfect replica of my face. My savior wipes the rain water from his flawless face with his sweatshirt sleeve before looking over at me from head to toe.
"Are you getting any warmer?", he asks in a tentative manner. "You look freezing."
I nod vaguely just before he takes one of my hands in his, "Jeez, you are freezing. Come here."
Pushing some of my wet hair behind my ear, I do as he asks and move across the leather towards him. There, he pulls me onto him and holds me in his arms that make everything feel okay for a minute. My previous tears of sorrow feel more like tears of frustration now. I'm so frustrated I could scream.
He strokes my hair as my head leans against his warm chest and the silent tears continue to fall. I'm a bit surprised at myself for how much I'm crying right now. But when I think about it, it's quite justifiable; my parent's marriage seems to be falling apart. A pain in my head surges at the thought as I squeeze my eyes shut, more tears coming.
Dylan's smooth, calm voice fills the air, "We can just stay here until you feel at least a little better."
Knowing my voice would be pathetically weak and broken if I spoke, I nod in confirmation at him. I'm not sure how long the two of us sit there with me crying and thinking and him soothing and hugging, but I could stay there forever.
Eventually, though, I pull myself together and take my face out of his now tear-damp hoodie and sit up entirely. I carefully wipe my face of any remaining tears while he watches me intently, his face less than a foot from my own.
I slip my now warm hands into his still warmer ones as he speaks again, "Are you alright?"
I nod and reply in a small voice, "Better."
"Do you feel up for talking?"
"Yes," I exhale deeply.
"I have my own guess on what this may be about, but I'd just like to hear everything from you."
"Well... I've told you before about how my mom has been M.I.A. for the past few months.. and how it's been causing some arguments?"
He nods, so I continue, "The arguments have been getting even worse, lately. Also more frequent, like, every other night. A majority of the time it's about my mom's whereabouts, or that's where they'll originate before they just shout back and forth about anything and everything. One of the things that makes me the angriest is the fact that it's all because my mom is gone all the time.
"She's hardly ever home, ever, and it drives my dad and I crazy but she doesn't understand that. She says we're overreacting. We just have no idea where she is or who with or why, and honestly nowadays it angers me more than anything else but I'm starting not to give a shit anymore."
I take a deep breath and run a hand through my hair before proceeding, "I guess above all else, it all scares me. I'm scared my mother is lying to us and I'm scared of what the truth is. I'm scared of how my father will react, I'm scared of them starting to hate each other instead of love each other like they're supposed to. I'm scared that my family is falling apart and I can't do a single thing to stop it."
For a second I think I may cry again but I just remind myself to breathe and squeeze my boyfriend's hands back tightly. My words hang in the air for a minute as he digests them, forming a coherent response before he speaks.
"I know what you're going through, Anita," he says. "I really do. At one point in my life the only thing my parents would do with one another was argue. All the time, and I never could figure out what had gone wrong. I started to worry about everything and even started resenting both of my parents for putting my brother and I through all of it.
"I know how frightening and scary it all is. Everything is confusing or depressing or frustrating or all three at once, and drives a person crazy. But listen to me, it isn't your fault. You said yourself that the source of the problem is your mother's absence, right? So it's not your job to fix anything.
"You will feel like you have to do everything in your power to help out and save the day l, and that's entirely okay. But you also have to understand that you can't. The only person who can is your mother, so maybe at some point you can talk to her about it or something. But please don't beat yourself up about it and I know it's difficult, but try not to let it get to you in this way.
"Never before has a tear-stained face been so beautiful, but I never want to see you cry again. Seriously, my heart shattered into a million pieces when you turned around and I saw you were crying. If you hear you parents arguing, listen to your music and not them. Distract yourself. Text me, call me, come to me wherever I am. Hell, I'd rather have you sitting on the floor in the kitchen at my work than to ever see or hear you cry again. Okay?"
He looks deep into my eyes with more sincerity and hopefulness than I've ever seen before. I nod vigorously before we hug again and I relax about a million times.
Speaking about my problems and being spoken to about them proved to be exactly what I needed. My boyfriend is literally perfection, and I don't know how I'll ever repay him for all that he's done for me.
"I'm sorry for coming out of nowhere and throwing all of this on you," I tell him with an apologetic look.
