David hugs


It started out the same; the usual 'how are you's and the same magical smile that swept me away every time I saw him. It made me think, "He's something special, I feel it.' 

He wasn't much, he would say; I would say he can make something of himself if he'd stop doubting. 

David's hugs don't sell themselves short. You'd be lucky enough to receive a hug. I was one of the lucky ones. See, I had a few issues back then like seeing my parents constantly fight at home and being put down by a few 'friends' in church, which is very ironic because church-kids were taught to 'love thy neighbour'. Anyways, he'd see me get very down such as not fully participating in very heated discussions. He knew I loved conversations like that. You can say that I love him, I do. However David's not the touchy-feely type so I don't say a word other than 'thanks' that replaced tons of words I wished I would've said. Then again, we shouldn't think about the things we should've or would've. 

In any case, David would bring me into his hugs; an arm would go around my shoulders then he'd squeeze me a little as he coaxed me into his embrace. We were in high school then. He was a goofy, dedicated student whom sung too often for a normal person. 

No one knew what his next step would be after we all had the biggest shock of our lives: seeing the shy 16-year old boy up on stage on our television screens. Before he mysteriously took off, he had given me a nice warm hug. I accepted it; of course, I'd be an idiot to turn it down. I love him and his hugs very much. From time to time I would wonder if I was the last person he had hugged before venturing out to a new world in his life. Maybe I was. I didn't ask though. 

Throughout his entire stardom, I felt proud because I was right in believing that he was (and still is) something special. 

When he finally had time to actually call me up and that was the Fall of 2009, I was already a graduated student, he too probably was. I heard he went to prom with this Vietnamese girl called Fish or something; while I wasn't present for the silly formal, I was in my room typing away all my college applications. 

I was home whilst waiting for letters of acceptance or rejection, I would often think about his hugs and how they've comforted me over the years.  The thing about David's way of comforting is the fact that never said anything other than 'come here' or 'I'm sorry' (which was strange because it was never his fault) and he'd extend his arm out, that's when I come in. I never cried, if you think about it long enough. My parents have issues with one another and having them tell me that their problems were the least of mine didn't help much. 

I've learned to forget it, actually but that doesn't mean it didn't plague my mind at all. 

In short, I found comfort in David through his small gestures. When my chin was resting on his shoulder, sometimes I'd mouth 'I love you' to him. I still wonder whether he had felt my jaws going up and down awkwardly since he never asked. 

I decided that it was time David and I rekindled our friendship over a meal. He had gotten slightly chubbier than I last saw him. He talked about how great touring, singing, recording and writing were. I was thrilled to hear that he was living out his dream. Somehow I wonder if he liked being that busy. Without asking he said, "But the schedules are very hectic and... They confuse me sometimes." He shook his head. 

Then he directed the topic to me. I went about my college applications and what my future will consist of. He nodded constantly, saying how great that sounded and whatnot. He hadn't changed a bit. After the meal, he hugged me. This time without gesturing me into his grasp. I wrapped my arms around his stocky build and said, "I missed you like crazy. I hope you do well."

He laughed, like the usual. When I said I missed him, I really mean I missed him. I missed how he threw his head back and howled with bashful laughter. Especially the way his eyes squinted whenever he giggled. 

That was, again, the last time I saw him in 2009. 

It left me wondering if I will live my live continuously without David popping up by my side every now and then rather to have him ghost in and out in the obscure chapters in my life. I would be lying if I said I'd rather have him be completely absent from my life. 

In 2010, he got more time in Utah. I got more time in college just two states away. Also, he doesn't know. I was afraid to update him with my life. He rarely checks into Facebook to play FarmVille anymore; what more can I say about reading my updates?  

He was off my mind then when I was majoring in Law. I was going to be in college for about seven consecutive years and this was what I've chosen to go with. David, frankly, is the least of my worries. My parents decided to call it quits on their marriage. So they divorced five months after David started texting me again. I'm glad they split. They were both too unhappy with each other. While that was going on, I had an attachment at the courthouse to fill up my sociology assignment. I had to watch real life court cases in session as my phone vibrated the hours away and all the messages were, of course, from David. Undoubtedly, I promised him I would fly back real soon to get together with him again but I didn't. Soon was an understatement. 

Later in the year, David started flying to the state I was in. I didn't make the effort to find him for I was swamped with more attachments to law firms. He probably knew how busy I was and I knew how busy he was too. So we both stayed busy until I bumped into him at a doughnut store on a Tuesday. 

He hugged me, as usual, but tighter than I remembered. I'm not sure if I was me or him that the hug was longer than normal. For a moment, I did miss him. The realization of my withdrawals of David had delayed themselves so they decided to rush through my brain rapidly the moment he started talking to me. This wasn't relief at all, this was guilt. Even though I had the excuse for not trying to hang out with him, I still felt bad. David had always been there for me and that was a selfish move to not repay him all the hours we had spent together. 

"I see you're a very busy lawyer in-the-making!" he chirped. I laughed a little and nodded. 

After that I apologized for being too busy to even text him a chunk of text over the phone. He shrugged it off, saying it was no big deal. Lately he had been having more free time around in Utah since he had left his record label. It was 2011 then. He said the label was very... assertive and not willing to respect him as a singer and song-writer. After we caught up, he hugged me with one arm once more before leaving. 

"I miss you, we need more time together," he smiled at me. My heart cracked just a tad bit. 

Since that day, I made a commitment to myself to constantly remember that David is out there, waiting for me to ask if he would like to hang out. So every semester break, I'd pack up my work and fly over to Utah just to hang out with him for the week. 

His hugs were more now. One day I asked him what's with all the hugs, he said, "I think it's a habit. I've always been getting hugs from my fans and I would hug them back. I don't know, but I guess it's just that I missed you too much."

I rested my cheek on his shoulder once more, pondering over his words. I was prepared to live a life of grey when I started taking up Law as a career path. I learned that sadness took in all kinds of forms. However, in my book, this one was the one that put me into depression more. 

As I was musing over my life choices, I felt another arm going around my lower torso. 

He was giving me a two-armed hug for the first time in years. He never gave two-armed hugs, for all I know. 

I pushed my worries aside then brought myself closer to him. It was that comfort again with something a little different. Warmth brewed in my stomach and I wanted to see him more often from then and there. 

The more we saw each other, the longer and tighter the hugs get together, with the less words he said. 

In late winter of 2011, in Salt Lake City, a crying David bore himself to me in the sea of spotlights and on a stage in front of a rejoicing crowd. 

"I've chosen to serve." 

The four simple words that got the entire building shaking with emotion as his face faltered at the sight of the reactions. 

Back home after the emotional night, David came into the room I was staying in at 3 in the morning. I lived quite a distance from his home so I thought this would be urgent rather than ringing me up on my phone. 

He invited himself in before I could. He spent the ungodly hours pacing around the floor, muttering while I cuddled myself with my blankets. The radiator buzzed monotonously. 

"I'm doing the right thing, right?" he bit his index finger and his other hand fiddled with the hem of his jacket. 

"Yes, now go home," I said. 

He stopped pacing around on the carpeted floor then sat next to me on my bed. David looked straight into my eyes. In a few moments, I was drenched in David's pool of hazel eyes. Veins of red appeared in the little corners of his eyes. I wasn't worried for him because he was more worried about himself making a decision he still had mixed feelings about. 

"The reason why I wanted to hang out with you more is to salvage the time I had left with you and my family. I don't want to be in the middle of my mission suddenly regretting for all the time I could've spent with you and my family. I wouldn't know what I'd do with myself if that happened." He breathed in a mouthful of air. 

I pulled myself toward him, sighing. David had a strong and good heart. He corralled me slowly with his thick arms. I felt drowsy nevertheless he was in trouble and I didn't want to make him feel left out. 

I felt him tighten his grip, letting me feel the scent of ginger through his shirt.

