"No."
"But ma'am-!"
"'Butts' are for sitting on, Mr. Forrester. Now, please, get to work." The woman's voice was strained, notably different from her usual smooth tone. Yet, despite the tiredness, the razor edge still cut through more than ever. Suppressing a sigh, the poor man could only proceed as told, for Isabel's voice invoked fear in all.
Isabel had been getting these nerve-racking requests all day. The dumb pigs all seemed to think that if they asked individually, she would grant them the day off. All this, when this morning at precisely 8:01, the renowned Kabra had sweetly announced, "As rumors suggest, we will not be having a Christmas Break this year. I have checked the records and Future Hope has fallen in profit. So, please, get to work, you lazy slugs. Happy holidays!"
After all her effort, the incompetent fools still had the stupidity to come and ask her again!
Knock knock.
"What?" Isabel barked sharply.
A timid mouse of a man entered, hesitantly shutting the door behind him. "Uh... Mrs. Kabra, ma'am... I was wondering, if, uh, you could possibly give me a day off tomorrow? For Christmas, you see. I know you announced this morning that we would be working for the entire week but my family's expecting to spend the day together so, ah, Mrs. Kabra?"
"Of course not, you blubbering fool! Did none of you hear the bloody message this morning? Were you all sleeping on the job again?"
"No, no! Of course not! But Mrs. Kabra-"
"You have no idea how many times I've had to hear that today! I never celebrated Christmas as a child, and I came out just brilliant, didn't I?" Isabel raged, finally losing her firm control. "I don't see why you lazy fools must celebrate the cursed holiday! Everyone's getting lazier now that it's the holidays! What a waste of time and money!"
The man's face transformed; Isabel, looking at the man for the first time, saw excited and sympathetic eyes gazing out at her underneath bushy eyebrows. "Oh! Oh! Mrs. Kabra, ma'am! No wonder you're such a pig! Boy, you've missed out! This explains everything!" The man paused to take a deep breath.
Isabel's right eyebrow twitched. Her freshly manicured fingers curled into fists. She seemed to loom even higher above the poor man. "What did you just call me?"
"... I- oh. Sorry. Right sorry, ma'am. I- I just realized that- No Christmas, you know? I thought..." The man's whiskers twitched in anticipation.
"Never walk through these doors again, Mr. Robertson." The woman's voice was barely above a whisper, and yet it transferred even more deadly poison than when she was yelling.
Robertson shivered in his puffy winter coat and wondered how someone who reeks so strongly of wrong can be the chairwoman of a foundation for orphans. "R-right ma'am. Sorry. But- and I probably shouldn't advise you or anything- you should try, just once to enjoy the holidays." The man looked forlorn. "You don't know what you're missing."
As the door closed, Isabel scoffed. Idiotic man. As if she didn't know about Christmas! Even so, the conversation pulled up almost invisible threads of memories. The parts of the past that Isabel had tried oh-so-hard to forget.
"Mummy! Tomorrow's the last day of school til' the break!" four year old Isabel yelled as she raced towards the Red Parlor.
"Isabel, how many times must I tell you- no screaming! This is very unlike you." Isabel's mother sat on a red seat- back straight, long legs crossed properly, primly working on her embroidery, an air of calm around her. There was not a single settee in the room- 'We are individuals, are we not? We must not depend on others, even when sitting.'
"Yes, mum. Sorry, mum." Isabel primly folded herself into an nearby armchair and tried to imitate her as best she can. Even so, her polished black Mary-Jane's hung like a forgotten rag off the patterned chair, not even close to the tiled floor, and her quivering demeanor of excitement could be sensed from a mile away.
Across the room, Isabel's mother eyed her, "Much better. Mind that you don't forget again."
"Yes, mum." The girl sat there, fidgeting, waiting for her mother to ask about the upcoming holiday.
Their family had never celebrated Christmas. At least not the way that others did. The Vesper-Hollingsworth's had always celebrated with perhaps a fancier dinner than normal and occasionally a ball. Sometimes, they even had a brightly decorated tree soaring above. But the meal was eaten mutely aside from the polite chatter of guests, the ball an apparition of cheer, and the tree sitting like a frozen marble statue in the front hall.
