Christmas, Christmas, Christmas! It's Christmastime! Thanksgiving is over, and now it's Christmas season!
I remember it was different when I was a little girl. But I think that's true for most kids. Christmas felt different when you were little and still believed in Santa.
I remember the Christmas my mom died was this weird…I dunno. It was just…weird. Like, she'd been there, for Thanksgiving. And then suddenly she wasn't, for Christmas.
And, like, what were we supposed to do with the gifts we'd gotten her?
And…it was like Christmas had sort of…died. With her.
Since then, what I do for Christmas is read.
I mean, I would read before then, too. When I was little, my sisters used to read me The Night Before Christmas and How the Grinch Stole Christmas! Then, The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, followed by all of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books. I would read them myself, when I got older. I loved reading what the Ingalls girls got for Christmas, even if it was only a stick of candy. My favorite was On the Banks of Plum Creek, when Laura and her sisters got presents off the tree at church.
When I was ten, my teacher gave me Little Women, and two years later, I found Dickens' A Christmas Carol. Laura and the March girls and Ebeneezer Scrooge, that's who I spend Christmas with.
So I asked Adrian if he could get me these books. "We could read them aloud together," I said, "get in the holiday spirit."
"That's all you want to do for Christmas? READ?" he teased.
"I like reading, and we're stuck in the house anyway," I said before I realized. I was sorry I'd said it. "And I LIKE READING," I repeated, hoping that if I glossed over it quick enough it might be forgotten. "Don't you have any holiday traditions?"
"Sure," he said, and he seemed…amused. "I like watching It's a Wonderful Life as much as the next person."
"I do that too," I said. "Let's definitely watch that."
He nodded, chuckling. "Definitely." Was he making fun of me? "But isn't there anything else you want to do? I have sort of an unlimited budget, thanks to my dad's guilty conscience. And I really want to make Christmas nice for you." He kinda swallowed, and then said, "For us."
Oh.
I thought about it, all the things other people had done in songs and movies that I wished I could do. Riding in a one-horse open sleigh sounded like a bit much to ask, so I said, "We could make cookies, maybe even a gingerbread house. I bet Magda could help us with that. And…we could get a tree."
Oh, a tree. I really wanted a tree. I hadn't had a tree since I was little, and I always saw them in people's windows, especially near school, all decorated with lights and stars on top. And I was a New Yorker, too. I liked Christmas in New York things as much as the next schmaltzy tourist. The Rockerfeller Center and the department store show windows.
I knew exactly the kind of tree I wanted, too. With lots of different little ornaments, each with, like, its own special meaning…the kind of tree I would have with a family of my own, one day.
Adrian smiled, then, and I realized he'd planned this. "We have a winner. I'm way ahead of you."
And he gestured grandly out toward the greenhouse.
Oh.
Oh, my.
A pine tree was there, taking up space in the greenhouse like it owned the joint. A live one. In a pot. So tall, it almost scraped the ceiling.
"I wanted a real one," Adrian was explaining, watching as I walked toward it, and around it, inspecting the pine needles and just…breathing it in. "A live one that wouldn't have to die, ever. If you want it in the living room, we could probably move it out. I thought the light was better here."
Pine and roses. What a gorgeous scent. "It's beautiful. Did…you get the decorations, too?" I kind of hoped he hadn't I wanted to help choose them.
He shook his head, and I couldn't help but grin. "Nah. I wanted you to pick. White lights, or colored? Glass balls, or little toys, and stuff? A star at the top, or an angel?"
"Oh, an angel," I said dreamily. "With blonde hair, like my mother." But then I realized I should ask what he liked, too. "What…did you used to have? With your father?"
He shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. "We haven't had a tree since my mother left."
Of course, he hadn't. I'd said it already, before. We were two halves of a whole. An oyster shell hiding the grey gunk inside.
So we decided to choose together. The Internet is awesome. We chose it, and then Magda went and picked it up, so we wouldn't have to wait for it to be delivered. Then the four of us decorated together, like a real family, singing Christmas carols and having hot chocolate. Magda made a special soup from her country, and maybe it was better than most real families.
We had chosen white lights. Adrian and I had agreed we wanted them to look like stars, and so he made them blink and twinkle, and then, when we were finished, we all just stared up at the tree, silhouetted against the sky.
