Author's note: I don't know if I did good but I'm a very harsh critic on myself. I've been planning to do this for a long time and glad that I finally got to spill all the feels into this piece. IF IT'S BAD, THEN DON'T BOTHER. OMG.
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“It’s not going to be too bad,” I say to myself, still lying on bed. The sheets are entangled with my skin. The warmth of the sun breaking through my curtains, I barely slept last night. My throat feels like sandpaper; dry and rough. My arms stretch out, smoothing over the soft canvas of the mattress. I yawn loudly into the silence. Nothing but my nightlight still on and the heater buzzing in the corner.
I lay in silence for a few moments, thinking about nothing, just staring at the ceiling.
You probably think that this is just some kind of pointless sob story. Well, it’s not.
You see, a year ago, I made the biggest mistake I could ever make.
It was Christmas Eve and my family and I were over at my best friend, David’s house. His family was so nice; they invited mine to have a big dinner with them. That night, I wanted to tell him… things.
Oh, how I felt when he was around me. I’m not being cheesy, poetic and all those stupid love things. But really, he just makes me feel… happy. He makes me get away from it all. It’s his nature to be this gentle, warm and caring. Not because it’s what he learnt from his religion, I mean, even if he’s not Mormon I bet he’d still be the same.
He likes—no, loves to sing. He breathes it and lives it.
“I can’t imagine my life without it!” he would say when we complain about his constant singing.
So patient he is. I wonder what his secret to being so patient is—even the biggest slip-ups from me and he’s still cool as a cucumber. I don’t know how but I seem to have been less clumsy when he’s around. Maybe he’s just a reminder to me to not mess up.
He wears a smile, all the time. Rosy-red lips are curved upwards, and the dimples that sink into his skin. It’s refreshing to see him smile especially when he walks into the room. It’s as if the sun just entered. He brings an aura that I never see until now.
So, back to the point: I wanted to tell him how I really felt. I don’t know what hit me because I knew I will never ever have the courage to tell him. I always suspected he had eyes for someone for a long time but it seems that he doesn’t. I don’t get it sometimes. Girls are always at his doorstep even at unnecessary times. Yet he chooses to not throw his line into the sea and catch something.
I rub my eyes and sigh deeply. I prop myself up on my elbows, throw the sheets aside and get out of bed.
What more can I say about David?
He’s always there for me—anyone, really. But he has this ability to make anyone feel special. In return, I do the same. We shared so many memories together; I don’t even know where to start. We knew each other since high school. But he later dropped out because he had to compete on American Idol. He came second but I told him he was my first. All he did was coo and bring me into a long hug that lasted more than two Mississippis.
Then he went off on tour, gone for about a whole year. His life was on the fast track while his friends and I were left doing college.
The American Idol vibe died down after his first album release, he had more down time with us. Usually when he does have down time, he’d be in town for a day, two or three. He uses them up to catch up with family.
I finally got another; David the family man.
He adores his siblings like it’s the only thing he treasures in the world. We would tease about how a mommy’s boy he is and his cheeks would just go extremely pink or red.
Under this whole family man-best friend-amazing singer coat, I’m surprised that he has some depth… I mean, David’s sort of an open book (I’m not calling him transparent but he’s just so easy to read).
I flip on the switch to switch on the lights in the bathroom. The tile floors are cool against the soles of my feet that send shivers to my spine. Stripping off my pyjamas, I entered the shower. Letting the hot water trickle down my bare skin, I continue thinking.
I must’ve gone too far analysing how great David is again. This happens to often and must stop so it won’t be a major part of me.
Well, to cut the story short, I like him. It took a really long time to fully realize I do. Maybe too long.
He had left to serve roughly nine months ago. I still can’t believe he left. Oh no, it’s not dramatic at all—not a ‘love that’ll never happen again’. He does write letters, phone calls or does video conferences with us on special occasions like Mothers' Day. I recently heard from him during Thanksgiving; he sent me a postcard from Chile along with his classic ‘haha’s scribbled all over the place.
And yes, I do like him… A lot, actually.
Saddest part is that he doesn’t know; totally clueless about it. I was about to tell him during his little Christmas Eve party. Before… Before he made the announcement that he had finally decided to serve for the next two years as a missionary.
