Chapter 30
Chapter
Thirty
I took Crystal up on her offer, and the next morning I was sitting in her living room. The Christmas tree bathed everything in a warm glow, the colourful lights dancing across the walls. It was about ten times larger than our pink tree. My heart twinged, and I focused in on the hodgepodge of homemade and nostalgic ornaments.
Crystal bounced over with two steaming mugs of hot cocoa piled high with marshmallows. "One for you, m'lady." She handed me a mug with an exaggerated bow. "With extra 'mallows, just how you like it."
I smiled and took a sip, the velvety chocolate and gooey marshmallows coating my tongue. "Mmm, you know me so well. What would I do without you?"
"Crash and burn, obviously." Crystal flopped down beside me on the couch, propping her fuzzy-socked feet on the coffee table. "So, ready for two days of non-stop MacMillan family holiday cheer? We've got cookie baking, carol singing, board games?—"
"Bring it on." I clinked my mug against hers.
And for the next forty-eight hours, I let myself get swept up in Crystal's family traditions. We made an ungodly amount of sugar cookies (eating half the dough), belted out off-key renditions of Christmas songs, and played cutthroat rounds of Monopoly that nearly ripped apart family bonds. It was exactly the distraction I needed. But even through the laughter, my heart still felt like it was in a cage. Squeezed too tight.
On Christmas Eve, duty called. I zipped up my nicest sweater dress and waited for my parents to pick me up. We went to their favourite Italian restaurant in downtown Calgary. The cozy atmosphere wrapped around me like a warm hug as we were seated at a candlelit table. Dad looked healthier than he had the other day in the hospital, his cheeks rosy and eyes bright. That did wonders for my soul.
We sipped glasses of Chianti—well, all of us except Isabel—and nibbled on focaccia as we perused the menu. I ordered the lobster ravioli while Mom and Dad both went for the osso bucco.
"You seem distracted, honey," Mom said, studying me over her wine glass. "Everything okay?"
I forced a smile. "Yeah, of course. Just thinking about school stuff."
Truth was, my mind kept drifting to Logan's latest email. He'd written finally, gushing about how much he missed me and couldn't wait to get back. But nothing in response to what I’d said. I chose to ignore it. I wanted to believe him, to cling to the possibility that he'd come home and everything would magically be perfect between us again.
The waiter arrived with our entrees, providing a welcome distraction. We dug in, savouring each delicious bite. For dessert, we split a decadent tiramisu and exchanged gifts. I gave Dad a leather-bound journal, Isabel a silver charm bracelet, and mom some hand-stitched kitchen towels. They surprised me with a gorgeous cashmere scarf in a deep plum hue.
After lingering over cappuccinos, we finally said our goodbyes. I hugged my parents tightly.
"We love you, Shar," Dad said gruffly. "Phone us anytime, okay? For anything."
I nodded, blinking back tears. "I will. Love you both."
I gave Isabel a longer hug than I normally would’ve. She seemed happy, and I prayed it stayed that way.
Back at Crystal's, we had a photo from Maddie in Hawaii waiting for us. It took nearly an hour to download, but then we got to see her grinning in a bikini on the beach, sipping Mai Tai’s at sunset. I sighed wistfully.
“Whore.” Crystal typed, then pressed send. I laughed and sent a “Jealous, but we’re both actually happy for you!” message.
Christmas morning at Crystal’s house felt like stepping into someone else’s family photo. I sat cross-legged on the floor in my pajamas, holding a stocking that her parents had filled for me. It shouldn’t have hit me so hard, but it did.
Crystal’s dad gave me a wink as I pulled out little treasures—a pack of gum, a mini lotion, a pair of fuzzy socks. Nothing extravagant, but it was the thought that gutted me. They didn’t have to include me. I wasn’t their kid, wasn’t even family, but they had.
That was also what made me think of Rob. The idea of him sitting alone in our house surrounded by the decorations we’d put up together by himself made me physically ill. I wanted to go back. I wanted to call his pager number. But I could no longer justify doing those things as “just a friend.”
On New Year’s Eve, Crystal and I went to a club her sister recommended down south. I still wasn’t a party person, but I wanted Crystal to be happy, and I needed a distraction. We danced our hearts out, but neither of us drank. Not smart when we were alone for the night.
Even with bass rumbling through me, my mind wouldn't stop obsessing over Logan's return.