"I love you."

I didn't say anything except for stroking his back slowly until my vision blurred. 

That was the last time I received a hug from him in two years. 

Children & Christmas


            I left our little Madeline in the hands of my grandmother, mom and sisters. They went out to have a last minute Christmas shopping with her. My wife and I were left in my parents’ house to make sure everything’s good to go for the family’s Christmas dinner.

            Whilst I was in the middle of helping my wife check the food, my sisters come in.

            “Wasn’t that fun, Maddy?” I heard Jazzy’s voice cooing to my five-year old daughter.

            I walked out of the kitchen to see my sisters’ arms occupied by plastic bags. My daughter was the first one to greet me.

            “Daddy!” she cried. Jazzy let her down onto the ground and she ran up to me as fast as she could go on those two stubby legs. I crouched down to welcome her in my arms; she buried her face in my chest. I lifted her up and started talking to my sisters.

            “So how was the shopping?”

            Madeline tightened her arms around my neck, pressing her chubby cheek onto mine.

            “Great! We bought loads of stuff for her,” Amber grinned.

            “Wait, you mean for Madeline?” I asked.

            “Yeah!” Jazzy replied with glee. “Look!” She gestured the big bags at me.

            “Guys, you’re not supposed to spoil my daughter this way. It’s really sweet, but that’s way too much stuff,” I shook my head.

            “It’s okay, Daddy. You can have some of my stuff,” Madeline squeaked.

            My sisters laughed in a chorus then went into the living room to settle down. My mom came in with my grandmother after that.

            “Aw, little Madeline, you look precious!” my mom approached her, squeezing her cheeks. I didn’t understand why she said that because obviously my mom had spent her entire day with her.

            “Thank you, abuelita,” she mumbled then received a kiss on the cheek from my mom. I brought my daughter into the kitchen after greeting my grandmother.

            “Mommy…” Madeline called out to my very pregnant wife who was arranging the lettuce on a plate.

            “Hi, Madeline!” my wife chirped, stopping her work then carried her away from my arms. Madeline is placed on the kitchen counter. “Did you have fun?”

            Our daughter nodded eagerly.

            I glanced over at my wife. Her long shiny hair trailed down beyond her shoulder blades and her belly bulging out. We’re excited for this baby; we told the doctor to not reveal the baby’s gender. Either way, I’ll love it just as much as I love my two favourite girls.

            “How about you go sit down with Madeline?” I placed my hand on her back as she continued on to lay out lettuce.

            She gave me a smile.

            “How ‘bout you go sit down with Madeline?” she said.

            “You’re pregnant. I think you should lie down,” I insisted. She dropped what she was doing, gave me a peck on the cheek then carried away Madeline into the living room.

            My mom came in with my grandmother after that. They started to talk to me about the new baby coming in a two more months. Yes! Our baby’s going to be a February baby! I think it’s a nice month (not because Valentine’s Day falls in it).

            They helped me out with the food. In no time, everything’s prepared. I walked into the room where my wife, Madeline and my dad sit in. They were conversing about Madeline.

            “So, Madeline, what do you like to do for fun?” my dad asked her. Madeline liked to shy away from my dad most of the time; the few guys she opens up to wholly are me and Daniel. She loves Daniel very much. Once my brother volunteered to babysit her while my wife and I were gone for work out of state. When I came back first, Madeline couldn’t stop talking about how funny ‘Uncle Daniel’ was and how he would let her do anything her heart desired.

            “I like… listening to music…” she crawled around the couch, finding a hiding spot to conceal herself from my dad.

            “Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?” my dad smiles at my wife and she nodded, agreeing.

            “There’s my favourite niece!” Daniel came bursting into the room and tossed Madeline in the air. My daughter’s giggle filled the room, even in the little corners. My brother had grown a lot since high school. His hair was longer, his facial hair started to kick in and he’s taking college music as a major since he loves playing instruments. “You look beautiful today!” he said. She giggled louder.

            My family had a streak for spoiling my kid rotten. Luckily my wife and I agreed to not give her constant treatment. She reeked of havoc when she’s not around my family members and, just me and my wife. Her toys would act as a trail to her whereabouts, she would lead Chubby the Corgi to really strange places in the house and she would bother me when I’m writing in my music room. Trust me when I say that I don’t enjoy reprimanding my wonderful, hyperactive daughter. Discipline is discipline after all.

            “Thank you, Uncle Daniel, you look handsome today too!” she squeaked, still panting from her giggle fit when she’s brought into my brother’s arms.

            “May I?” Daniel turned around to ask for my permission to carry my daughter to wherever around the house. I nodded, of course. Then Daniel whisked my daughter away out into the porch, leaving me, my wife and dad sitting in the living room. We had the big old Christmas tree fixed up too. I caught my wife losing herself into the stream of twinkling lights. I decided to take my place next to her.

            “How’re you feeling?” I asked my wife, sounding rather concerned. The more months she’s into the pregnancy, the more she’s been having morning sickness. For the past 3 months, she was admitted to the hospital because of it. I didn’t want her to feel left out on this ‘strange’ pregnancy. To add more onto the load of morning sickness is the ongoing headaches. The most recent one was last night. Since we’re in Murray and not Salt Lake for Christmas, we stayed in my parents’ house. So last night she kept moaning about how she kept seeing stars whenever she opened up her eyes. Of course, I did give her some pills but that didn’t seem to work out for her.

            “Fine,” she strokes her swollen belly. “A little woozy though.”

            “Don’t…”

            “Hurt yourself. I get it,” she placed her hand on mine and I grabbed it, squeezing it tight.

            Think about it: two kids, running around in the house when they’re toddlers. When they hit their pre-teen age, they’ll start bickering and bringing us gigantic headaches. Finally when one goes off to study for college, everything starts to fall in place—they’ll miss one another and all that. My wife and I have decided to let our kids be Mormon eventhough she isn’t one. She wanted our kids to be just like me—wise beyond their ages and passionate. Madeline is already baptised. Next is the little life inside of my wife.

            “I need to go lie down on the bed, David, would you walk me?” she tugged on my arm a little.

            “Of course,” I whispered. We stood up and I rested my hand on her back, supporting her build.

            “You’re doing the ‘trying to be the best husband’ thing right, just so you know,” she joked. I kissed her forehead as we walked (more like waddled) into the foyer.

            I led her up the wooden staircase slowly. She lifted one leg after the other after trying to balance herself onto the steps.

            “Man, I’m huge,” she mumbled to herself (or me).

            “Yeah, you kinda are,” I chuckled. She shot me a look.

            “Thanks, I needed to hear that,” she sarcastically replies. Goodbye ‘trying to be the best husband’ streak.

            We went into our room where the bed is unmade and clothes were everywhere. First thing she did was to wait for me to lie her down since she couldn’t plop herself onto the bed, afraid that the baby might kick her hard. I held her hand as she slowly rests her head onto the pillows.

            “David, I hate headaches,” she groaned, squeezing my hand tighter. Sometimes I felt bad because this baby is giving her twice the trouble when Madeline was in her belly. I managed to pull myself closer to her, sitting on the bed right by her side.

            “Do you need-”

            “Those things are no good for me!” she cried. “David, it hurts—my head hurts really badly.”

            I kept quiet, hoping the headache would calm if I don’t make a peep. She kept quiet too. We basked in the silence with our hands interlocked with each other.

            “Is everything okay in there?” I heard my mom pass our room then stopped immediately on her tracks to see my wife on the bed, trying to withstand the banging in her head.

            “Yeah,” I said to her. I was trying to keep my volume at a constant minimum. “Headaches again.”

            Then she walked away (with her footsteps sounding as gentle as the rain) to the living room to set up the table.

