FIFTY-THREE

"It looks like it'll be rain again," she sighs, glancing at the cloudy sky. "No snow…."

"D-do y-you want it to s-now, M-Mrs. Maria?" Elfnein asks, swinging their hands—which she's sure is completely subconscious, but it makes her smile nonetheless.

"Mhm," she replies, and admits with a touch of nostalgia, "I'm actually fond of the idea of a 'white Christmas,' you see. There's something… well, I've retained a sense of childhood awe about it. It snowed a lot on the very first Christmas I celebrated."

Well, her awe hadn't exactly been because of the holiday atmosphere.

It had been a Christmas Eve spent with snow gathering on Mom's umbrella instead of their bare heads as they waited amongst the congregation for the midnight Mass. She had clutched at Serena's hand and found warm wool instead of chafed, frozen skin.

And Christmas morning had found their limbs moving with ease, warm even after an entire night's worth of snowfall. That is the sense of awe she retains long after leaving Warsaw.

"Papa only liked the presents part of Christmas," Elfnein says, her hand coming to a stop and her head turning away, towards the shops. "Papa didn't believe in religion."

"We don't have to exchange gifts or celebrate if you don't want to. Neither Tsubasa or I would mind," she murmurs in return, also looking at the bright Christmas lights decorating the candle shop. She knows how overwhelming it can be, having to adjust to new people and new habits.

Elfnein turns, frowning at her and asking, "B-but… y-you s-said…?"

She shakes her head, mustering up a faint smile.

When she thinks of Christmas, inevitably she has this progression of thoughts: first, the relief and wonder at having a roof over their heads and heat seeping into their bones. Second, the light and sound spilling out of the local church, whose doors had been barred to them before that point.

And lastly, the meager gifts—laughable, honestly, in hindsight—that they had given each other and given Mom.

She inhales deeply, her nose reddening from the chilly air.

"It's..."

The priest had droned on in Latin that she couldn't understand, but an old man next to them whispered translations the entire time; it's his hoarse voice and the flickering candles that she remembers best of that Mass, instead of the words themselves.

(She has to push away the bitter thought that words had never held any importance to her, because now's not the time for it.)

"The rituals are there to give structure—to guide you along the way," she says. Gesturing to the town's Christmas tree that they can see jutting over houses up ahead, she elaborates, "It's not that I'm really attached to what Tsubasa and I usually do for Christmas, or to what Christmas used to be like when I was younger.

"What matters to me is that the holiday is a day set aside for the exclusive purpose of being with family."

Elfnein looks pensive at that, but she seems not to want to discuss it further, so Maria lets the matter drop without anything more said.

She guides them down a side street, to the bakery from where Tsubasa likes to order all their holiday pastries.

Today's not really the day for seriousness, after all, and some sugar will do wonders for cheering them both up.

Just before they reach their destination, however, Elfnein declares, "M-Mrs. Maria… I-I w-want to c-celebrate C-Christmas w-with y-you a-a-and M-Mrs. Tsubasa!"

Call her sentimental, but Elfnein's earnest wish makes her tear up almost immediately and she has to restrain herself from hugging the life out of Elfnein.

"I'm so glad," she says instead, briefly squeezing Elfnein's hand. "But are you sure, Elfnein? We really don't have to if you don't want to."

Elfnein gazes up at her with a serious gaze, her chubby face almost comically adamant as she affirms, "Yes."

And then she really starts crying, which startles Elfnein.

Oops.


a/n:

I am laughing at myself because I'm writing about winter an entire season late. Oh well.

Please review!