"I don't quite understand the joy you find in Christmas when consider all of the negatives to celebrating the holiday."
"Ah! Christmas is here Bones! Don't be the Grinch!"
"That is the second time someone has called me that."
"God. You know what never mind."
"Alright. Oh there they are!"
"Hey look it's the squint squad!" Everyone laughs and takes their place around their table. They all order beers except for Cam who orders a glass of wine and Angela who gets a diet coke. The Founding Fathers is bustling with men and women who circle each other with skirting glances, like they are each others prey.
The glass doors at the front open and in walks an average height, blond, curly haired woman with a bag like mine strapped over her shoulder. A few men turn their heads in the direction of the door as she starts striding over to our table and then to Booth. He kisses her gently on the lips and they both smile devilishly. My stomach is now clenching with the dull ache spreading throughout my chest. I understand why people are prone to believing the heart is where your feelings stem from. Because this is almost unbearably painful. The next hour goes on without me. I fake a smile every once in a while to be conspicuous and it works. Barely following their conversation, I hear them talking about their Christmas plans because it is one day before Christmas. And on the Christmas Eve I hear that all of my friends will be vacationing with family. I have nowhere to be. With my father back in Maui like he should have been, and Russ on parole, I will be in limbo it seems. As people from our group begin to file out, I reach the end of my beer. I clear out of my daze and listen to Booth and Hannah rant about how fun their visit to Pops will be and his amazing grilled cheeses. I survey my surroundings and notice that only us three remain at our group table. And as they say their goodbyes due to having a plane to catch, and walk out the door, I see the glasses of my friends and family are the only things that remain, only to be cleared by a table clearer dressed as Santa Claus. My hand slaps the table paying my portion of the bill and I step outside and summon a taxi that I have sat in time and time again, long enough to know the cab's number is 5260. This time when I look at the restaurant behind me decorated with beautiful flickering lights, there is no one waiting for me. I allow the cabbie to drive the long way because of the holiday. I sit in silence and think back to the day that Booth and I decided to stay, and to Angela and I's conversation about our lives.
'I'm the only one living the life they expected to live.'
I realize that I was right in that instance. Because driving in a cab to work at 7:30 PM on Christmas Eve while the man I am attracted to is off with his girlfriend about to go on vacation, is exactly what I expected to live like. My Dad left and my brother is still on parole, and is to lazy to attempt to inform his officer that he would like to visit me for the holidays. The droplets on the window formed by the melted snow glimmer in various different colors, portraying the bright Christmas lights behind it. The tires slide on the slick, icy ground, and the wet brakes screech when the cab driver slams on the brakes. The car lurches forward throwing my head into the headrest in front of me. My mind flashes with Angela's spiteful words:
'You are going to die loveless and alone."
The driver apologizes and I forgive him, rubbing my forehead. There is something inside of me that crushes my heart. Even though I know it is just brain chemicals causing the aching feeling in my chest, my hand raises to my heart. I want to leave this city. I want to get away from all the metaphorical pain, but l can't leave them. Or him. It isn't logical to leave the people I care about, the people I'd give my life for on any given day. I feel as if everyone has left though. Again, not logical, but besides tonight, no one really gets together for a drink at the Founding Fathers. The center didn't hold, so here I metaphorically stand, still by Booth, but not seen by him, unless strictly necessary. But it's okay. My world is still right side up. I know he doesn't look at me the way he used to. Not that I can decipher precisely what that look means. I don't believe that you can show emotion through your eyes. Somehow he doesn't seem b the same to me. I will always be there for him, to protect him. Like I said, he is the one that needs protecting, not me. I have built my walls up higher and stronger than anyone could have imagined now. But somehow Booth has a wrecking ball that is capable of making them a pile of pebbles. He doesn't use his tool anymore though. It sits in the corner of his mind, slowly, metaphorically gathering dust.
I walk into the dark lab and flick on the bright light and stroll in the lighted hallway that display the bones of people unidentified. Used to the quietness, the emptiness of the lab when everyone is out celebrating, I buckle down and work.