"It's beautiful. The beauty, it brings tears to my eyes," Will deadpanned, giving a big, fake sniff. (Will had totally helped with the lights, because he said he could still see lights, sometimes.)
We all laughed, and then I noticed the snow falling outside.
It was…it was beautiful. It still is beautiful, when I look at it.
Adrian declared a hiatus from studying; Will had insisted we were still on break for the holidays, but Adrian and I had still be studying intermittently. But I was happy to agree to the break if it meant we got to do more holiday stuff. I just…it's like a switch was flipped, in me, and I just decided to have fun. It's freaking Christas, and I'm young. I don't often feel young, but…I just…decided not to worry, anymore. No worrying about the future, or hurting Adrian's feelings, or when I'll eventually have to leave him and move on with my life. No thinking of my dad, or how rehab was going (or not going.) I fucking deserve it. Even if I know this can't last forever, and even if I feel it might be coming to an end soon…I at least have it now.
So we did Christmas activities. We made a gingerbread house. Adrian wanted to go all complicated, at first, and make a gingerbread brownstone, but I thought it might be too hard.
"No no no, sir, this is our first time. We make a regular house. Then, maybe next year, if you're good, we can do something more advanced."
He looked at me, surprised. "Will…you still be here? Next year?"
Oh. Had I really said that? "Do you want me to be here next year?" I asked. Because I had thought…well, maybe they hadn't planned on me staying so long. Will had said, at the beginning of all this, "Live here a year." Implying that I could, or would, leave after that.
Adrian met my eyes with an intensity I'd never seen before. And then…looked down. "I want you to stay forever, Lindy, but I want you to be happy."
It was such an Adrian answer.
"I am happy," I told him, and I did mean it. But…would I always be happy? Can I just…be happy? Here alone with Adrian? No school, no college, no life? Was it enough for me…forever? No. Of course not.
But we just decided not to worry about that. Not to think about it. It's Christmas. I was happy. Am happy, now. And I want Adrian to be happy, too. Sadness could come later. Separation could come later.
"So, a regular gingerbread house, but we need a lot of candy," I said then, changing the subject.
"Yes. A lot," Adrian agreed seriously. "In fact, I was thinking you could do most of the baking, and I could actually be in charge of candy."
"Oh, you think so?" I asked in mock seriousness.
"I do. You're already sweet enough."
Oh, God. Adrian.
We also watched a bunch of hokey Christmas movies. Specifically, we watched Elf, A Christmas Story, Home Alone, A Christmas Carol (the one with Patrick Stewart, but also the one with Mickey Mouse and the one with Muppets), Scrooged, and of course, It's a Wonderful Life.
"Did you know, it wasn't even really meant to be a Christmas movie?" I told him, after we'd finished it. "It just happened to take place at Christmas, and it was one of those movies that was way more famous after it had already been released from theaters? So stations got the rights to it, and started playing it in loops around Christmastime, because it was cheap, and black and white, and all. And it just…became this Christmas cult classic."
"It's great," Adrian said. "Like…wow."
"You said you'd seen it before," I reminded him, smirking.
"Well, I had. Once. When I was twelve. But…I get it more, now. It makes me wonder how the world would be different if I'd never been born."
I thought about that. Adrian was always saying things that made me ponder. Welp, my dad would be dead. Probably many, many times over, in fact. It was kind of depressing, and made me feel more than a little guilty that I was…living so much, and so fully, without even giving him a passing thought, most days. Was it selfish of me? I wondered where he was, if he was okay. Stupid. He probably hadn't thought about me once.
"We should do something for someone," Adrian declared.
"There were kids—my neighbors, in my building, the Lesters. I bought toys for them, last year. Their mom…had a hard time dealing with stuff, and I knew she wouldn't be able to afford presents," I told him, and he frowned at me.
"Could you afford presents?"
"Not really good ones. Just…small things. Cars and teddy bears. I left them on the doorstep. It was just what I could save from my paycheck, after paying rent, and stuff. And the extra I got from tutoring."
"Well, money's not an issue," Adrian said, and I had kind of hoped he would.
"The little boy is named Kenneth, and his sister is Kiana." I told him about them. About their mom, who was sort of a friend, and I would baby sit for her, sometimes. We brainstormed presents they could use together, but then also stuff they could have on their own.
"Should we sneak in and deliver them?"
"That's a good way to get shot in my old neighborhood."