            “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. This makes one more child to spoil!” my dad laughed out of nowhere (I think he was saying that to my wife? I don’t recall my dad ever calling me ‘sweetheart’). I jumped and turned my attention back to the doorway; he was holding Madeline. I told him that she’s having a headache but he didn’t mind at all. I couldn’t argue that time because he’s been with my mother through over five pregnancies, and headaches, probably, were the least of his concerns. I glanced back to my worn out wife.

            She beamed at me with tired eyes.

            “One more child to spoil,” she murmured to me with lips curved upwards.

            My dad constantly reminded me that having a kid will be worthwhile and that’s what kept me going. I looked back at my dad and Madeline, she looked as happy as ever.

            “C’mon, Daddy, we’re going to unwrap presents soon!” she said to me.

            “We’ll be there in a minute,” I replied. After that the two headed off downstairs yelling, “Yay presents!”
            

Merry Christmas


            Gingerbread houses, fruit cake, eggnog, candy canes and Christmas trees; it’s Christmas season: a time for giving and celebrating Christ’s birth. After a mass on Christmas Eve, my family and I rush home to prepare for tomorrow’s celebration. Guess who I’m inviting; I’m inviting the girl who has been with me ever since high school. Yeah, that’s her. It’s our first Christmas together since I got back.  And yes, I did get her a present! Daniel bought a box of mistletoe.

            “In case a few ladies would want some of me,” he winks then runs up the stairs.

            My brother’s weird but I hate to admit, I might snag one of those. Please don’t ask why, it’ll make me feel even more uncomfortable.

            Every year, my family throws this Christmas party for some of the neighbours and family friends. It’s very fun, and I can’t wait until she comes over.

            My dad and I help out with the finishing touches of the decorations in our living room and foyer for tomorrow. My mom is very laid back with the décor, maybe that’s because we’re doing it and she trusts our judgement.

            In my room, I hop into my pyjamas after stripping off my church out then drift off into a dreamless sleep.

            The next day is rather hectic compared to last night. Amber and Jazzy are running across the slippery tiled floors, running back and forth with ornaments dangling around their bodies. Teddy, the family’s poodle, settles himself down on a carpet by the fire, doing absolutely nothing other than breathing and napping.

            “No, no, they go here, honey.” I hear my mom directing my sisters.

            “Oh okay,” Jazzy answers obediently, climbing onto a little ladder and hanging up streamers onto the line of intersection between the ceiling and wall.

            “Perfect.” My mom’s face is gladdened.

            Meanwhile, a roast is cooking in the oven and the giant crock pot is bubbling over a stove. It smells like Christmas; the smell of fresh pinecones and ginger filling the entire house fluently through the archways. The fire crackles from time to time, begging for more logs. Outside is cold and bright; normal for a winter afternoon.

            My sisters are in baggy sweaters and skinny jeans. Each sweater has a picture of a reindeer with a big red nose; matching sweaters I may say.

            “Nice sweaters,” I say as I walk pass them to kiss my mom on the cheek.

            “Oh shut up, we were forced to wear them,” Amber sticks her tongue out at me jokingly.

            “Stop bickering, back to work,” my mom pesters them.

            “Can I help?” I offer though I look very unpresentable—bed hair, saggy pants and dry throat.

            “It’s all right. Go wash up, there are still more things to prepare. And your sweater is in the bathroom. The dark blue one,” my mother flashes her thin-lipped smile at me. I nod then go upstairs, scratching my head.

            In the bathroom, I find a sweater hanging by the towel rack with a post-it note: David. That’s mine and it’s dark blue. I’m more of a light blue guy, but I guess this can work. Next to mine is Daniel’s and it’s in the colour of moss green.  After a hot shower, I put on a while tank top, then squeeze my head through the stretchy hole of the sweater. When I face the mirror, my sweater has a kitty cat on it and like my sisters, has a giant nose popping out and black whiskers made from yarn.

            I walk out of the bathroom, earning a breathless laugh from Daniel as it is his turn to take a shower.

            “Okay, who picked the sweaters this year,” I come down, announcing to the entire room. My sisters stop hanging up the streamers to look at me then they burst into laughter, holding each other so they won’t topple off the ladder.

            “I picked that especially for you, big brother because I love you oh so much,” Amber cackles.

            Just then my mom comes into the conversation, gasping, “Oh, look at you! If only I made you wear that when you were 12! Don’t you look handsome!” She walks over to me to squeeze my cheeks.

            “I’m 23, news flash,” I cough.

            “Scratch that; 24 in 3 more days!” my dad comes into the conversation. Snow sits on his shoulders as he holds a few cables. I believe he’s fixing up the outdoor Christmas lights.

            ‘Joy To the World’ is playing on the home stereo system in the living room, behind the huge Christmas tree with an angel on the top.

            I help myself to a box of streamers and start hanging them up where my mom instructed me to hang. Through the windows, I aimlessly watch the snowflakes gracefully falling from the sky and land on the driveway where my dad is shovelling snow to the side.

            “Santa hats, everybody!” Daniel yells from the stairs, holding a handful of Christmas hats. “Work, my elves!”

            He puts the bright red hats onto my sisters then on me. I fix mine. He has a Santa hat on his head already. My mom willingly wears one too then laughs.

            I love Christmas.

            We prepare until 6 PM. The sun has already gone by then. The roast is almost ready, the crock pot is whistling away and the entire kitchen is a battlefield with my mom and sisters in it.

            I help my dad and Daniel fix up the Christmas tree and arrange the Christmas presents under them.

            “Nice sweater, David,” my dad compliments me (more of a tease).

            “Thanks, it’s starting to grow on me,” I manage to smile, playing along with his game.

            Daniel snorts from the other side of the tree, “Are you kidding me? That is a girl’s sweater.”

            “Excuse you, what did you get then?” I spew my words out like venom.

            His head and body out peeks from the tree, smiling and showing me his moss green sweater decoration with a dog’s face with its reddish tongue sticking out.

            “Face,” he mouths, placing his hand over his face.

            “Hey, behave. Your sister is coming to visit with Adam, so I expect both of you to act like men,” my dad advises us.

            Claudia is coming with Adam to the Christmas gathering. I haven’t seen her in ages ever since she moved in with him. I miss her terribly.

            The home stereo starts to play ‘Angels We Have Heard on High’ above the fire place. I hear my mom carolling from the end of the hallway, I carol along with her. Soon my dad joins in, then two shrill voices ring from the hallway while my brother mumbles the lyrics a little bit.

            Soon the cats, Katsu and Tsuki, walk into the room and meow along with us. The house is filled with Christmas spirit instantaneously. I’ve never been so glad to be home after a long comeback Christmas tour. My kitty cat sweater seems to grow on me completely. I’m starting to like the loose whiskers dangling on it.

            After hours and hours of labour, the kitchen is finally cleaned up and the dishes are lined up on the counter by courses. The dining table is extended with more tables and chairs. The room has never looked so crammed.

            The first person to arrive is Claudia and Adam. We greet them with bear hugs each. Claudia, as usual, makes fun of my sweater.

            “I picked it out!” Amber chirps from the huge crowd around them.

            “Very smart. You’re doing well at filling my shoes,” Claudia nods in approval. I laugh bashfully. Claudia used to take advantage of my innocent nature to trick me. I don’t mind with the practical jokes, it’s like a training ground for the outside world. Once I was on tour with Demi Lovato and she came bursting through my room, ready to pull a prank on me. Fortunately, I didn’t buy it then she felt bad then left. It took her 5 seconds to leave after I said, “What did I do wrong?!”

            After taking off their coats, Claudia proceeds to the kitchen while my dad keeps Adam entertained with a drink. I still wait for her. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when I give her her present.
  
            Gradually, the house is filled with my relatives. I kiss my aunts on their cheeks, I shake my uncles’ hands and welcome them and no sign of her yet so I stay by the living room, listening to my uncle’s stories about his travels around the globe.