I’m saying like it’s a bad thing. It’s really not. He’s doing good out there, and I’m proud of him. I remember how the atmosphere was when he broke the news to everyone: pats on the back, long embraces, tight hugs and so many tears of all kinds. I didn’t react. Until today, I still don’t know why I didn’t. I just blindly hugged him like I knew what was going on.
“So, what did you want to tell me again?” he looked at me in the eyes. His eyes were all red from shedding too many tears.
“Nothing, just that this is the greatest Christmas party ever,” I managed to choke out a laugh.
The corners of his lips moved upwards, he cooed and pulled me into another long and tight hug.
All I did was exhale loudly.
The rest of the night was history.
Here I am today, still in college, still doing the same things while he’s in a foreign country ‘doing righteousness in the name of God’—that’s what he describes his journey so far.
Ugh, how I dread celebrating Christmas without him. I don’t hate Christmas at all. It’s just… not the same without David. He always had the Christmas spirit that everyone loved so much. It’s hard to imagine celebrate Christmas without him; let alone actually celebrating Christmas without him.
Since I’m on my winter break, I decided to come back home for Christmas. I’ve missed so much while I was away. My younger sister had lost her tooth a few days ago; my mother had gone to Canada for a business trip two months ago; and my father had gone hiking without me for a couple of times already.
I’m not looking forward to anything more than a family gathering today.
I put on a fresh new set of thick layered clothing then head out of my room to have lunch. As soon as I left the room, the smell of gingerbread travelled down the hall, swirling down by the stairs from the living room.
Must be my sister and mother, I think.
I follow the scent of gingerbread that led me to the kitchen. My mother cleaning the island counters that were coated with flour and baking soda; my sister jumping all over the place with her lips coated with what seem to appear like chocolate ganache.
“Morning, sleepy,” my mother caught the sight of me standing by the archway. I walk over to my sister who stared at me with big eyes.
“Morning,” I solemnly greet. My hands tuck under my sister’s arms, carrying her to the stool and placed her there.
“Why do you look so…” my sister titled her head, her slight brown coloured eyebrows furrowed at me, “blank?”
I forced a faint smile at her, “I’m not.”
The sound of the running tap ceases, the clanking of plates start. My mother’s footsteps thud against the tiled floor.
“Why don’t you go hop around the Christmas tree, honey? Your sister and I need to talk,” my mother says softly as she dries the porcelain plates and bowls. Within a flash, my sister is gone with her chocolate coated lips into the foyer.
My stomach tugged my gullet, telling me it needs food.
“Why are you so glum today?” her tone light as a feather, she stacks up the china by the sink.
“I’m still starting my day, Mom, I’m fine,” I laugh.
She shuffles to the dish rack to place the plates and bowls while she shakes her head in disbelief. I’m not a very good actress?
She approaches me with eyes like daggers. I get my back off the counter to stand in attention.
“No, what’s really going on? It’s Christmas! Spread the joy, not the gloom!” she says with so much liveliness.
“Mom, I’m just starting my day. Relax, I’ll come around,” I reassured her. My arms wrap themselves around me. “I’m hungry, is there food?”
***
“Hurry up!” the girl yells at me, literally jumping on her seat.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I whine as I finish off the last plate and dry my hands with a rag. I walk into the living room where David’s siblings gathered around the long couch. One on the arm rest, the others crammed together to see the computer screen.
The girl with long, silky brown hair hands me her laptop, “I believe this is a private conference.”
I raise an eyebrow at her, “Um, it’s not really necessary, you guys can stay and watch—“
“And watch you talk for hours? No way, man, dessert’s about to come,” says the guy in a cap and hoodie that is leaning on the couch on the armrest.
The two sisters glared at him.
The other sister with long, big black waves looks at me and says, “You go, we’ll call you when dessert’s ready.”
I hesitated but I went along with it, carrying the laptop to my room upstairs. Leaving my door slightly ajar, I carefully place the laptop on my desk and sit. A lump begins to form in my throat. What should I say? What should I not say? Do I look okay?
I have to hurry up; I don’t want to keep him waiting.
Flipping open the screen, there he is. My heart softened suddenly. The smile that I recognized instantly as he turns his head to face the screen, his hair is clean-cut. Looks like his bed hair problems are long gone.
“Hey, you!” he chirps. “Merry Christmas!”
I guffaw before greeting him back.
“Just like old times, huh? Except… I’m not there but a trillion miles away…” he flaps his arm with a crooked smile upon his face.
Maybe I’ll just hold on until he comes back. Good things do come to those who wait after all.