Merry (belated) Christmas! Finally, the Christmas chapter is done, albeit a little late. In this one, Michael and Amanda have their first Christmas together and talk about their terrible holidays in the past. (Trigger warning for past child abuse)
North Yankton, December 24th, 1990
Merry fuckin' Christmas…
Michael would have laughed at the thought if it wasn't for the beer bottle around his mouth. He was alone, as always, with only the alcohol in his hand and the shitty old Christmas movies playing on his TV to keep him company. He'd never really celebrated it when he was a kid; partly because he was too poor, partly because his father had always found some way to ruin it.
He shook his head, taking another drink and looking around his trailer. The only decorations he had were the ones that Amanda had practically forced him to put up a few days ago. She had taken one look around at his dim, dull place, and then at the rest of his trailer park, which was lit up brightly with holiday decor. "God, this is depressing, babe…" she'd told him. After much arguing and his insistence that he really didn't care about Christmas, she'd returned the next day with bundles of Christmas lights in her arms and a grin on her face.
A small smile tugged at his lips at the image, still fresh in his mind. They'd only been dating for about a month, but he already felt comfortable with her in a way he never had with anyone else.
But she was gone, off having fun with her family, and he was here. So it goes, he sighed in frustration and lit up a cigarette, lips frowning against it. He was getting tired of it. Tired of being a miserable fuck, tired of being alone.
Before he knew it, he was leaning back into the chair, cigarette still in hand, and was drifting off to sleep with those depressing thoughts in his mind.
"Merry Christmas, Michael," his father told him gruffly, awkwardly gesturing to the one present under their small tree.
Michael almost couldn't believe his eyes. His father, the imposing, feared Mr. Townley, was sober for once. Michael could only smell the faintest hint of beer on him as he stared at him almost in awe. He'd even shaved, too! Still, he tried not to get his hopes up too hard, knowing that this kind of thing had happened before and nothing changed. He was nearly 17 now and didn't quite believe in Christmas miracles.
He hesitantly walked towards the tree and sat down next to the poorly wrapped present (obvious handiwork of his father), shaking it hesitantly and feeling something bounce around inside the box. Despite his earlier thoughts, excitement slowly started to grow in him. Maybe it was that new football he'd kept asking for, Michael thought almost giddily. In his distraction, he didn't notice his dad starting to drink in the background or the impatient look on his face.
"Quit playing with the damn thing, boy, and open it," his father snapped after a minute, his fingers in a death grip around his beer bottle, his growl making the younger boy jump in surprise.
After that, Michael quickly unwrapped it, tearing open the wrapping paper and the box to reveal a brand-new...basketball. He looked down at it, trying to not look too confused about it. He hated playing basketball and had always made a point of how much he didn't like it to his father, who apparently hadn't listened.
He seemed to do a pretty good job at hiding his confusion. "You like it? Almost had to fight some shithead at the store for it. Told 'em to fuck off, that's for my boy," Mr. Townley proudly boasted.
"Yes, sir-" Michael started.
"Thought you and your friends could play together after school sometime."
"Yes, sir, but-" he barely managed to get out before he got snapped at.
"But what?" That familiar anger had started to seep into his voice and he had moved onto his third beer by now.
"But, I, ah, I'm on the football team...and I don't really play basketball all that much…" Michael stuttered in a panic. His mother was out today, the only one who could calm his father's temper, and he knew that he needed to take his next steps very carefully.
"Hm, I see."
"Y-you do?" Michael asked shakily.
"Yeah," his dad slowly stood up, eyes glazed with drunkenness and rage. "I see that you think you're better than this family because you're the quarterback of some white-trash football team from a town nobody's ever even heard of."
"No, that's not it-"
The familiar sound of the belt being wrapped around his father's knuckles soon came. "On your knees, boy."
Ordinarily, Michael would have already silently obliged. But not today. "No." He stood up and turned around to face him, eyes staring coldly into his father's, which were devoid of any emotion besides hatred.
His father slapped him, making him reel back in shock a little. "On. Your. Knees. I ain't gonna say it again."
Still, Michael stood there, despite feeling tears of pain starting to sting at the edges of his eyes. "Dad, I am your son," he pleaded, voice shaky and almost begging.
"No," he shook his head. "No son of mine would be such an ungrateful, pathetic piece of shit. No son of mine would think he's better than me just because he has some scholarships to some fancy colleges!"
With that, Michael finally snapped, his hand rearing back to hit the man who saw him as nothing more than his personal punching bag. His attempt was quickly cut short by his father grabbing his fist with ease; his other hand dropping the belt and wrapping around his throat, pinning Michael against the wall with ease.
"You are so goddamn weak! I thought football players were supposed to be tough…?" Mr. Townley said of his son's feeble struggles to pry his hand away from his throat. "They will fuckin' eat you in the real world, they will destroy you. And you can't do a damn thing about it because you can't fight for shit and you can't provide for your family to save your life. Well...at least I can show you how to take it like a man."
Just as his vision had started to fade around the edges, the hand was taken from Michael's throat. The brief moment of relief Michael had was quickly cut short when he was roughly grabbed and thrown down to the floor, the loud crunch of bone snapping sounding out when he landed on his right arm.
"Good luck throwing with that arm," his father chuckled as he stared down at Michael, who was somewhere between gasping for air and crying out in pain. "Bye-bye, football."
The knocking at his door pulled him from his nightmare, making him spring awake in shock and fear before he realized that it'd just been a dream. The sound of his girlfriend's voice behind the door was the thing that finally brought him back to reality. "Michael…?" Amanda called out softly as she knocked at the door again before her voice grew slightly impatient. "Michael, I know you're in there…"
"Uh, yeah...door's open, babe," Michael finally managed to yell, too shaken to get up himself.
"Merry Christmas, darling," she said in a singsong voice as she entered his trailer. A small smile crossed his face when he caught sight of her. She was in an oversized Christmas sweater which hung off of her like a tent and was wearing a Santa hat that only made her look cuter. The goofy grin that she had on her face quickly faded when she saw him. "Has anyone told you to not fall asleep with a lit cigarette?" she asked teasingly.
Michael quickly looked down to the cigarette in his hand, which had almost burnt down to his fingers at this point, and quickly stamped it out. "Ah, merry Christmas, Mandy…" he stuttered out nervously.
She looked over him, at his deathly pale, flustered face and the cold sweat forming on his forehead, causing a concerned frown to form on her face. "Babe, are you okay?"
"Um, yeah, I'm fine," he lied. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but aren't you supposed to be with your family?" Michael asked, hastily trying to change the subject.
Amanda shrugged. "They can wait. Besides, I didn't want you to be all alone on Christmas."
"Ah, don't you worry about me. I wasn't completely alone. Trevor stopped by earlier," he said as he smirked at her teasingly.
"Good thing I missed that. Did he give you a lot of presents?" she asked sarcastically, her dislike of the psychopath clear.
"Surprisingly, no," Michael laughed. "He told me that his friendship is the best present I could ever have and then tried to get me to rob some of the shops in town with him."
Amanda sat next to him on the couch and snuggled up against him. "I'm surprised you said no."
"Eh, I decided to wallow in my self-pity at home, where it's warm," he said with a small shrug.
"And that is exactly why I'm here, darling," she said cheerfully as she took his face in her hands and pressed a light kiss to his lips before pulling away and placing that stupid fuckin' Santa hat onto his head. "You seemed pretty upset the other day, so I thought I'd come cheer you up."
He glanced up to that ridiculous hat on his head and the grin on her face and allowed himself a weak smile. "Thanks, sweetheart, but...I, ah, I dunno...I just associate Christmas with such shittiness at this point, y'know?" he admitted, putting his head in his hands. "Never really did anything for it when I was a kid. Half the time we were too poor, the other half I was lucky if my dad was sober." Fuckin' ghost of Christmas past, he thought bitterly.
Amanda sighed next to him and wrapped her arms around him, her warmth enveloping him and making him feel just a little bit better. "Me too. You basically just described my entire childhood," she said bitterly.
He pressed himself closer to her and glanced up into the sadness in her eyes, knowing that was probably how he looked, too. "You had your sisters, though, right?" he mumbled.
"Yeah, sure…" she muttered. "...but my parents didn't exactly sugarcoat why Santa didn't come for us every year, though."
Michael reached up and gripped her hand reassuringly. "I know just how you feel…" he sighed. "I just...I feel like it's too late for me to start liking it now. Like there's too many shitty memories," he said, a small shiver running through him at the last part of the sentence.
She nodded. "Maybe…" she trailed off before a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "That doesn't that we can't try to have some fun, though. You and I weren't raised on fairytales, Michael. It's shitty, but that's the way it's always gonna be. All we can do is try to make new memories."
With that, she gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek before getting up and walking over to his radio and turning it on. The low hums of a Christmas song soon started as she turned around to face him, holding out her hand expectantly. "Come dance with me, Townley."
He reluctantly got up and took her hand as he started dancing with her, slowly moving along with her. "Ah, I'm not that great at this kinda stuff, Mandy…" he said of his stiff, lumbering movements.
Amanda rested her head on his chest with an amused look in her eyes. "That's okay…" she said soothingly.
They soon fell into a rhythm, an awkward one, but one nonetheless, and lapsed into peaceful silence as the lyrics of the song started.
Oh, the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since we've no place to go
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
It doesn't show signs of stopping
And I brought some corn for popping
The lights are turned down low
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
When we finally kiss goodnight
How I'll hate to go out in the storm
But if you really hold me tight
All the way home I'll be warm
The fire is slowly dying
And my dear, we're still goodbying
But as long as you love me so
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
By the time the song ended, he had gotten significantly better at it, and had danced with her with such a gentleness that she never knew he had. "There you go!" Amanda happily exclaimed. "You just needed some practice."
"I guess I did…" he chuckled, keeping his hands on her waist long after the song ended. "This is...ah, this is nice."
"Yeah, it really is," she said, hands rested on his shoulders. Her eyes wandered over to the clock, sighing when she caught sight of the time. "I should be going soon…"
"Wait, uh, before you go…" he quickly ran into his bedroom and came back, present in hand. "Merry Christmas."
"You know you didn't have to get me anything," she told him, but a smile still crossed her face at the small box he'd pressed into her hand. She looked down at it, at his awful wrapping job and giggled slightly.
"Don't judge me…" he muttered sheepishly.
"Oh, not at all, darling…" she smirked as she opened it, revealing the small jewelry box from her favorite store. She tried to not meet his excited gaze as she opened it up, revealing the earrings inside of them. "Michael, these are gorgeous, but way too expensive-"
"You like them though, right?" he asked nervously. "You always looked at them every time we went into the store…"
She bit her lip hesitantly, torn between being excited for them and being concerned for him. "I do...I love them, but I know how much they must have cost you. Don't you have more important things to spend your money on than me?"
"Honey, you are the most important thing in my life right now," he said, earning a blush from her. "Besides, a couple extra jobs won't hurt me."
"...Fine, you hopeless romantic," Amanda finally conceded and put the earrings on.
Michael smiled at her as he tucked a lock of hair behind her hair. He ran his fingers along one of the earrings, saying "You look beautiful."
"Thanks, darling," she said before giving him a light kiss to the lips. "I, um, I forgot your present at home...but I have something to show you."
"Oh, yeah?" he grinned at her devilishly. "And what is that?"
"Well…" she drawled out before grabbing his hand and tugging him along to his bedroom door. "Look up."
He did, revealing the mistletoe hanging above his door. "Did you put that up while I wasn't looking?" he asked with a teasing frown.
"Maybe…" she said mysteriously. "I guess we have to kiss now."
"I guess we do." He happily obliged, pulling her down into a deep kiss. They smiled against the kiss, both of them determined to not become like their parents, to forget the bad memories that they grew up with, to make new ones together.
The kiss quickly escalated into something more as her fingers ran through his hair, knocking the Santa hat to the floor. She quickly jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist, making him stumble back in shock. He recovered quickly enough, barely not managing to fall over or drop her, and started carrying her into the bedroom.
He set her down on the bed hastily, their tongues still practically down each other's throats. She only pulled away to quickly take off his shirt, carelessly tossing it aside. He had just started tugging at the bottom of her sweater before she put her hands on his chest. "Wait," Amanda gasped out. "Let me."
Michael raised his eyebrows at that, but allowed her to move on top of him. Slowly, as if she was performing for him at the club, she took her shirt off, revealing the red and white lingerie beneath. His breath hitched at the sight and his hands instinctively moved up to grip her hips, but her hands grabbed his and placed them firmly down on the mattress before he could. "But, babe, I wanna unwrap my present," he pouted in protest.
"Well, you can wait a minute," she said as she shoved him back onto the bed playfully. She started to strip for him even more slowly, much to his dismay, her eyes staring deeply into his with lust and admiration.
By the time that she was in nothing but her underwear, he almost couldn't take it anymore. He effortlessly flipped on top of her and started kissing her neck, earning a sharp gasp from her. "Someone's excited…" she breathed out.
He didn't respond, just kept kissing at her neck hungrily. One of his hands buried into her hair, the other swiftly tugging her underwear off. For a moment, he pulled back, panting, and stared down at her appreciatively and lovingly, earning a blush from her.
Amanda, impatient as she was, hooked her fingers through the belt loops of his jeans and pulled him closer. She started working them off of him, the task only prolonged by his mouth finding her neck again and his hips moving against hers.
Finally, mercifully, she had tossed them aside and was struggling with the opening of his boxers. Before long, they fell into their familiar rhythm, one that they had far more practice with than dancing. He kept kissing at her neck, her lips, anywhere he could find while her hands buried into his hair as she pulled him down to her and whispered directions and sweet nothings into her ear. He took the encouragement in stride, following her instructions until they became nothing more than incoherent moans.
For once, maybe out of generosity or his own Christmas spirit, he didn't try and draw it out like he usually did. Michael peppered her skin with kisses as she finished, her body still shaking with adrenaline even after he had finished and collapsed on the bed next to her. She pressed herself against him, humming in contentment as they both caught their breath.
He wrapped his arms around her and lightly pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm, ah, I'm really glad you came over tonight…" he said softly, almost hesitantly.
Amanda smiled at him in satisfaction. "Glad I could cheer you up…" she murmured as she rested her head against his shoulder.
As they laid there in peaceful silence, Michael felt a sudden wave of happiness wash over him as he held his girlfriend close to him. One thought ran through his mind as he looked down at her lovingly: Maybe Christmas isn't that bad...