After the winter vacations, Isabel's friends came to play-dates armed with tales of splendor- of families laughing by the roaring fire, of the giving and receiving of presents, of the decorating of Christmas trees together. There were always a few mishaps- a fallen tree, a tipped cup- but in the end, all was well, just like in story books.
Through these tales, Isabel always sat to the side, listening. When a friend asked her about her Christmas, she would vaguely state, "Oh, it was fun" or "We had a nice time" and hurry away before the said friend could probe for more. Isabel wondered if she would ever get experience something so wondrous.
Mother and daughter sit there- and sit, and sit, and sit. Isabel fancies that she can hear her own breathing, and even a slight scraping downstairs from the maid. Finally, the young girl can wait no more.
"Our class is going to have a party tomorrow. There's going to be food, games, and gifts! We might even go outside to build a snowman and go skating! And then we're going to write letters to Santa! Oh- I'm so excited!" Isabel is practically wiggling in her over-sized seat as she tries the best she can to express her joy of her first 'real' Christmas.
Isabel's mother remained silent, and Isabel almost thinks she didn't hear her.
"Is that what we're paying that private school for? Games and rubbish? I cannot believe after all that trouble I went through to find a decent school, this one still dares to fail me. Letters to Santa! Ha!" The woman's laugh was a cruel one, slicing through Isabel's cheer. " What stupidity! You will immediately cease to attend that horrid place, Isabel."
"W-what about tomorrow?"
"Don't stutter, you clumsy child. You will not attend tomorrow. Don't make such a fuss, Isabel! What good is there in food and games? You have all that you could possibly want here at home."
Isabel ducked her head and turned a bit to the side to hide behind her mass of chestnut curls. She could not let Mother see the glittering tears sliding down her reddened cheeks. "B-but Mum-!"
"What did I say, child? Speak clearly. You sound like a blubbering fool. And 'butts' are for sitting on. I dare say, what has gotten into you, Isabel? You are usually so obedient. Is must be that curst school."
"Mum, please! May I attend tomorrow? Just tomorrow? Please?"
"Isabel! Stop this at once! Do not beg. We are not beggars. Now, go to your room and calm down. I hope you will have stopped this behavior when I see you again. We shall not speak of this again. Ever. You are dismissed." Her tone was final.
And so, Isabel's dreams came crashing down on her, like an avalanche of snow on a caterpillar in metamorphosis, leaving her glaciated before she could transform.
Isabel shook her head to clear these thoughts. Mum had meant the best. Right?
It was wintertime once again, and a thick blanket of snow snugly tucked everything in sight under its bright layers. Isabel walked out of her private university, hand in hand with a young man. Both were equipped with woolen mittens, warm scarves, waterproof boots, and comfy coats.
A lock of the youth's brown hair escaped his hood, and as he pushed it back into its warm confines, Isabel noted his handsome features. The broad nose, tilted chin, warm chocolate brown eyes. Around him, Isabel could be herself, didn't have to be judged and stared at, like a creature in a cage.
"You excited, Belle?" the young man asked.
"Why do you insist on calling me that?" Isabel grumbled good-naturedly. "Of course I'm excited, you dim-wit! It's my first Christmas!"
"I still can't believe how you survived in such a cold family, Belle. I'm glad you're not like them. I have so much to show you! You sure missed out."
The couple trudged onward, surrounded by billowing petals of white flowers descending from heaven. Suddenly, an icy thud landed on the back of Isabel's jacket. "Edward!"
"Lesson one: snowball fights!"
Despite Isabel's vow to ignore the nearly invisible bullets, the thuds became too great, and Isabel could only join the fray.
Eventually, laughing, the couple arrived at a log cabin, like those in storybooks.
"Wow," gasped Isabel, an unthrown snowball nestling in her mitts forgotten.
"Sorry if it's too shabby. You're probably used to better. You sure your family won't mind?"
"No. It's perfect. Mum won't mind. I'm not expected til' tomorrow night." Isabel barely heard Edwards voice as he described the cabin and its humble rooms.
And hence, Isabel experienced her first Christmas. All her visions and dreams became the living truth before her very eyes. It's the best day of my life, Isabel decided. It's too good to be true! But it is true.
By the next morning, Isabel had learned how to make hot cocoa, how to decorate a tree, and the basics for a holiday meal. In the middle of breakfast, though, and unwelcome intrusion came upon them.
