19
‘Wintering’
—The 1975
Lara
I woke up on Christmas morning to my mom shaking me awake. Last night’s events replay in my head as everything comes rushing back.
What time is it? I groan, rolling over to check my alarm clock.
6:45 am.
I am not a morning person.
“Wake up, sleepy head. Everyone else is already out here.”
I drag my feet as I walk to the living room, where there are presents under the tree. The colorful lights reflecting off the wrapping paper. Sitting by the tree is Scotty with a look of longing on his face, like he’s been waiting for me.
“Happy Christmas, Butterfly.” Scotty smiles at me.
I try to smile back, but I can’t force myself to be happy after what happened last night.
“Happy Christmas,” I reply dully because absolutely nothing is happy about this Christmas.
“Okay, time to open presents!” Sabrina says, clapping her hands together. She’s trying to get rid of the awkwardness. “Scott, open that one.” She points to a tall present.
We go through the presents one by one. Wrapping paper rips and bows scatter across the carpet. I get a few books from my parents, I run my hand over the covers, knowing they tried their best, even though we can’t afford much.
Grams gives me a recipe book; she told me it’s a family heirloom that’s been passed down for years.
The pages are worn and full of handwritten notes in the margins.
I give her the biggest hug. Scotty got a lot of sweatshirts and jeans.
I can tell he loves it even though he tries to act casual about it.
The big gift he got from Sabrina was a record player.
His eyes widen when he sees it, then he immediately hugs his mom, lifting her slightly off the ground while she laughs.
Scotty pulls a small velvet box out of his pocket then hands it to me. “I bought this for you.” He says casually.
I take the box out of his hands and open it.
It’s a butterfly necklace.
It’s stunning…
The wings are delicate and shine under the glow of the Christmas lights. For the first time, I didn’t force a smile this morning.
“I hope you like it, Butterfly.” I delicately take it out of the box, and my mom helps me put it around my neck, closing the clasp. I hold the butterfly for a few moments, letting the moment sink in.
“I love it,” I reply. I walk over to him and give him a big hug.
“Look at you two getting along.” My dad says, standing up to ruffle my hair.
“I guess we are.” I shrug. They have no idea about last night.
“I’ll go get your gift,” I tell Scotty. Sabrina and I coordinated our gifts. I hand him the wrapped gift. He tears it open, his eyes widening when he sees The Bends by Radiohead vinyl.
“Thank you, Lara!” He hugs me, squeezing me tightly. I didn’t expect him to like it this much.
“You’re welcome Scotty.” I pull back from the hug, squeezing his arm. I stare into his green eyes, his beautiful green eyes. I can’t be friends with him if I feel like this.
5 years later
‘Picking Petals’
— Alyssa Grace
Scott
I take Lara’s grandpa's red truck and drive as fast as possible without going over the speed limit.
I think about everything: Danny’s crash, the 5 years without Lara, and she still hasn’t moved on from me.
Neither have I. I drive into town. Once I make it to the town plaza, I begin my search to find them.
I check every store, trying to find them until I spot someone in a pink dress and fuzzy white earmuffs.
I stop and just admire her from far away. She’s standing by a fountain, alone. I watch as snow begins falling from the sky, the first snow of the year. I run over to her, my heart pounding against my ribs. She spins around, surprise flashing across.
“What are you doing here?” She asks, staring at me, concerned. I wonder what she’s thinking, what’s on her mind.
I grab her cheek and caress it slightly. “Lara, I need to tell you something.” She doesn’t answer, so I continue. “I love you.”
Her lips part slightly in a small gasp. “What?”
“I didn’t leave you because I stopped loving you,” I say.
“I left because I was scared. Scared of losing everything I worked for… and too much of a coward to be honest with you about it.”
My voice shakes, but I don’t look away. “I know what I feel, and I’m not hiding it anymore. I don’t want to be your fucking friend, I want you.”
And with that, I kiss her. I kiss her for the first time in 5 years.
I kiss her in the middle of the busy plaza.
I know we're getting stares, but I don’t stop.
After a few moments, I hear someone clear their throat.
“You two done?” I hear Grams say. I pull away from her, and we both laugh awkwardly, Grams holding two cups of hot chocolate as she hands one to Lara.
“I’m going to drive home, I’ll leave you to it.” She walks away to find her car.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” I ask her, and she nods.
**
We walk into an empty park, which is probably closed, but I want somewhere private to talk. We walk side by side along the trail. We walk in silence for a few moments, neither of us making the first move. It’s been 5 years, can we even be like how we used to?
“Do you love me too?” I blurt the question out, terrified by the answer. Does she still?
“I don’t know if I can say it back right now. I mean, this is all kind of sudden, you kind of sprung this on me.” My expression drops, but I mask it quickly.
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “I love you, Butterfly.”
Lara
We walk inside an empty park, which is most definitely closed after dark. I stare at the side of his face, watching him look forward. Neither of us dares to speak a word. The silence is peaceful, but it has so much depth to it. It’s been
“Do you love me too?” Scott blurts out, I look down at the ground. I do love him, but I don’t know if it’s love or if it’s attachment.
“I don’t know if I can say it back right now. I mean, this is all kind of sudden, you kind of sprung this on me.” I tell him because it's the truth. I don’t know if I’ll ever say it back.
“It’s okay,” he smiles softly. “I love you, Butterfly.” He just called me “Butterfly” for the first time in years. My heart literally dropped to my toes.
“Don’t call me that.” I shoot at him because why would he just waltz back to me, like he loves me? Like we could be something after being rejected so many times. When I needed him, he just left. He ghosted me and everyone he loves for his career.
“Why not?” He asks, stopping in the middle of the path, blocking me from walking away.
“You don’t get to waltz back into my life after all these years, be my ‘friend’ then tell me you want to date me again! It’s not fair to me.” I snap at him.
“But I didn’t want to hurt you again.”
“You still did.” I turn around and walk to the exit.
“Lara!” He calls out after me, but I don’t turn around. I don’t go back to the man I love. The man who hurt me. He follows even though I don’t want him to. He grabs my wrist and pulls me back around. “I’m not telling you to date me again, I just want you to know I love you.”
“There you did, happy?”
“No, talk to me.” Scott begs.
“You can’t just come back to me when it’s convenient for you!” I let out a shuddering breath. “You’ve only ever thought about yourself.”
“No, I’ve only ever thought about you. Every single day. I thought I had to choose between you and my future. I didn’t want to jump straight back into a relationship. Being friends is safer. I never stopped loving you.” His tone is soft, but I’m still filled with rage.
“You’re the one who dumped me, don’t play nice guy.” I feel tears pricking my eyes until they start falling down my face. He looks at me with these soft, caring eyes. Why would he care if he left me? “You don’t get to have pictures of us after you threw it away.”
“Butterfly…” He pulls me to his chest, and I try to push him off.
“Stay the fuck away from me!” I cry out, but I still want him to pull me closer.
I sob, hitting his chest while I’m in his arms.
Not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to get the point through.
I slide to the ground, and he kneels next to me.
I stare into his eyes; he’s crying too. He pulls me into another hug, caressing the back of my head.
I cry harder than I have in years.
Every sleepless night.
Every unanswered text.
Every birthday without him.
Every piece of me that broke comes pouring out all at once.
“I’m so sorry.” He tells me, over and over again. His voice is weak, quiet, filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry.”