Page 124 of A World Without You
THIRTY
DREAM 12
Christmas Day
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I’M SITTING AT MY GATE, staring at the ugly airport carpet and shoving my earbuds in my ears to drown out Alvin and the Chipmunks singing “We Wish You A Merry Christmas” and the family trying to get to Detroit in time for Christmas dinner. For some reason, in every world, people think yelling at airline employees will magically correct flight delays and create more seats on a plane.
My stomach grumbles, so I rummage through my carry-on for a snack. There’s a red and green Tupperware in the side pocket, and I pull it out to reveal four sugar cookies, no doubt gluten-free and made by my mother.
“I thought you thought chocolate crinkle cookies were the only ones worth eating.”
I smile at the sound of his voice. I turn and Bennett stares down at me. He’s not the Bennett I know now, but the light in his eyes is still distinctly him. There’s something else in his expression. It certainly wasn’t there when I was drunk at the bar, and it wasn’t there last night in his packed-up apartment. Today, it looks a lot like forgiveness.
“Sugar cookies are the exception,” I retort, and he narrows his eyes on me.
“That right?” he asks, slinging his backpack to the ground and sitting in the open chair next to me.
“It is. Sugar cookies are universally accepted for every holiday, which means they’re not specific to Christmas, meaning they’re absolutely worth eating.” I hold up the Tupperware to him, and he takes the snowman.
He eats his, and I eat my Christmas tree. We stay silent, and I’m unsure if it’s because there are no words to say or simply that we don’t know how to say them.
“When does your flight leave?” he asks.
“Soon,” I say because I don’t know. I’ve only just arrived in this dream. “Yours?”
“Soon,” he says, too, and smiles at me.
We’re still so awkwardly quiet, neither of us knowing what to say next, so I hold out my fist. He taps it twice and wiggles his fingers against mine.
I smile up at him.
“Always the dream team,” he says, looking more like the Bennett I know.
Before I can respond, the edges of the world grow fuzzy, but just before it goes black, I realize in this world, when his heart heals a little more, and it all hurts a little less, maybe we get to rediscover each other here, too.
