I love Blue. I’m trying my best to accept him for who he is. I understand his wandering spirit. But I’m cold and confused and scared, and as much as I try to convince myself that I can love Blue for now and give him the freedom he seems to desperately need, I can’t deny that my heart has been hoping for more. The sad reality of us is that I’m hurting him by wanting more just as much as he’s hurting me by not being able to give more.
We’re stuck… and I have no idea where we’re supposed to go from here.
Chapter Eleven
I have a love-hate relationship with the holidays. Especially Christmas. I love the music, the movies, and the decorations. I love the sense of spirit, the coming together of friends and family. I love buying and wrapping gifts. What I hate is the stress and the greed and the rushing.
This year, I also particularly hate my older sister sitting on her fiancé’s lap next to the fireplace with her big-ass beacon of an engagement ring on her finger and a pile of presents next to her that’s taller than I am. All presents from him, wrapped up in telltale paper clearly from upscale stores like Tiffany and Nordstrom.
Yes, I’m a jealous, immature bitch for feeling this way, but that’s just where I am in my life right now—hating people who have what I want. And I don’t mean material things. I mean having that special person involved in every part of your life.
I finger the beaded bracelet Blue gave me a few weeks ago, which I haven’t taken off once and which has more value to me than any diamond tennis bracelet ever could. But he’s not here, and I wish he was.
As I sip my crystal glass of eggnog, I try to picture Blue here with me, sitting on the loveseat beside me and opening presents. I can easily imagine him laughing and joking with my family, even playing holiday songs on his guitar. Once upon a time, my grandfather played the banjo, and I can imagine him and Blue talking in great depth about music. My grandmother would touch his hair and tell him how unfair it is for a man to have such beautiful, wavy hair.
That illusion quickly fades, and in its place, I can see my father drilling Blue with questions about what he does for work, what his five-year plan is, and why he’s wasting time playing music when that’s a dead-end dream for hippies. I can hear my sisters giggling about how good-looking he would be if he would cut his hair. I can understand why Blue wouldn’t want to deal with any of that.
My mother approaches me where I sit in the dining room. “Honey, why are you hiding way over here? Come sit with the rest of us. Grandma can’t even see you sitting this far away.”
“I’m not hiding, Mom. There wasn’t any place to sit.”
“There’s always room. Don’t be so shy, sweetie. I thought your boyfriend was going to join us. Your father and I were looking forward to meeting him. You’ve practically moved in with him, and we haven’t even met him yet.”
My fingers tighten around my glass. “I haven’t moved in with him.”
“Piper, you’re hardly ever home anymore. That poor cat cries all night for you.”
My head snaps to face her. I’m sure she must be exaggerating. “What? He does not.”
“Yes, he does. We can hear him from up here. I’ve gone down to check on him, and he’s just sitting at the door, meowing. The poor thing misses you.”
God, now I feel terrible. I had no idea Archie missed me when I wasn’t home. He usually ignores me or only comes near me when he wants food or to have his head petted for five minutes exactly. Not a moment less or longer or he’ll bite or scratch me.
“My boyfriend couldn’t make it. I’m going to go see him later, after we open the presents.”
“I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere tonight. It’s snowing, and I don’t want to be worrying about you driving around on Christmas Eve in ice and snow. Your grandmother will be worried sick, too.”
“Mom—”
“I know you’re an adult, Piper, but that’s no reason to be unsafe or cause your family to worry about you on a holiday. And what kind of man lets a woman drive around at all hours of the night anyway? Especially in the snow.”
I am not at all in the mood to go down this road with her tonight. I’ve heard it all many times in the past few weeks. “Mom, can we not do this tonight?”
Her bright red lips part, then close to a thin smile. “You’re right. It’s Christmas. But promise me you won’t go out tonight. The roads are so bad that your grandparents are staying here. Haven’t you looked outside?”
I’ve been too busy daydreaming to think about the weather. When I told Blue yesterday that I’d be coming to see him tonight, I had no idea it was supposed to snow today. Dammit. My sucky driving sucks even worse in bad weather. Even if my mother wasn’t trying to ground me like a teenager, I wouldn’t be keen on driving across town tonight.