"Hey, don't apologize!", he returns quickly. "It's part of my job. If you couldn't come to me with this then I don't think we would even be considered friends. Let alone best friends."
I grin, despite everything that happened within the last hour, "You seriously are my best friend in the world, Dylan. How did I manage to get lucky enough to have you?"
He kisses my forehead with his soft, warm lips, "I ask myself the same thing every day."
~
I express my aggressive distaste on the thought of going back in my house, so the two of us decide to go to his house where I will, of course, stay the night.
I text my father the news so that he won't worry. My mother receives no text. Why should she know where I am if I don't know where she is? After a few minutes of silent driving, a question crosses my mind.
"Hey, babe?", I ask, turning towards him.
"Yeah?"
"Why were you coming over anyway?"
"So about that... I had this thing...", he trails off as he switches lanes.
"This thing...?"
"Well, now we're gonna have to wait until we get back to my place."
Interested, I raise my eyebrows, "What is it?"
"It's a thing. You'll see when we get there."
When we arrive at Chez O'Brien, his mother is home which I should have known but it slightly surprises me anyway. She greets us warmly with a smile but she looks confused and surprised at my presence.
Or, actually, after thought it's probably because of my physical appearance. Her son gives her some sort of look that keeps her from asking anything about it before we head upstairs to his bedroom.
I hand him his rain jacket before plopping on his bed and sitting on it cross-legged with a grin. Meanwhile Dylan is removing his many layers and putting them away neatly in his closet.
"So!", I say, clasping my hands together. "Are we gonna do the thing?"
For some reason he looks at his bed before looking at me, squinting his eyes. "Do the thing?", he repeats.
"Yeah! In the car you said that--"
"Oh!", he cuts across suddenly. "That thing, right..."
I laugh lightly, "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing! Now the thing..."
He shuts his closet door and puts his hands on his hips standing directly in front of me, "I have a Christmas present for you, but I wanted to give it to you early."
"What?! Why?!"
"Because! I want it to be on Christmas Eve!"
I furrow my brow, "It's only the twenty-second..."
"I know! Okay, it's not necessarily a tangible thing. I have to, like, present it to you right now."
"Dylan, I am so confused."
"Alright so I'm just gonna tell you; it's a date."
For some reason, that possibility hadn't crossed my mind, "A date?"
"Yes, on Christmas Eve, we are going. If you say yes, of course. That's why I have to like, present it to you now, see?"
I nod, "I get it, I get it. Well of course I say yes! Where are we going?"
"This is the main part of the presentation!", he says excitedly. "You have to try and guess, based on the clues I give you."
"Yay! Okay, okay, start!", I exclaim, his excitement rubbing off on me.
"Alright, think of movies."
"The movie theater?"
"No. Think of magic."
"...Harry Potter world?!"
"That's in Florida, no!", he looks thoughtful. "It's a place that you've only been to once before."
"Um...", I try to think of something but I come up blank. "I don't know."
"One time you spent like, twenty minutes telling me how badly you want to go there again."
"That could honestly be a few places."
"The only other time you went there, I think you were... six? Maybe five."
"Central Park Zoo?!"
"Anita, are you serious!?"
"I'm sorry, this is hard!"
"Okay, okay," he leans over and puts his hands on my shoulders. "You make me the happiest person in the world. So I want to take you to the happiest place in the world."
"...But we're in your bedroom right now."
"Anita!"
I giggle, but then it hits me, "Wait a minute..."
He looks excited and expectant, "Did you figure it out?"
"I have a guess and it makes complete sense but I don't know..."
"Tell me what your guess is!"
"Disneyland?"
He grins from ear to ear, "It's Disneyland."
I sit in a stunned silence for a second, "We're going to Disneyland?"
"I'm taking you on a date to Disneyland, Anita."
Then a sudden and massive wave of excitement and happiness consumes me as I stand up right in front of him, a huge smile across my face, "You're taking me to Disneyland?!"
"Yes!", he laughs, taking my hands in his.
A high-pitched squeal of excitement escapes me as I let go of his hands and engulf him in a hug. I pull away and smile broadly up at him which causes him to laugh before I hook my hands around his neck and kiss him deeply.
"You are the best person in the entire world," I tell him, and for a second I feel myself on the verge of tears, but happy ones.