Crystal pulled me onto the dance floor as the countdown began. "5...4...3...2...1...Happy New Year!" Auld Lang Syne played as she threw her arms around me. "This is gonna be our year, babe. I feel it." She pretended to kiss me, and I laughed so hard I snorted.
On the second, Crystal’s dad dropped us off at our respective houses on campus. I was glad he stopped at my house first. No awkwardness.
I stepped into the house, the cold air trailing behind me as I shut the door. It was immediately too quiet.
My suitcase thudded to the floor, and I looked around, my heart sinking. The pink Christmas tree we’d set up together was gone. The string lights we’d draped, the decorations we’d hung—all of it, disappeared.
I swallowed hard, kicking off my boots. The living room felt hollow. His favourite blanket was gone, the one he’d thrown over me when I fell asleep there. The books and random hockey magazines he left scattered were nowhere to be found.
I walked slowly down the hallway, my socks muffling my steps. His door was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open, bracing myself.
The room was completely empty.
His quilt, the clothes he always piled on the chair in the corner, gone. The closet door hung open, revealing nothing but a few stray hangers. I stood there, numb, barely able to catch the last scent of him.
I sank to the floor, my knees hitting the cold hardwood. My chest tightened, and the tears I’d been holding back spilled over. The sobs came fast and hard, wracking through me until I couldn’t breathe.
This wasn’t just about the decorations or the empty room. It was about him. About the way he made this place feel alive, about the stupid jokes, the late-night conversations of the past weeks. It was about the way I noticed everything about him—the way he moved, the way his smile could light up an otherwise grey day. I couldn’t believe I was thinking this about Rob.
And the way I missed him now felt like a betrayal of everything I was supposed to feel.
How could I explain this? That I was gutted over Logan’s best friend leaving, that my chest ached every time I thought of Rob’s laugh or the way he poured a damn bowl of cereal? Guilt sank into me, sharp and suffocating. This wasn’t who I was supposed to be.
But the ache wouldn’t leave. The memories wouldn’t leave. I hated that I missed him so much it made my skin crawl.
Eventually, I forced myself to stand, wiping at my cheeks. Crying wasn’t going to change anything. Rob was gone. Logan was coming back, and I had to deal with it.
I wandered into the kitchen, staring blankly at the counter. The sink had a few stray crumbs, and the fridge still held the food I left.
Cleaning.
I could clean.
That was something I could control.
That afternoon, I tied my hair back and grabbed the spray bottle from under the sink. The countertops were wiped down with precision, every crumb and streak obliterated. I moved to the stove, scrubbing at a stubborn stain until my arm ached.
The living room came next. I vacuumed the carpet, fluffed the cushions, and dusted every surface.
By the second day, the house was spotless, but the hollowness still lingered, gnawing at the edges of my mind. I decided to tackle the closets. Sorting through my own clothes, I bagged items to donate, trying to keep myself busy.
The third day, I grabbed my coat and headed to the grocery store. The aisles were quiet, the post-holiday rush having settled. I filled the cart with everything Logan liked—eggs, bacon, bread, fresh veggies. I threw in some pasta and sauce, planning meals in my head.
Back at the house, I put the groceries away methodically, the fridge slowly filling up. Then I started cooking. A big pot of soup, a tray of baked chicken and roasted vegetables. The repetitive motions kept me grounded, the smells filling the kitchen with warmth.
By the fourth day, I scrubbed the washroom tiles, rearranged the kitchen pantry, and even cleaned out the junk drawer. When everything was finally in order, I leaned against the counter, exhaustion creeping in. The house looked perfect, ready for Logan’s return.
I ignored that it didn’t feel right.
I ignored that the only person I kept looking for wasn’t Logan.
The morning before Logan’s flight came in, I walked to campus to meet Crystal at the bookstore. Getting my textbooks for the semester was my last task, and we both wanted to check it off the list.
The walk was good. The sunshine and cool air energized me, but it didn’t prepare me for what I would see the second I entered the bookstore.
“Hey!” Crystal waved from down the aisle, but I couldn’t look up. I stared at the stand of school newspapers, Logan's face staring back at me from the front page. Unmistakable even from a distance.
But he wasn't alone. Draped over him was a gorgeous blonde, her sequined dress leaving little to the imagination as she played with the medal hung around Logan's neck. He grinned at the camera, his arm around her waist. His teammates and a few other girls crowded around him in celebration.
The caption below read:
Douglas U's Logan Kemp celebrates record-breaking win at World Juniors.