“Okay.” I give in. “I’ll stay home. But tomorrow I’m going to see him.”
“If that’s what you want to do. I’d much prefer he come here for dinner, but I’m not going to argue with you. Now come sit in the living room with the rest of the family.”
I try to enjoy the rest of the night and be happily joyous, but I’m just not feeling it this year. I miss Blue and Acorn, and my heart aches to be with them. I’m worried about Blue being alone, especially if it’s snowing and he can’t walk anywhere to get what he needs or clear his mind.
Ever since the night at the diner, his dark mood has clung to him like a shroud. There have been a few fleeting moments when he’s laughed and smiled, but it seemed forced. He’s been dark and cloudy, much like the storms he both loves and hates, and I wonder when the rainbow of light and color will return.
Chapter Twelve
Eight inches is no joke. It’s much deeper than it sounds. Especially when it’s an unplowed dead-end street. Luckily, I don’t have to stop until the very end of the street, so when my car starts to slide and fishtail down the slight hill, I’m grateful there’s nothing I can crash into.
Once the car stops sliding, I park crookedly in front of the old, forgotten house, wondering how I’m going to get to the backyard because the driveway hasn’t been plowed and the walkway hasn’t been shoveled. Because it’s an abandoned house and it has to keep looking abandoned, even though Blue is basically living on the property. I understand that he can’t be shoveling a path for me, and as I schlep through the snow toward the house, I’m worried about leaving all these boot prints on the property. Just as I’m walking around the side of the house, Blue appears.
“I thought I saw car lights,” he says, leaning down for a kiss. “I didn’t know if you were coming today since you didn’t show up yesterday.”
“It was snowing, and my mom was freaking out about me driving and upsetting my grandmother—”
His warm lips are on mine again. “Don’t worry about it,” he says with a smile. “I missed ya.”
“I missed you, too.”
“Jump on my back and I’ll carry you the rest of the way. The snow is almost up to your waist, shorty.”
Laughing, I smack his arm. “It is not.”
“Jump on anyway.” He turns, and I jump on his back, hanging on to his shoulders and giggling as he trudges through while Acorn frolics around beside us. At the shed door, we stomp our feet to get rid of the snow and then quickly scoot inside.
“Wow,” I exclaim instantly. Blue’s been busy… rearranging. Everything’s in a different place, as if he moved all the stuff in the room clockwise. The best part, the part that makes my heart jump into my throat and gives me such a burst of happiness that I almost cry, is the tiny fake Christmas tree in the corner decorated with a few strands of glistening silver tinsel. One wrapped present is placed nearby. Blue’s standing in the middle of the room, smiling from ear to ear.
“I cleaned up a little, and I fixed the door so it shuts better. And I got this tree.”
“It’s beautiful.” His smile and bright, excited eyes are drastic changes from the last time I saw him when he was still sad, depressed, scribbling, and walking around all night. That mood lasted for days, and I was starting to worry he would never come out of it. Seeing him relaxed and happy again is the best present in the world, and I have to throw my arms around him and hug him because I missed this version of him so much. His embrace is tight and fierce enough to make my ribs hurt, and I wonder if he misses himself when he gets that way.
“I know I’ve been fucked up,” he whispers into my hair.
“It’s okay. We all have bad days.”
We slowly let go of each other, and he crosses the room to get the present from under the tree. “This is for you.”
I bite my tongue to keep myself from saying, “You didn’t have to get me anything,” because I know how much it bothers him when I say things like that. Instead, I take off my coat and sit on the bed to open his gift. I unwrap it slowly, wanting to relish and remember this moment with my first Christmas present from him. Inside the cardboard box, under crumpled white tissue paper, is a tiny wooden trinket box with a blue bird painted on the front. A few small scratches mar the surface of the wood, but I’m not bothered by them at all. My breathing stalls for a moment as a wave of total adoration for this man washes over me.