Christmas Eve in Charleston
Lourdes sat alone in one of the empty rooms at the outskirts of the Charleston base. Although she had a dorm room she shared with a couple of other young women who'd been at the base before the Second Mass had arrived, she preferred the peace and quiet away from the central base, where all sorts of activity was going on at all hours of the day and night.
She had a small fire going in the makeshift fireplace, one she'd managed to vent through a small hole in the ceiling that led outside of the compound. She wrapped her blanket tighter around herself, took a sip from her mug of lukewarm cocoa. It was good, though it would have been better if it was warmer. Still, it was the best Anne had been able to conjure up for her from limited resources, and lukewarm was better than cold, or none.
She gazed around the room, from the small stocking Matt had made for her hanging from the mantle of her fireplace, to the trio of handmade Christmas cards she'd received (from Anne and Tom, from Matt and Ben, and from one of her dozens of patients). It was the best she could ask for, at this time of year. There had been no alien attacks for the past week, almost as if they knew it was the holiday and they were giving them a break for Christmas.
The only thing missing was someone to spend Christmas Eve with.
A few months back, she'd briefly hoped to spend Christmas with Jamil, but he had been gone for almost as long as she'd known him, for longer than they'd dated. There was still a hole in her heart, though it was slowly healing, but at a time like this, when she was alone, she missed him more than ever.
It wasn't that Anne hadn't invited her to join her and the Masons, but she didn't feel up to dealing with a group tonight, and she had declined her offer.
"I brought the marshmallows."
Lourdes jumped. She hadn't heard anyone approaching. She knew who it was without looking, but she turned to look anyway.
Hal Mason stood in the doorway, holding out a half-full bag of large marshmallows. A sheepish grin lit his face in the dim firelight. Lourdes couldn't help but smile back. It had been a while since they'd spent any time together.
"I thought you could use some company," he said, walking over and settling himself near Lourdes' seat. "I snagged these from the kitchen on my way, though I couldn't find anything better for roasting them." He held up a small metal fork.
"You'll burn yourself," she told him, laughing.
He laughed as well. "Then I'll just have to work fast." He dug out a marshmallow and stuck it on the end of the fork, and then he crawled closer to the fire and stuck the marshmallow in the flames.
"You'll burn it," Lourdes said.
"Burnt marshmallows are the best," Hal answered, pulling his now flaming marshmallow out of the fire. The shell of the marshmallow was completely black before Hal blew out the flames. He pulled the marshmallow off the fork and stuffed it into his mouth, almost spitting it out because he'd forgotten how hot it would be.
Lourdes bit back a laugh. "My turn," she said, shrugging free from her blanket and holding her hand out for the fork. Hal passed it over, and then he stuck a marshmallow on the tines. Lourdes stuck the fork into the corner of the fireplace, near the heat but out of the flames.
"That'll take you a half-hour to cook," Hal said, his mouth still half-full of marshmallow. He swallowed the rest of it.
"At least it won't be charcoal flavored," she answered, grinning at him. She jumped when a marshmallow hit her in the arm, but she managed to hold onto the fork. "Hey!" She looked back over to see him stuffing an uncooked marshmallow into his mouth. Shaking her head, she switched the fork to her left hand, and then she picked up the marshmallow he'd thrown and tossed it back at him, hitting him in the forehead.
Before she knew what was happening, she was bombarded by another marshmallow. And then another, and another. She dropped the fork, her melting snack forgotten, as she chased after ammunition as Hal kept throwing more marshmallows at her. Every time she'd find one, she'd fire back and miss by a mile, only to be hit by another as soon as she turned around.
"We're out of marshmallows," Hal, sounding a bit sad, said a couple minutes later.
Lourdes, still gathering what now-dusty marshmallows she could find, returned to the fire with a handful. They weren't edible any more, but they were still good for weapons. She threw them at Hal, hitting him with a couple and earning a big grin. She sat back down by the fire, no longer cold enough to need a blanket, and picked up her ruined marshmallow. She put the fork aside.
Hal, watching Lourdes' eyes crinkle in the firelight, smiled back, glad to see a little bit of joy lighting her features. It had been quite a while since he'd seen her having fun of any sort, especially since Jamil's death. Her smile and her laughter were presents all in themselves.
"Merry Christmas, Lourdes," Hal said. After she returned the sentiment, he launched into a story about the time his father had almost burned their house down because he had so many lights on the tree. They spent the rest of the evening swapping stories of Christmasses past.