Knock knock.
A slight frown appeared on Edward's brow as he ambled towards the door and pulled it open. "Jolee? What are you doing here?"
"To visit, of course. What, you can't let your own girlfriend in?" Each word resonated on the walls of the tiny wooden structure.
Isabel froze in the middle of pouring hot chocolate. Edward hurriedly turned toward Isabel, slamming the door behind him before Jolee could enter, and she could now see the guilt and pleading written all over his becoming face.
"Belle. I can explain."
"That's what they all say." Isabel's voice now matched the icicles of the world outside, a world that seemed to have just disappeared. "You have one minute," the young woman said, leaving to get her boots.
"I met Jolee at the start of this year. A bit before you. I couldn't decide which one I loved more, and I couldn't let both of you go! Please Belle! You have to understand! Remember that time I took you on your first trip to Starbucks? And that time at the movies? Everything I said was true- every single thing! Belle!"
Isabel glared at Edward, while he helplessly looked back; both were ignorant of impatient banging on the door. "So what you're saying is that you're a lying, two-timing jerk," Isabel stated. She paused. "I loved you, you know. I gave you my heart." The cold declaration was a whisper, more to herself than to Edward.
"I know."
She was more hurt than surprised. It explained all the hurried goodbyes, the false excuses. He expected Isabel to be dumb enough to go along with everything! All this time, though, Isabel had known. But she couldn't bring herself to tell him off- he was the first person to care, to spend time with her, to get to know her, to understand her. She had desperately ignored the facts, hoping that they were wrong. I will never be this ignorant again, Isabel swore. I will never care for someone again.
After a moment of silence, Isabel looked up from lacing her boots. "Have you decided?"
"Decided what?"
"Who you love more."
"...You- Jolee- I can't decide! I love you both, Belle! Don't leave! Please!"
Ignoring Edward's pleading, Isabel strode out the cabin door, slamming it behind her. Chunks of fluffy white snow fell to the ground with a thud. "Good luck," she called to a stunned Jolee. Isabel walked on, not realizing she had left something behind. Her heart.
Isabel's dreams once again shattered around her. To this day, her heart has not returned. She did not celebrate Christmas again.
Frowning, Isabel turned to leave her office. Forget, she told herself, forget. He's nothing but a lying jerk. Darn holidays.
She stepped into the world of ivory outside, beautiful and soft on the outside, yet profoundly bitter and severe if you fell into it. Deep in thought, Isabel did not notice a auburn-haired man coming straight towards her, holding bundles of bright parcels.
Ompf.
"Oh! Sorry, Miss. Sorry!"
"Watch where you're going!"
Isabel impatiently picked up her spilled papers, prepared to scold the clumsy man again. Why isn't he helping me pick up my things?
"...Belle?"
Isabel froze. Slowly, she looked up to better see the man's face. "Edward." Just my luck.
The years had been kind to him. The auburn locks were still lush, features still chiseled. He had grown taller, and Isabel, even with her heels, had to look up to him.
"So..." Edward intoned, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, "Fancy seeing you here. Especially this time of year. Well, how have you been? Got a family and all? You're still as pulchritudinous as you were before."
"No thanks to you."
Ignoring the taunt, Edward continued. "I, myself, have two kids and a wife. Not bad, huh?" He grinned his lopsided grin, exactly the same, as it was so long ago. "Turns out neither you nor Jolee were 'the one'. I'm- I'm really sorry about that, Belle. If I could...," he trailed off, lost in memories. "If I could, I would do anything to change it. You know that, right?"
Isabel stood in the snow, her crimson coat clashing with the pure whiteness of the snow like a drop of blood. "I have to go, if you'll excuse me, Edward."
"No! Wait- Belle!"
Isabel walked on.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Belle." Edward's voice was barely a whisper against the whir of the wind and falling snowflakes, but whether by fate or by luck, Isabel heard his plea. Her back stiffened, but she walked on. Just like she had done years ago.
She walked on, still forgetting to reclaim what she had abandoned all those years ago. But, perhaps, in just a little corner, the faintest of throbs could be heard.
A/N: A bit late for Christmas...
Anyway, please review! CC is appreciated!
Merry belated Christmas and a Happy early New Year! :)