Chapter 37 Molly
Molly
Christmas morning in Utah starts way too fucking early when my brother comes into my childhood bedroom and starts shaking the edge of the mattress, accomplishing his goal of waking me in the most disorienting way possible.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ I groan into my pillow.
‘Get up, c’mon.’
‘Mom and Dad will tell you to go back to bed if you try to wake them up to open our three presents, Caleb. You’re thirty-three.’
Caleb pulls the very warm, very soft blanket off my legs.
Gemma meows indignantly and jumps off the bed.
I didn’t want to leave her in New York, so I brought her in a carrier on the plane, this cat that Elijah abandoned with me when he fucked off to who knows where.
I can admit that I would have been sadder if he’d taken her, though.
‘Molly, it snowed.’
This has my attention, and I push my torso off the bed to glare at him. ‘You’re lying,’ I accuse.
‘Would I joke about this?’
I swing my legs over the side of the bed because, if he is lying, I will whoop his ass. I don’t care that he’s bigger and taller and older than me.
The wood floor is cold, and I tiptoe to the window and look out. Sure enough, the sky is a light grey blue above a blanket of snow across everything–the sidewalk, the street, the yard, the whole neighbourhood.
I gasp, as in awe of the sight as I was as a kid. We didn’t always get a white Christmas, which made them even more special. Caleb looks equally thrilled at the sight.
‘Get your coat and boots on, let’s shovel for Dad.’
‘You and your damn Good Samaritan ways,’ I sigh, but I’m already pulling wool socks on for my snow boots.
I meet Caleb downstairs and zip up my jacket, wrapping Elijah’s scarf around my neck, even though it doesn’t smell like him any more.
My hair’s been an unkempt mess since getting here a couple days ago, the lack of humidity in the air doing my curls no favours. I pull a beanie on before meeting Caleb in the yard.
It’s Christmas, so it’s not like we’re going anywhere anyway, but our dad would still insist on shovelling both our and our neighbours’ driveways, so we get to it, me on the driveway, Caleb on the sidewalks and then the neighbours’.
He is way faster than me, but I do just fine.
It’s meditative, the repeated motions of shovelling snow into piles, and the crunching beneath my boots.
I had an interview for the visiting professor job before flying home, and I’m not one to put eggs in a basket, but I know I crushed it.
Talking shop about writing and pedagogy felt like riding a bike, and by the end of the meeting with James and the dean, I wanted the job so badly.
It’s a scary feeling, the wanting and anticipation, but it’s refreshing to feel so excited about something.
If I get the job, which I believe I will, I’ll put in my two weeks at Drummond straight away. I told Kenneth to apply for Elijah’s job and gave him a pep talk when he confessed to feeling nervous about it. The guy’s not so bad when he’s not annoying the shit out of me.
Teaching wouldn’t pay as well as Drummond does, but with some tutoring shifts or a part-time IT gig on campus, I’ll be able to make ends meet. The thought of change is scary, but I’ve been doing the not-scary thing for three years now. It’s okay to be scared sometimes.
‘So are you going to tell me why you’ve been moping around for the last three days or what?’ Caleb asks, after I’ve shovelled most of the driveway.
‘I thought you said feelings give you hives.’
‘Yeah, well, you being all emo and listening to a 2000s breakup playlist on repeat is worse, so I’ll risk the rash.’ Caleb leans over and presses snow into a ball before launching it at me. The snowball explodes against my leg and I give an indignant gasp.
‘Jerk,’ I mutter, and throw one of my own. He lets it hit him and doesn’t throw another, instead propping a hand on his hip and waiting for me to talk. I groan as dramatically as I can muster and face him. ‘I was seeing someone I really, really liked and he kind of ghosted me.’
Caleb’s face scrunches up. He’s been with his wife since he was twenty; he barely dated before finding The One. He probably doesn’t even know what a situationship is.
‘Ghosted how?’
‘He told me he loved me then left town and has answered zero of my calls and texts since.’
Caleb winces. ‘Ouch.’
I roll my eyes and scoop another shovelful of snow. ‘Thank you for your sympathy.’
Caleb comes to my side to help finish the walkway.
I have reached out to Elijah more times than I would like to admit, and each time I’m met with radio silence.
At what point do I have to accept that he’s not coming back?
I’ll have to forget about him, about vampires and werewolves and any magic he introduced me to.
I’ll have to move on at some point, and the thought makes my stomach hurt.
I’m lovesick.
‘And you love him? Does he suck or is the ghosting the first offence?’ Caleb asks.
I wish I could say that he sucks, but the truth is I think he is a great guy. He was so adamant that being with him would be a disservice to me, to the future I want. I wish I could hate him more for it, but he had to think about himself too, protect his own heart.
‘I love him,’ I agree. ‘I think he’s scared.’
Caleb’s daughter Hazel hollers from the door, drawing our attention as we’re just about finished with the shovelling. She jumps up and down in the doorway, not wanting to get her socks wet, and calls for me, still not quite able to pronounce my name. ‘Mowwy! Mowwy!’
I rest on the handle of the shovel.
‘Hi, Teeny, did you see the snow?’ I yell back.
Caleb’s wife Gabby comes up behind Hazel and props the gesticulating little kid on her hip.
‘Santa came!’ Hazel calls three times, the snow much less enchanting than literal Santa Claus delivering her gifts in the night.
‘What?! Caleb, did you hear that Santa found Hazel?’
‘I told you he would,’ he says, and strides up the shovelled walkway to the door to kiss his wife and daughter.
We sprinkle some salt on the walkway and peel off our winter layers inside while the kitchen bustles with sound, my dad working on a casserole, my mom making cinnamon rolls, Hazel sprinting around like a maniac, chasing Gemma.
It’s a perfect morning, the kind that makes me miss home even while I’m here.
We open presents, watch The Santa Clause, eat way more cinnamon rolls than is good for our health and take naps around the house.
Gemma and Hazel sleep on the loveseat, and I hate to admit that Elijah was right.
I don’t want to trade these days with my family, the possibility of having my own chaos demon to terrorise the cat and Hazel, the beach vacations, the mid-morning snowball fights.
I stopped trying to call and text him after the first week, but I still check my phone just in case. I keep thinking he might send a message that he misses me, any hint that he’s thinking of me half as much as I’m thinking of him, but my texts remain unread.
My mom knew I was sad about something on day one.
She can sniff out sadness in her children like nobody’s business, and I told her what I could.
I refrained from telling the bit about my coworker being a real and true vampire who drinks blood and has been alive for hundreds of years.
I went with him being afraid to commit, which is almost kind of close to the truth.
Dad has mentioned three times a young single guy that started working with him. Name’s Trent, and apparently he’s really sharp. I tell him I’ll think about it, even though I will not.
Too soon.
‘Moll, by chance, do you know the dude pacing around outside?’ Gabby asks, head tilted as she stares out the big front window.
‘What guy?’ I groan and push off the couch to see who she’s talking about.
My breath catches in my throat. I almost don’t believe my eyes, but I recognise the coat, the shoulders, the hair peeking out from beneath his hat.
There, in broad daylight, is Elijah.