The First Noel - 3. Chapter Two: Packages Big and Small

Christmas Eve, 2011

Women were strange and foreign creatures, and there was simply no getting around that. No matter how pretty, how alluring, how seemingly sweet and innocent, they were all cunning black spiders deep inside, just waiting for you to slip up and make it all the easier to lure you into their deep, dark web of deception. You were a fly to them, just another slab of meat being laid out on the dinner table. And the worst part?

Once you’re in, there’s no getting out.

Callie slammed the cab door so hard I saw the driver jump and the poor car rock on its chassis. Her violence was sudden and alarming, and I had no idea where it had come from—she hadn’t said a word to me since she’d stormed out of the restaurant. I hurtled out of the cab after her, concerned not just for my safety but the safety of all the windows in the neighborhood, because surely nothing could withstand the seeming brutality of Callie Monroe’s fiery wrath.

What the fuck was her problem? Was it something I said? Did I have spinach in my teeth and completely forget to do something about it?

“Callie, Callie!” I trotted half-heartedly along after her, not sure whether what I felt was wanting to know what was wrong, or just wanting to go inside and have a nice hot bath and a cup of peppermint tea. The woman was one to play a lot of games, and I was a man who couldn’t tolerate them for the world. “Callie, what the fuck is going on?”

She kept going, giving nothing of a reply other than a muttered, “Nothing, Noël. Everything is just fine and dandy.”

I didn’t know what else to say, so I simply marched along behind her and trapped one of her tightly clenched, shaky fists in an iron grip before she could escape. For a split second, she thought she could still walk ahead and kept moving her legs, but my hold stopped her dead in her tracks and jerked her closer to me. From the brief glimpse I got of her eyes, I could have sworn flames were going to shoot out and burn me to a crisp.

Once she regained her balance and reassembled what little she could of her pride, Callie turned away from me and ground her teeth silently. I saw her jaw work as she tried to check her emotions and not rip my arm right out of its socket.

When she finally spoke, her words were a growl. “Let go of my arm.”

I shivered, but ignored her words. “Not until you tell me why I’m standing here instead of in my house, where it’s actually warm.”

“I don’t want to tell you. I just want to go home and forget everything that happened here tonight.” As if to prove a point, she yanked on my grip, trying to catch me off guard and make escape that much easier for her. But too bad, so sad for her—I wouldn’t be made a fool that easily. I might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed growing up, but I was certainly no idiot.

I tightened my grip, granting myself the satisfaction of seeing her flinch, if only just a miniscule amount. My words, too, were a growl.

“Not so fast, there, c—”

“Just let me the fuck go!!”

She rounded on me, her ice-blue eyes sparking and flashing with her rage, her platinum hair seeming to crackle with the intense energy a woman like her commanded when really, really pissed. Her lips twisted in a ferocious snarl, and I had to really work to keep myself from squeaking in alarm. She looked like she could tear a phone book in half with the barest flick of her littlest finger, let alone a human body part—say, my arm, for example.

I gasped and tried frantically to keep my heart from leaping out of my throat, where it was pounding the walls of its prison like a trapped and terrified rabbit. But right at the last second, I changed tactics and tried to blow off the gasp with a cough, then a wry twist of my lips to try and lead her in the opposite direction—I didn’t want her to know she was getting under my skin.

“J-jeez, Callie,” I sighed as if I was already tired of the conversation, when really, my entire body skittered with nervous trembles. I lifted a hand to brush aside a stray strand of hair, but quickly lowered it before she could notice it shaking. “What is it with you today? You’re so damn pissy. You’re doing this now, and you made a fool of the both of us back at the restaurant...” What had happened at the restaurant? I couldn’t remember anything I had done wrong, not one single thing. We’d driven there in a cab, picked a table, and ate, and then...then, we...um...

The threat of tears burned at the back of my throat and I blinked furiously—a reaction that meant run.

Either that, or something was about to spiral entirely out of control.

Whatever it meant, Callie saw right through my façade.

I saw it in her eyes first, the way they flashed even brighter as the menace crept through their cerulean depths. Then she started to move towards me, her steps slow and oiled with suppressed loathing for me right then. Now, I was the one trying to back out of her grip, because at some point Callie had taken the wheel.

My eyes went wide and I could feel my lower lip start to tremble. “C-Callie, what are you—”

She hissed like a cat, and I closed my mouth so fast my teeth snapped together.

