Page 9 of All the Way
A little cough forms in the back of my throat and I choke it back. “What did you want to talk about?”
“I don’t want to talk about anything in particular,” he says, putting his hands over mine and taking the tree stand from me. “I just want us to be. You know? Maybe go for a drive later.”
“Chris, I don’t know.” He inches closer to me, ever so slightly, and I feel a wave of heat wash over me. The room gets heavy around me, and the chill of the damp room doesn’t feel so bad anymore. It feels good. Like I’m swimming in warm water. “The roads aren’t good.”
Setting the tree stand down, he slips his fingers around my arms, sending a flurry of goosebumps over my tender flesh. I haven’t had this happen to me in so long. I haven’t had a man touch me like this since him, a year ago. He was the last man I kissed, and the memory of his lips on mine has continued to haunt me since then.
“So we’ll stay here tonight.” He leans into my neck and says gently into my ear. “I’ll keep you good and warm.” His fingers loosen up on my flesh until they’re barely touching me, and his slips his hands softly down my arm to my fingers, entwining them with his.
“Okay.” I lean into him and rest my head on his shoulder. He’s warm in the cold, he’s here when I’m away. He’s light in the dark, he’s hard and soft. My mind swirls with a million thoughts and questions as I feel his fingertips lift my chin up until his eyes are upon mine again. “We can’t leave everyone waiting too long.” He breaks his glance away from me and grabs the tree stand, grins, and bounds quickly up the stairs.
Chapter Four - Chris
I’ve mentally cleared my calendar for the next two weeks. I’ve got money my pocket and wind in my sails, and I don’t give a shit if I need to dig Jess’ truck out of ten feet of snow. Tomorrow I’m taking her somewhere special.
It’s so strange being back in this house. After what happened, Paul and I still hung out, but we eventually all but lost touch. It wasn’t just because his sister and I broke up. It was because I’d become a reclusive piece of shit. Jamie and I were always friendly, but she stopped texting me random things that popped into her head. I didn’t blame any of them for what happened. They are Jess’ blood, and that’s a bond that can never be broken. Even the bonds promised with marriage vows can be bent and broken. I've seen it happen.
I get back upstairs, where Paul is slicing the plastic netting off the tree to let it fall.
“I’ve got the stand,” I say, positioning it in one corner of the room. “Here?”
“Looks good,” Jess says, stepping up behind me and putting an arm around Jamie’s shoulder.
I pick up the tree with one hand by the trunk and lift it into the stand, taking one knee to the floor to start screwing it into place.
Strand by strand and piece by piece, the tree becomes dressed in all its glory. And like Jamie said, it does turn out looking pretty fucking epic. I think we decorated it with every single ornament this family owns. And the most incredible, beautiful, imperfectly perfect part of it was Jess. She attended to the tree with the care that an astronomer would use when measuring the distance between the stars. I kept stealing little looks at her, checking to see what ornament she would choose next. She made everything seem important and easy at the same time. Every little imperfection on the tree, she made to look good. She attempted to see harmony and grace even though it was the last man standing.
I know it’s fucking corny, but I can’t help it.
And the whole time, we occasionally came into contact, our hands touching accidentally when we both went to place an ornament on the same branch, or when I needed to get to a spot on the tree that she was blocking and I had to guide her hips to move her over a few inches.
“I feel like you should be a professional tree decorator,” I say to her, stepping back to admire our collective work.
She laughs and wipes her hands on her jeans. “That would be fun, but I don’t know that it’s steady work.”
“Have you given any more thought to transferring schools, honey?” her dad asks, taking a seat on their old pull-out couch.
I didn’t know she was thinking about transferring, but I guess I don’t know much about what she’s up to these days.
“You don’t like California?” I ask. “The weather too beautiful for you?”
She sighs and turns away from me, going into the kitchen and pouring a glass of red wine. “I don’t know yet.” She shoots her dad a quick glance, and he gets up.
“It’s time for some dessert anyway, isn’t it?” He goes into the kitchen and places the big tray of assorted cannoli, neapolitans, pignoli and mini black and white cookies from Kaitlyn’s on the kitchen table, taking it from its safe hiding place on the counter.
Everyone descends upon the pastries. I go for a black and white cookie, and there’s more than enough for everyone to try a little bit of everything.
“Thinking of transferring?” I ask Jess, and she nods, her eyes cast down to the floor. “What other schools are you applying to?”
“Oh, I’m not sure yet. It’s all too early for that,” she responds.
“I’m getting tired,” Jamie says, stretching her arms out over her head. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to sleep with all the sugar in my blood, but I better try..”
“I think I’m tired too,” Mrs. Murphy says. “Chris, promise me you won’t drive home in this mess.” She looks out the window and pulls her oversized grey wrap sweater tighter around her shoulders. “It looks like it’s coming down hard again, and I doubt the streets have been plowed.”
“I, um, don’t really have my car with me.” I still can’t believe I was drinking all day with those guys. And how differently the rest of the night could have gone if Jess hadn’t come upon the tree farm.
“That’s even better,” Mr. Murphy says. “I’ll grab you a blanket. You’ll sleep here.”
