Krystal
The pitter-patter of feet in the hallway outside my door wakes me up.
I tried to get a hotel room last night, but they insisted I take the spare room in Grandma’s house.
Despite my protest, despite my baby cousin having to move her things into her sister’s room, they insisted.
I’ll be surprised if they ever let me go back to New York.
A smile breaches my lips at the thought. It feels good to know my presence has been missed. Rae almost ruptured my eardrum, screaming with delight when I told her I was changing my flight.
I wasn’t going to punish myself by spending today alone. I’m done punishing myself for things that are out of my control. Done punishing myself, ever, for any reason.
I unlock my phone, stare at the voicemail I’ve yet to listen to from Nick.
There are a thousand things I want to hear him say…
but knowing he could just leave like that…
makes me feel childish for hoping he’ll say them in the first place.
Still, I’ll never forgive myself if he proves me wrong…
if what happened between us was as real as I thought it was…
if he feels about me how I feel about him.
My heart plummets as I stare down at the message. My chest expands with a deep inhale, and with shaky hands, I press play.
“Snowflake,” his voice crackles through the speaker, and tears spring from the corners of my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
I pause the recording, swipe the tears that stream down my face as I take shaky breaths.
After a beat, I find the courage to press play again.
“I shouldn’t have left. I just,” he sighs.
“I couldn’t give you the chance to leave me behind.
I couldn’t accept a world where you say you don’t want more of me, of us.
I know you probably don’t want to hear from me now, and I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to fix it sooner…
there’s so much I left unsaid. My only regret about this trip was not saying the things I’m about to say to you in person.
I won’t say I love you, because I’m not sure you’ll believe me. ”
I stop the recording. My heart hammers behind my ribcage. My breath is caught in my chest. I give myself a moment to calm down again before listening to the rest of the voicemail.
“I will say that I love your smile. I love the way you scrunch your nose when you laugh. I love your sharpness and your wit. I love how you give pieces of yourself away without wanting anything in return. I love how you see the beauty in others, even when you’re struggling to see the beauty in yourself.
I love how gentle you are, how considerate.
I love your long legs and your soft skin.
I love your pretty, brown eyes. I love your openness.
I love spending time with you. I love…everything. I love everything.”
Static leaks through the speaker to signal the silence on the line. Then, he says, “Merry Christmas, Krystal.”
I press the phone against my chest, flopping back into the soft bed.
The implications of the message seep into my skin and saturate my heart. The smile that blooms on my face is lined with giddy excitement, hungry for the possibility of what we could be. I play the message again.
A knock at the door startles me out of my reverie. Jhene, one of the baby cousins, pokes her head through the door and smiles her toothy smile at me. “Aunty Krys?” She says.
“Yes, Jhene?” I respond, offering her an equally warm smile.
“Grandma said get your butt downstairs,” she says, snickering.
“I said ass, tell her to get her ass downstairs!” Grandma yells from the top of the stairs. Jhene squeals, running in the direction she came.
Evergreen tradition is to eat breakfast, then open presents. It’s funny how this family of nightowls transforms into early birds every Christmas morning. “I’m coming!” I yell, rushing to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.
My phone burns a hole in my pocket as we make it through our meal. It can’t hurt to make him wait…he deserves to after what he did. I linger after eating to help clean up, and I take my time with my family. After years of this holiday — my holiday without me, they deserve my undivided attention.
I gossip with the older cousins. I hug my parents, tight. I let my mom cry about how she’s so happy to have me back. I tell them about being ready to leave New York and show everyone pictures of Crescent Bay.
When the food comas start to kick in, and the children are preoccupied with their gifts. I finally pull my phone out and call Nick.
The line trills…once…twice…a third time…I fiddle with the pendant on my necklace.
“Hello?” He answers. If I’m not mistaken, he sounds out of breath.
“Happy Birthday, Santa,” I say.
He chuckles. “Merry Christmas, Snowflake.”
Silence stretches between us for a while. Then, he asks, “Did you…Did you get my voicemail?”
“I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t,” I muse.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice soft.
I close my eyes, let it simmer before responding.
“I know,” I say. “Make it up to me.”
“Krystal,” he breathes.
“I’m in North Carolina,” I say before he can say anything else, before I lose my nerve. “I can…stop in D.C. on my way back to New York. We can…figure this out?”
More silence.
“What day?” He asks, a smile hanging on his voice.
I block mine with the back of my hand, feeling a little ridiculous for the butterflies that erupt inside me. “I’m supposed to fly back on the 28th,” I say.
“Done. I’ll be there to pick you up.”
An incredulous laugh tumbles past my lips. “You don’t even know what time I’ll land.”
“I’ll be there, Snowflake.”
I tuck my bottom lip under my teeth, will my heartbeat to slow down. The sounds of children in the background urge me to let him enjoy this time with his family. “I’ll see you soon, then. I’ll text you,” I say.
“Okay, talk soon.”
I can still hear the smile in his voice. I can imagine the way he absently fidgets while he waits for me to end the call.
“Oh..and Nick,” I say.
“Snowflake?”
“I love everything too.”