I was being pushed back against my will. Step by step, Callie marched me back toward where the cab had been, the driver having enough wit about him to flee before it got too messy. I slipped and skidded as my footing caught and went on the packed snow and ice, but I daren’t turn, for fear Callie would slaughter me from behind. I had known she was pissed, but I would have fled with the cabbie had I known she was this furious.

And then she started to speak.

“You think I’m pissy?” she snarled, her voice no louder than a cat’s growl. If I hadn’t already been quaking in terror, right then would be a good time to start. “You think I’m pissy! What about you, huh? You and your daydreaming, ignoring your date when you’re supposed to be having dinner together?”

That made no sense, but I wasn’t in a position to argue. “W-what are you talking about?”

She laughed, a bitter, chilling sound. “Don’t play games with me, Noël.”

I grew ever-more confused. “N-no, seriously, what are you talking about? What did I do wrong?”

“What did you do wrong? You can’t seriously be saying that to me, after all this.”

“But—”

“No way. You’re actually going to make me relive that. That’s low, Noël. Really, really low.” Callie stared at me with a terrifying mix of disbelief, disgust, and outrage scrawled across every line of her pretty-turned-mind-numbing-in-anger face, but with no more complaint than a loathsome head shake, she proceeded to list every single mistake I’d ever made in the time we’d been a couple—not even counting tonight. I felt my face twist, seemingly of its own accord, when she used the c-word, because up until that point I hadn’t dared to apply the damn thing, for fear of throwing up in my sock and ruining the rest of our time knowing each other, which was to say the rest of my university years. After our first “date”, Callie had transferred to all of my classes, claiming it was for more “bonding time”. Of course, being me, I didn’t object.

I tried not to gag even as I thought about it.

Fuck, I was such a goddamn pushover.

Callie was still ranting on and on. “—never wash the dishes, your friends are jerks, you always reek of that Tristen boy, and—are you even listening to me?!”

I flinched at the mention of my old friend who may or may not have helped ease some of my...tension over the years. Holy teddy bears, Batman, Callie was sure playing rough tonight. I mean—

“NOËL!!”

Oops. I flinched again, barely having time to open my mouth and defend myself before she was on me again. Her fingernails bit into the skin of my forearm, pressing and demanding with the height of Callie’s rage. The dagger-like tips broke skin and I winced, then loosed a pained gasp as she just kept on digging.

“You never learn, do you?!” The woman’s voice was hysterical in her rage. “You never, ever learn. I can’t believe you, Noël. I simply can’t. You go and do one little thing, make one little mistake, and it’s all I can do not to rip your throat out and laugh while you bleed. Do you even care about anything? Do you even care that you made me this pissed?”

I couldn’t take it anymore—the abuse, the confusion, her anger, everything.

“What can’t you believe? Why are you so mad? What the fuck did I do?!” My vision flared with red and a thick, coppery taste coated my tongue. I tried to force her nails from my arm, but she held on tight.

“You see?! That’s what I’m talking about! You mess up, but you’re not man enough to accept it. You’re not man enough to look your consequences in the eye and deal with it like an adult.”

“How...how dare...you can’t...”

“Oh yes I can. After everything you put me through, I deserve to say something like that.”

Callie released my arm and stalked across the street, the winter wind lifting her hair off her shoulders. It seemed to snap in the chilly evening air, settling once she reached the other side and resumed her ranting, though this time trying a different angle.

“Try to remember what you did wrong tonight, Noël, then try to piece together just why I’m so pissed at you. Because it’s not just tonight that’s bothering me. This war stretches far back in time, even before we started dating,” she air-quoted the word, “And I’m sick of it.”

“But—”

“Oh, for once in your life, just listen to me!”

By my standards, everything had started so very well. Callie had come by at seven, dropped her car off in front of the house, and we took a cab downtown, where I had booked us reservations at one of the most prestigious restaurants in the whole city. Callie had no idea what was going on, only that it was Christmas Eve, so it had to be good. Plus, I didn’t murder her in the first five minutes together.

“Aw, c’mon, Noël,” she whined, leaning her shoulder against mine and looking up at me like a puppy. In the cramped backseat of the cab, the shift didn’t have much significance, other than to push me even closer to the door. “Tell me where you’re taking me.”