He smiles back at me and pulls me into him again before speaking, "Okay, well you've had a long day. I think we need to get you out of your wet clothes."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, I would. Because then you won't get me or my bed wet. And you won't catch a cold."
I laugh, "Just give me some clothes."
As he rummages through his messy drawer, he brings up a fair point I've never really thought of before, "You know, you should really just bring some clothes over to keep here."
"Really?"
He stands straight and looks over at me, "Yeah. It's not like I'm asking you to move in, though you may as well for how often you're over."
"I get the point. I guess it never really crossed my mind but yeah, I should."
Think of the most comfortable surface you've ever slept on. Maybe it was a bed, or a couch or in a car, but just imagine it. Now imagine it feeling twice as comfy, thrice as safe, four times as peaceful and with your favorite person in the world right next to you. That's where I'm laying right now and I could not be any happier.
Dylan and I lay under his gigantic comforter in the most intimate cuddling position we've ever been in, for the first time. Spooning. I now understand all the hype about it. His arms wrap around my midsection and my hands rest on top of his.
I can feel his soft, warm breath on the back of my neck as I stare out towards the windows. The harsh rain still strikes the windows nonstop, but I like the sound of it. Our surroundings are entirely dark though the faintest blue light spills onto the carpet through the curtains on his window.
"The sound of rain is so calming," I comment quietly.
"Make you homesick, foreign girl?"
"It reminds me of home, but it doesn't make me miss it."
"I know what you mean though, it is a pretty soothing sound," he agrees.
"I like the way rain smells, too."
"You know, when you think you're smelling rain, what you're actually smelling is either Ozone or Petrichor, or both."
"...What?"
"Mostly Petrichor. When decomposed, organic material is blown airborne from dry soil, it lands on dirt and rocks where its joined by minerals. Then that whole mixture is cooked into this magical medley of molecules.
"The falling raindrops then send those chemicals airborne into the air, and eventually into your nostrils. That's what Petrichor is. Also there's a chemical called Geosmin that contributes to Petrichor, but that's a whole other thing. So yeah. You're smelling Petrichor."
What. Why is he such a genius, I mean how does he even know this stuff? I was able to follow along pretty well, but at the same time I was more amazed at the fact that he even knew any of what he was saying. It's crazy.
"You're hot when you talk Science to me."
"Glad you think intelligence is attractive."
"Of course," I say. "I wouldn't have been remotely interested if you were an idiot."
"Why, thank you."
"Okay, well that's a little bit of a lie because even if you were stupid you're still really hot so you still could've had a chance, maybe."
"You really think I'm hot?", his grip around me tightens.
"What the-- Yes!", I say wildly. "I've told you that before!"
"I always thought you were joking!"
"Well I wasn't! Why is it so surprising that I think you're hot?"
"I don't know, I never thought of myself as a hot person."
I turn my head to look up at him, "Seriously? Babe, have you ever looked in a mirror?"
He simply laughs.
"I'm serious!", I say, turning my entire body towards his. "At a restaurant, you would be one of the dishes with the pepper next to it to warn people how hot it is. On the HSPE grading scale, you are a four: above average. If you were any type of pocket, you would be a Hot Pocket. You know what? I think people stay away from you at school because you're too hot and they don't wanna get a sunburn."
"I get it, Anita!", he laughs for a while and I smile back at him.
He kisses my nose, "You're funny."
"You know what else I am?"
"Beautiful?"
"Thank you, but besides that."
"Perfect?"
"Besides that!"
"My favorite person?"
"Dylan!", I laugh.
"Sorry," he chuckles. "What are you?"
"Tired!"
"Right, I should have guessed that. Sleepy time!"
"Mhm, sleepy time. Goodnight, Dylan. Thank you for everything today. Really."
His lips meet mine softly, "You're more than welcome. Goodnight, baby."
~
A/N:
Well, thanks to the wonderful feedback I got in terms of the length of my chapters, I shall continue in their current length.
When I started writing this chapter I had no idea this was how it would turn out. But I'm happy with the way it did! Hopefully y'all do too.
Yesterday was the bae's birthday! T__T ♥ Stayed up til 3am watching season 3b of Teen Wolf, oops. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this! (: