Chapter 26 #4
“Sloane. It’s Christmas, and in this house Christmas means you get a gift whether you like it or not.
Besides, Carm and I worked very hard on it.
” She winks, that playful expression identical to Andy's and I just want to hug her. Something floods my stomach, this strange revelation that this family sees me and wants me here. It’s foreign and feels like a gift in itself.
She takes my hand, pulling me toward the tree, Carm bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement and I feel Andy’s eyes on me, tracking my movements so closely like he’s scared I might disappear, again.
He couldn’t know that I needed this; that since Thanksgiving I’ve felt so lonely, like I could just slip away and, sure, people might notice, but they’d assume it was some marked part of me, some pillar of my personality, and they’d never come looking.
I think Andy’s family would look, though. I think they’d want to find me.
I carefully untape the small red package Rebecca fished out from under the tree, giving way to a tiny white box.
I open it gingerly and can practically feel the anticipation coming off of Carmen, like steam in a tea kettle about to whistle.
Inside is a long thin bracelet, expertly woven with different shades of blue.
I swallow a hard lump now forming in the base of my throat.
“It’s a friendship bracelet!” Carmen practically squeals, but then seems to remember herself, twining her fingers together awkwardly.
“If you don’t like the blue though I can totally make you a different one.
Mom and I really didn’t work that hard,” she shrugs, but her smile bleeds through any attempt to be unbothered.
“No, Carmen—” I sniff back the tears crowding my eyes because no one’s really made me anything like this before and the idea of this girl and her mom braiding a silly bracelet for me feels like much more than I deserve. “It’s—it’s perfect. I love it. Can you help me put it on?”
Her grin is almost better than the bracelet itself and she all but jumps me to put the thing on.
I laugh, letting a few tears spill over and I can see in my periphery Rebecca smile, watch Andy wrap his arm around her and for a second, I have that urge to run.
Because this feels like a lot, almost too much, but I let myself feel it. Let myself pretend I belong here.
“I actually made you all something, too. You’ll have to share it, though.”
I move to my bag and pull out the construction paper I dug out of a cabinet last night, after Andy and I slipped back into the decadently heated apartment, noses frozen over, skin singed with ice and heated kisses.
We didn’t blow up that mattress—it would’ve been too loud.
Instead, we laid on the couch together, stealing kisses as the Christmas tree glowed, between the million and two questions triggered by the stories I spied in every knick knack I saw.
He answered them, mindlessly brushing my hair back as I lay against his chest, only stopping to bend his head down and kiss me.
And eventually, long after he’d mined stories of Evie and Beau from my mind, and chaotic tales of Connie from my heart, I felt him fall deeply asleep.
I carefully extracted myself from his hold and, finally, after months of trying, created something I loved.
I hand it to Carmen downward, making up for the lack of wrapping.
She moves toward Rebecca and Andy before the grand reveal and I feel a cold sweat trickle down my spine.
I don’t know why I’m nervous. I’m sure even if they don’t like it they’ll at least pretend they do.
Still this huge part of me really wants them to like it, really wants them to like me.
Carmen flips the paper over and a hush falls over the three of them so only the light sound of Silver Bells plays in the background.
“Sloane…” Rebecca lightly places a hand on her chest and I bite the inside of my cheek waiting. I see her lightly sniff, her eyes going glassy the way mine did when I opened the bracelet.
I cried because I was scared to be seen. I wonder if she is, too.
The portrait is simple, the three of them sitting by the tree, a still from the night before that I etched into memory while we were crowding the couch watching Serendipity, the glow of the screen and the small Christmas houses on the mantel that belonged to Andy’s step dad warming the painting.
It’s really their faces that I focused on, the love so deeply etched into each of them that I could see it in every line, every curve of their face, the way Rebecca is combing back Carmen's hair, Andy, nestled in behind them.
If watching Rebecca’s reaction surprised me, seeing Andy’s has destroyed me.
His hand firmly grasps his mom’s shoulder and his face is filled with not surprise, not gratitude, but something softer…
deeper. Like he’s seeing something sacred and doesn’t quite know how to hold it yet.
His eyes flick up to mine and it’s like I feel the world narrowing, feel it pressing on me from every direction, just by that glance.
He mouths “Thank you,” and I roll my lips together trying to control the emotion I’m sure is written all over my face.
It hits me then: I thought I painted them because I wanted to give them something beautiful or at least as beautiful as them welcoming me into their home on Christmas Eve, but what I really wanted was to belong in that picture, too.
As Andy’s smile breaks, so slow and certain, I realize that if I wanted to, if I just stuck around, maybe I could.