            Then my neighbours start to appear and hot drinks are passed around. I help myself to tea. Chocolate gets me really jumpy, I don’t want to get jumpy when I hang out with her. She’d shoot me a look if I do.

            “Let’s play David’s Christmas album!” one of my aunts exclaims. I start to walk out of the living room after I say, “May I be excused?” I don’t like listening to myself even after years of singing, I don’t. It’s weird, I sound nasally.

            I seek refuge to my mother. Unfortunately she’s too occupied with her daughters so I walk upstairs to see my brother combing his hair in his room.

            “Hey, Daniel,” I knock at his door. He turns around.

            “Oh, it’s Kitty.” He resumes styling his hair.

            “Listen, can I get one of your mistletoe?”

            A smirk starts to form on his face as if he has cheated his way through high school and never got caught.

            “What’s in it for me?” he says.

            “Me as your loving brother. That’s it.”

            “What’s in it for me?” he repeats his question.

            I sigh in defeat. “Unlimited access to the bathroom in the mornings.”

            “And?”

            There’s more!?

            “What else is there, Daniel?” I ask.

            “Uh, to stop singing after 10 PM?” he says obnoxiously.

            “Fine. Do we have a deal?”

            “Take one, not more,” he waves at the little box on his desk. I help myself to one and say thanks on my way out. In the living room, I see my family and a few more neighbours sitting by the fireplace listening to stories with hot mugs in their hands.

            I keep the mistletoe in my pocket to avoid any suspicion. Apparently, they haven’t been playing my album. I feel like I’ve been tricked again for the second time today.

            I keep myself busy, looking for a location to hang up the mistletoe, wasting absolute precious time.

            Then, “hey!” comes from my back.

            I jump in the middle of my search to see a brown-haired girl with a wide grin on her face greet me. She pulls me into a rib-crushing hug.

            “What are you wearing?!” she laughs at my kitty cat sweater.

            My cheeks start to get hot real quick.

            “Oh, Amber… picked it out especially for me,” I laugh along with her, “I like it though!”

            “Yeah, very cute,” she twirls the loose ends of the whiskers.

            Shortly, we’re called for dinner. The roast is amazing along with the casseroles and the crock pot. My family loves to give out ample supplies of freshly cut fruit, so we hand them out without a care. The plates are returned empty, wiped clean.

            As soon as the guests and my family are directed to the living room to unwrap their presents, I drag her away from the bustling scene after getting hold of her present.

            “Isn’t my present in there?” she questions me as I bring her into the tool shed (more like a little room with tools in them, it’s located in the very back of the house after the kitchen) where it is serene. From the little foggy window, I see the bright yellow light of the living room radiate.

            “It’s too noisy there,” I tell her. Next I bring up her present; a fairly medium sized box wrapped in lime green wrapping paper and a purple ribbon around it. Her eyes go wide and her mouth flings open.

            “Oh, what could it be?” she shakes it, placing her ear next to the wall of the box.

            “Open it,” I suggest.

            So she does—gingerly untying the bow and tearing the paper apart. She lifts the lid to unveil the Christmas present, gasping.

            “It’s perfect, David. Thank you,” she places her hands on the left side of her chest with a touched expression upon her face. I got her a compact atlas. The one she was drooling over at the local bookstore. She couldn’t get it, it was… too pricey at the moment. Since Christmas also brings discounts, I got it for her, assuming she was too busy to care for Christmas shopping. Thus, I don’t expect anything in return. Nothing like a girl who adores books, eh?

            “I got you something too but I didn’t place it under your tree. I wanted to give it to you personally.” She fishes out a thin-looking square out of her bag and hands it to me, gesturing me to unwrap it. So I do.

            It’s a scarf.

            “It gets cold here in Utah. Colder than before,” she walks over to me to wrap the scarf around my neck, “Guess what? I knitted it myself.”

            My heart starts to swell. “That’s really nice of you.”

            “Yeah?” she beams at me.

            “Yeah.”

            I grab her into my arms, feeling the warmth of her body sink into my kitty cat sweater. Her mouth presses against my shoulder. I feel her inhale my scent. In the stuffiness of the shed, it feels warm and relaxing.

            To tell you the truth, we haven’t kissed since the night I got back. You know, the night where she blurted out her love for me. We’ve been hugging things out instead, and I like it. They never get old.

            “You smell like pinecones,” she mumbles.

            “In a good way?” I run my fingers down her back.

            “Definitely in a good way. This is how Winter smells like.”

            I agree.

            We walk back into the kitchen to find pieces of wrapping paper scattered all over the floor and a few kids running around with their presents.

            It’s havoc, I’m telling you. The chatter is getting louder by the second. All the smiling faces are the excuse though. My brother waves at me then gives me a thumb up, thinking that I probably nailed this girl (which I absolutely didn’t. I don’t ‘nail’ girls).

            The kitchen looks empty as I continue to watch the people’s eyes light up along with the Christmas spirit.

            “Did you get anything for your family?” she asks out of nowhere.

            “Of course I did. Daniel, a new joystick; Jazzy, a Legend of Zelda shirt; Amber, more Pokémon cards to add to her collection; my mom, a pair of earrings; and my dad, a Nat King Cole album.”

            I spent a lot of money getting those presents but they’re definitely worth it. I see my sisters screaming over their presents in the corner of the room, seeing my mother say, “Just what I needed!” and my dad laughing at his present—it’s a laugh that says, “He knows me, he really knows me.”

            I decide to open my presents later when everybody’s gone. Right now I’m trying to find a way to plant this mistletoe without her noticing. Afraid she might get lost in the crowd, I tell her to stay put as I go look for Daniel.

            When I do find him, I ask him for a favour. He whines at first, I remind him about the deal we made earlier on so he stops. I ask him to plant the mistletoe anywhere in the house (excluding the bathrooms, you never know what Daniel might be up to). After that he scurries off.

            I beckon her to walk outside of my house with me after a few minutes from being dragged into one conversation to another in the living room. We decide to walk about outside my house starting from my backyard. Snowflakes fall in a small amount.

            One falls on her eyelash, I had to brush it away and watch her cheeks go red.

            “Oops…” she mumbles under the breath, fog puffs from her lips.

            By the time we reach my front porch, I see a little green plant hanging from the long rod by the porch steps. Daniel definitely knows how to plant mistletoe all right.

            I take her hand in mine, coaxing us to the steps. She doesn’t protest.

            We sit by the porch, watching the empty streets light up with the luminaries lined up by the sides of the street. She slowly takes off my Santa hat to place it on her head, smiling at me, “I hope you don’t mind.”

            I shake my head as in no, I don’t mind at all.

            Here we are, sitting below the mistletoe (that rhymed). I wonder if she noticed it yet.

            “Any plans for your birthday?” she starts.

            “Um, well, a cake. That’s it,” I laugh.

            “That’s a shame, I thought, you know-”

            “Throw a party? No way, look at this one,” I point to the commotion inside the house where everyone’s clinking their glasses together. “I want a nice subtle birthday.”

            She nods, “You’re getting old, David.” Here comes the teasing.

            “I don’t mind, another year wiser.”

            That gets her to stop talking all of a sudden, she fumbles with the loose ends of her sweater.

            My heart starts to race faster. I should tell her we’re sitting under the mistletoe. I really want that kiss right now. I’m not supposed to lust over things like these but I really want one right now.

            “Hey… uh… look. I think my brother… planted one of them here,” I point toward the ceiling. She looks up when I do.

            “Oh,” she says in surprise. “I don’t mind.”

            She scoots close to me, snaking her arms around my neck then pulls me in for a kiss. Everything feels very right today. My family getting all festive, getting her the present she’s dreaded for and getting a kiss. Nothing can replace this feeling, ever.

            “Merry Christmas,” she says after that, tugging the hand-knitted scarf.

            I kiss her red-tipped nose.

            “Merry Christmas.”