"So, no. We could just order them and have them delivered. No problem."
"This is fun, though. I wish I could see their faces when the presents come. I love doing this with you." I said, grinning.
"And I love…"
He didn't finish.
Oh, damn it, Adrian. He loves me. Oh, he loves me, he loves me, and that makes me so happy….and I love him too. But it's not like I can tell him that. This has been a wonderful, sweet fantasy, but…it can't go on. I knew it couldn't. Unless I decided, once and for all, that I was willing to give up the rest of my life at the ripe old age of sixteen. Give up the rest of the world, in exchange for Adrian. Was it worth it?
I didn't want to choose that.
"Do you want to send anything to your father?" he asked. "Christmas dinner, maybe?"
I frowned. "I don't…He probably doesn't even live in the same place anymore," I said, and it was the truth. Eviction loomed large in our lives, and it would be even more likely, now that I wasn't there to help him manage things.
"I'll find out where he is, and we'll send something," Adrian said decidedly. "I'll make sure he's safe, Lindy. I…I would do anything for you."
Oh, God, Adrian. He's said that to me, before.
And no one else ever has.
The days passed quickly, and I couldn't help but feel that something was going to have to happen, soon. But not now. Now it was Christmastime.
Adrian asked me, on Christmas Eve, if I usually went to church, or anything. I blinked. We'd never really talked about religion.
"I just wondered if you wanted to go to a service; there's some chapels that have a Christmas service at midnight."
I hadn't done Midnight Mass since my mother died, and suddenly, it sounded like a lovely idea.
"Will…you go with me?" I asked.
He frowned. "I…I wouldn't…not in a crowd like that, but…maybe Magda could…you…you wouldn't leave, would you? Not…on Christmas Eve?"
I blinked again. I hadn't even thought about leaving. I'd gotten him a present. Magda had gotten it for me; a bound volume of fairy tales by Hans Christian Andersen. I'd had it engraved. We had a tree. Why would I leave? "I don't want to go at all, if you don't go. We can just stay home and watch a service on TV."
"There…there is a church down the street…they're holding a live nativity. I think they'll have real animals, like sheep, and stuff. I could take you to that. It's…it's outside. I could just stand in the shadows."
I nodded. "Okay, let's go to that," I agreed.
So we went. I stepped outside for the first time since July. Adrian wore a big coat with a hood, and gloves. He held my hand as we walked down the street, and I squeezed it. He squeezed back.
We stood in back, in the shadows, and even so, whenever anyone turned to look in his direction, he cringed and hid.
This is how it would be, I knew, if we were together. Always hiding. Always concealed.
The performance started, then, and I put it from my mind. It's Christmastime. This can keep until after Christmas. You can have one Christmas.
It was…nice. Kids our age, dressed up as angels and wise men; the Mary character was younger than me. Maybe thirteen? Fourteen? That hit me, actually. These…outsiders. With nowhere else to go. And she was so young, about to have a baby.
In another life…an infinitely suckier life…that could have been my story. God. That was a heavy thought.
Hell, it was already really close to my story, now.
For a while, we were just…silent. In the cold night air, under the stars, together, but separated from everyone else, me and Adrian just…existed.
And then…we went home. We drank hot chocolate, and Will bugged us to hang our stockings.
"You've left it for the last minute! It's Christmas Eve!"
"Will, we aren't kids, anymore," Adrian said quietly, and I wondered if the odd mood I'd picked up had been communicated to him, somehow. I didn't want that. It was Christmas.
"You never know what will happen in the dark," Will said, and I just smiled.
I just knew…the stockings would be filled by morning.
AUTHORS NOTE
This is another one I'm still working on. This one got the short straw, today and yesterday. But my other WIPs are in line, ready to be worked on, next!
This story should go on...another 5...ish? Chapters? Maybe? I'm firmly in Lindy, right now, because Adrian needs to put his two cents in, next chapter, so I'll be taking info from both books, again. (Adrian didn't write about the holidays, Lindy did. The last thing Adrian wrote about was the 5th floor scene, and the roses, last chapter. His book is mostly about him, so there's also a whole year before he even exists with Lindy in the same narrative.) This is just my labor of making the two accounts more consistent, and adding my own headcanons, a bit. I might want to do something similar to compare the book and movie? But I'm not sure I'm up to that task, just yet.
~Angeladex