I chuckled but the laughter sounded forced, unnatural. I may not have noticed it then, but Callie had an affect on me that was about as far from positive as you could get. It seemed similar with all women, but with her it was worse.

I tapped her nose, taking my hand away as quickly as possible. “No, no. You’ll just have to wait.”

“Oh, but I can’t wait!”

She used the word can’t a lot—just another reason added to the Why Callie Monroe is No Good for Me file. It was a fast-growing folder. Would probably need a filing cabinet soon.

But in the real world, I just shook my head and faked a smile, like I was this close to telling her, when really all I wanted was to jump out of the car and run away. We were almost there, anyway—she could see for herself.

Callie stuck her lower lip out in a pout. “You’re so mean, Noël.” She didn’t say anything else, soon finding a conversation via text with goodness knows who much more interesting than a brooding, silent boy. As her fingers ticked away at the phone keys, her sharp eyebrows drew lower and lower, and her mouth twisted to the side in thought. Not that I cared enough to notice—never that. Just curious.

Shortly after, the cabbie pulled the flaming yellow car up in front of the restaurant, and all things were forgotten. A waiting valet with bright green eyes and a charmingly shifty, pleasing face opened our doors for us when we rolled to a stop. Callie flew out onto the sidewalk and spun in a circle.

“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!!” she squealed. Her eyes found mine. “This is...you took me to...this is...” Callie had to take a breath. “This is that place! That fancy-schmancy, totally hip new restaurant Mikey was telling us about!”

I didn’t have a clue who Mikey was, nor did I care. My attention was fixed on the valet. Having completed his duties, he rocked back and forth on his heels, his eyes flickering back and forth across the parking lot. He kept glancing at a watch hidden beneath his uniform, like he had somewhere to be. I didn’t know what it was, but I was fascinated by the man.

Maybe he reminded me of someone I once knew.

Callie took my arm and practically dragged me towards the doors, every inch of her trembling in anticipation of being seen at such a restaurant. How had she described it? Fancy-schmancy?

We took a table next to a wide bay window overlooking the street next to the restaurant. Just moments after we settled in, a tall, dark-haired gent draped in deep, shadowy colors took our drink orders. Callie ran a finger over the beverages section of the menu, and I took advantage of her distraction to examine the waiter much like I did the valet. I was intrigued by the similarities.

This man, too, had the valet’s striking eyes and eager air about him. He was less shifty as opposed to quietly watchful, but his attentions kept straying to check the time as well. It seemed there was something about the staff in this place, but....I looked around, watching a barmaid that couldn’t have been any older than me deliver drinks to a group of rowdy twenty-something-year-olds. They whistled and tried to pinch her in certain places. But despite that, she had moved patiently and purposefully, not eager at all. Hmm.

The waiter shifted from foot to foot as if to hurry Callie along. He stilled when it was my turn to order, however.

Distracted, I simply murmured, “Water,” then watched him depart.

My fascination didn’t slip past Callie this time, though. That twist of her mouth returned again, and she leaned forward to catch my attention. The way she settled herself gave me a plain view of her unshielded cleavage, which was—from experience—a fair bit fuller than you’d think upon first glance.

She tried to start a conversation. “So how do you like the place so far, Noël? Really...captivating, isn’t it?” Her eyes twinkled with suppressed emotion. She sat back in her chair, leaving my eyes staring where her breasts had been. “The music, the people, the outfits...oh, the outfits...”

I blinked. She’d lost me at music...had there been music playing?

Callie kept on. “...did you see what that valet was wearing? The cute little thing with the green eyes? Oh, and the waiter? The desk people? The barmaids? The pink spotted unicorns puking out butterflies?”

What?! “Pink spotted what?”

“Oh, so you are listening to me.”

“Of course I am, love, I always—”

“Yes, yes, whatever you say, darling.”

I submitted to another round of blinking, but luckily I didn’t have to retaliate because the waiter returned with our drinks, took our meal orders, then left without a word. As soon as he dropped off our orders at the kitchen, he slipped out of his uniform and vanished out a different door. It was another dark-clad male that returned our food to us.

“Fast service here, isn’t there?” said Callie. She’d ordered a plate of the restaurant’s best spaghetti and meat sauce, hold all the meat. Interesting girl, that one. She picked at the pasta with the tip of her fork, finding me more interesting than food. That would soon change. “Cute staff, too.”

I snapped my eyes up to hers. For some reason, my face heated. “W-what are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. I noticed your staring. Out in the parking lot, before our drinks, now,” she gestured at nothing in particular. “I mean, really. So obvious.”

My temperature increased even more. As she moved in closer, I pulled back, running a finger along the collar of the shirt I was wearing. “Is it...getting h-hot in here...?”

“So, so obvious.”

“I think I need to...”

“Noël.”

I forced myself to hold still and meet her eyes. Her hidden emotion had given way to light playfulness, something that startled me almost as much as her “realization” had. My mouth flapped open. She was teasing me. I blushed and put all my attention into shoveling down the pieces of poached salmon and potatoes I had mistakenly let Callie talk me into ordering.

Callie barked out a laugh. “You should look at your face right now. It’s so hilarious. Seriously. You look like a tomato.”

I shoved another bite of fish in my mouth, concentrating on chewing thirty times before swallowing. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen...

“Oh, now you look like a plum. You’re getting darker, Noël.”

I turned my head and chewed while staring out the window. Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-f—

I suddenly lost track of my rhythm, but it didn’t matter. The taste of salmon and potatoes rolled over my tongue and down my throat, but that didn’t matter either. Callie droned on in my ear, comparing me to foods that kept getting redder and redder, but once again, that didn’t matter. I squinted to focus better. Was I really seeing what I was, or was there something wrong with...my...

The train of thought took a wrong turn and plummeted over the side of the tracks.

They were standing on the other side of the street—or rather, one of them was. The other was quickly crossing to meet him, his stride bouncy and eager, like he’d waited all day to get to this moment. Even though he was built tall and thin like a skyscraper, he moved with incredible grace.

“—getting even darker! I didn’t think that was possible! So un-Christmas-like, Noël, despite your—”

I tuned her out.

The tall man had reached the other, who had his arms outstretched. The tall one clasped him to his chest in a tight embrace, swinging the pair of them around in a half-circle, stopping just under a streetlight. He bent to murmur something in his partner’s ear, and the light caught his face. I nearly choked on my dinner—it was the waiter.

The other man shifted into the light, too.

The valet.

I forced myself to start breathing again. They both looked so happy, standing there together. The dark-haired waiter played with the scarf the valet had donned, listening intently as the smaller male said something. He moved his hands around wildly to punctuate a phrase, but before he could finish his gesture, the waiter ducked in and cut him off with his mouth.

My face heated again but I couldn’t look away.

The taller man trapped the valet to his lithe frame, his fingers coursing down the curve of his back to entangle themselves in the fabric of the man’s jacket. The valet cradled the back of his head, pulling him nearer, deepening the kiss, flattening himself tightly to his partner. The waiter slid his hands over the curve of his hips, slipping into valleys belonging to him and him alone. I could imagine the valet moaning, a plea for more—more touching, more kissing, more attention from the man he loved more than anything. I could imagine him grinding his hips tighter to his lover, begging for him to take him away and relieve the tension of being separated for a day. I could imagine my partner’s fingers running over my body, touching me, stroking me in places I wouldn’t let anyone else think about, let alone lavish with absolute adoration and l—

Whoa. Whoa.

Where did that come from?

My partner? Touching me? Stroking me? What was going on with my—

Callie chose that time to interject and ruin the rest of the night.

“What is it? What are you staring at?” Callie peered first at me, then out the window. “I don’t see anything...oh.” Her eyes narrowed to the point where I could hardly see the ring of blue around her pinpoint pupils. The men had pulled deeper into the shadows, but they were still locked at the lips and clutching one another close—oblivious to their surroundings—and I had no doubt my “date” had seen them.

I tried to save myself. “Staring? I wasn’t staring, I was just...um...” I laughed nervously and fidgeted with a white frill-edged napkin.

Her voice was ice cold. “You were just staring.”

“What? No—”

“At two guys sucking face across the street.”

“Um, I—”

“You disgust me.”

The sentiment was sudden, just as sudden as Callie slamming her palms flat on the table and making a huge noise that seemed to echo throughout the entire restaurant. I squeaked and leaped back in my chair, colliding with the carved back at a momentum that nearly sent me rocketing backwards into the group behind us. My reaction had been as she’d planned—Callie snatched up her bag, shoved her own chair aside, and stormed off into the sea of customers.

I stared after her, my mouth hanging open, my mind drawing a complete blank. What had just happened? Why was Callie waking away from me? Where did she think she was...oh.

Something finally clicked and I shot up from my chair, alarm and a need to catch the damn woman pounding through me. She’d noticed me watching those men. She’d noticed me watching them intently, like I wanted to be in their position instead of my own. She knew my dirty little secret.

My train of thought faltered there. Was it a secret? Wait...what was I thinking about again? Something tickled my memory, something about cold, and snow, and trees, and the sound of a young boy singing in the winter—

Someone tapped me on the shoulder and stuck their mouth real close to my ear. I started, the world returning and the memory slipping away, attempting to say something—like how I didn’t have time to chat because my “girlfriend” thought I was a creeper and I needed to find her before she told all her friends and ruined my life forevermore—but whoever it was beat me to the words. I turned and glared at him, waiting for him to get it over with.

It was a man—no, scratch that, a boy, and a boy that was very obviously up-to-date on the current druggie fascinations, too. His breath reeked of some joint he probably just finished smoking, and he had a wild, spacey look about him. I could just imagine him stopping mid-phrase to say, “Wow! Look at all the pretty colors...”

The image making me uncomfortable, I opened my mouth again to politely decline his nearness—Callie was getting farther and farther away—but stopped myself. For the sake of courtesy.

“Sorry to bother you,” said the drug-stinking, spacey-looking, face-in-my-ear kid. “But are you gay?”

I spluttered in absolute shock. My entire stomach-heart area gave a strange, familiar, forlorn jolt. Had he seen it too? “E-excuse me?!”

“Are you gay?”

“Wh-why would you even ask such a—”

“Jeez, dude, it’s just a simple question...”

I glared even harder. “Yes, but it’s a simple question that could offend a ton of people! Now, if you excuse me, I have to go save my reputation from being shattered into a million tiny pieces!”

He smiled and nodded like we were old friends sharing an inside joke. “Because you’re gay.”

Outrage flared within me. I let loose a yowl of frustration, and the kid’s buddies—who had been laughing and murmuring amongst themselves the whole time—snickered and jeered at me, their spacey-looking eyes wandering places they never should wander again. One guy starting drooling while looking at goodness-knows-what, and one person—I couldn’t decide whether male or female—slumped and appeared to be unconscious. Where its head used to be, I watched Callie slip out of the crowd and stomp toward the front doors. In less than a minute, she’d be gone.

My patience was at its very end. If I didn’t catch Callie soon, I’d start ripping people from limb to limb.

“This conversation is over.”

I twisted away from the druggie and fled as fast as I could until the resounding chorus of “Hey, dude, gay dude, what about us, dude?” faded into the background. The people amongst the crowd pushed and jostled me, all elbows and no patience, and I found myself snarling at strangers quite a bit more than I should have been. I was somewhat shocked at my indifference to their reactions, but I had a woman to catch.

I trapped her just before she climbed into a cab.

“Callie. Callie! Wait up, you goddamn—”

She whirled around, and the words died in my throat. “Fuck off, Noël.”

I bristled, but kept heading her way. “No way. You owe me an explanation. What happened back there? Why did you—”

“I could ask you the same thing, myself.”

“Stop cutting me off—”

“Make me.”

“Seriously!”

“Seriously.” Callie turned away and started to climb back into the car. “You’re the last person I want to see right now. In fact, you’re the last person I want to see for at least fifteen years. I knew something wasn’t right with you. I knew it.”

That last part was more to herself than me, but I still took offense. Excuse me, I still took even more offense. “Something wrong with me? Who’s the one running out of restaurants without any reason?”

Callie turned cold eyes on me, but she was no longer interested in this exchange. “Don’t get me wrong, Noël. I had a reason. Now get the fuck away from me, I’m going home.”

“Oh, no, you’re not.” Before she could protest, I snatched her elbow and tugged her just hard enough to offset her balance, then released her and scampered around the tail end of the cab before she could right herself. I popped open the door and slipped inside. It was childish, I knew, but I needed an explanation, if more for myself than her.

Callie opened her door and glared at me through the opening. Her eyes were full of angry blue fire, and I shivered in spite of myself. “What are you doing?”

I assumed her tip-top, righteous, I’m-the-queen-of-the-world tone of voice. “Nothing. I just want to go home.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Then get your own cab.”

“No.”

“Noël...“

I flinched slightly at the warning in her tone, but I didn’t move. Instead, I reached around for the seatbelt and clicked it into its clip, as if to say, “I’m not going anywhere.”

To my surprise, Callie didn’t protest farther. She climbed in right beside me and followed my example. “So that’s how you’re going to play, is it?” she muttered.

I didn’t bother trying to hide the icy smile that brushed my lips.

“Then let the games begin.”

“Noël. Noël? Noël, you goddamn fool, I’m talking to you!”

I blinked back to reality, the grasps of the past slipping away. “Huh?”

Callie roared in frustration. Immediately, my aggravation with her started to ride up out of control. “Oh. My. God. You’re such an ass! This is so like you, Noël, so very like you. I tell you to do something, you mutter a barely intelligible half-response, then you go right back to dragging your knuckles around and forgetting every piece of half-important information I’ve ever told you. And you wonder why I’m always throwing shit at you.”

The aggravation flared into flat-out rage. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dragging my knuckles? You make me sound like a thick-headed thug or a...or a Neanderthal or something.”

She simply stared at me, and when she finally responded, her words crept across the street like tendrils of ice just waiting to wring the life out of me. “Out of all I just said and more, that’s what you choose to focus on.” Callie shook her head. “I should’ve known.”

“I’m done with this.” I turned around and started to walk toward my house.

And just like that, the loathing returned. “No, that’s right, you can’t be dragging your knuckles around. Because you know why? You’re too gay for that.”

I froze in my tracks. “What did you just say?”

“You’re gay, Noël, gayer than a daffodil, gay as the noonday sun, gay as a fucking faggot that goes around sticking his dick in places a dick never should have been introduced to. You’re sick. You’re disgusting. I can’t believe I ever agreed to go out with you. Your kind should be wiped from this fucking planet with a filthy kitchen sponge!”

“How dare you!” I spun on my heel and stalked up to her, with no thought for my safety or the safety of all mankind from that point on. “My kind? There’s no harm in being different, Cassie! So what if there are men who have different preferences? So what if—”

“Oh, shut up, already! You know it, I know it, the whole fucking world knows it!” Whereas I had been pushing her toward the sidewalk, Cassie started pushing me back toward the street. It was all-out war. “You’re unnatural, filthy, absolutely disgusting. I saw you watching those guys in the street—even before dinner, too! You were practically drooling all over your salmon—which, by the way, you didn’t pay for—and dry-humping the table leg!”

“How dare you!”

“You’re repeating yourself a lot.” Callie laughed, a short, shrieking sound that pierced my ears and made me want to clutch my head in pain. “I’m getting to you, aren’t I? I can keep going if you want. I know all about your disgusting ways. I talk to your friends. I’ve spoken with your mother. I know everything, Noël, everything. D’you remember a boy named Adrian? I heard he was your first—at thirteen! You were such a fucking faggot whore growing up, weren’t you? I bet it wasn’t just a kiss. I bet you loved him. I bet you wanted to fuck him. I bet you wanted to—hey!”

I wanted to snatch her up like a doll and shake her until she gagged on the organs trying to fly out of her mouth. I wanted to bash her skull in with a baseball bat and dump her down the sewer. I wanted to stab her again and again with a butter knife and laugh as she bled. My want was so strong, my throat went dry and my vision flared bright, blazing red. I worked my jaw to control my rage. But the mention of Adrian caused all that to spiral in on me, crashing through my anger with a battering ram so strong it destroyed all the walls I’d built in the last five years, unleashing fits of emotion and questions that I’d hidden even from myself. The agony hit me first—fresh, jolting, physical pain that made me want to curl up in a ball and cry—then the anger and confusion. It was like a tidal wave had slammed into me and no matter how hard I struggled, I couldn’t get away.

Callie completely forgotten, I floundered in my pain, barely aware of my feet turning me and parading me back toward the house. Fresh tears slipped from under my closed lids, streaking my cheeks as I clutched at my sides, as if to keep myself from falling to pieces. I stumbled up the porch steps, but collided with something before I could make it to the door. Another burst of white-hot pain shot through me and I shoved the thing aside, hearing it tip and collide heavily with the aged wood of the porch surface. I stumbled to the door and shoved my way inside.

As I made my escape, I caught flashes of standard brown paper, packing tape, and mailing labels—a package.

Ooh, a package on Christmas Eve, who knew?

I stumbled inside and shut the door on the world.

I’d deal with the package later.

Merry Christmas to me.