Page 59 of Fallen Thorns
I ran out of things to say. I was anything but reassured, but once again, I felt like I had no option but to go along with things. I accepted there and then that I would always and forever be out of my depth.
“You okay?” Their tone softened and their head tilted slightly in focused sympathy.
I took in a deep breath and nodded. All I could manage.
“Want to go for a drink?” Mars suggested. “The alcoholic kind,” they added before I had a chance to ask for clarification.
“Very much.”
“Good. I know just the place.”
It was a tight squeeze,accompanied by extortionately overpriced drinks, but of course, Mars knew the owner. A quick handshake, an inside joke and a free whiskey measure upon arrival secured our seats right by the window. I took off my long coat and rubbed my hands together for warmth. Mars followed up with a question on what my preferred drink would be and then informed me — much to my disapproval — the evening was to be entirely on them.
The whiskey had already warmed my insides by the time Mars sat back down with our drinks. I’d been spending the last few minutes looking out of the petit window before me, eyes dancing over each twinkling Christmas light. People passed by at an array of speeds, each person with a clear destination in mind, all displaying varying expressions and carrying various quantities of bags. Kids dawdled, teens laughed, grandparents sighed. Everything was so… normal. So human.
“Good choice, by the way.” Mars’ voice tethered me back to myself.
“Oh, thanks.” I picked up my glass and swirled it around a little as Mars took a sip of their own drink.
“I never understood the hype around Christmas.” Mars was looking at the same lights I had been focused on moments before. “I get the whole religious aspect, obviously, and families coming together yada yada, but I swear I’ve been wanted for Christmas since the end of August, and you know, take the hint.”
I snorted into my drink and Mars’ face glowed, a smirk forming like they were testing the waters of my sense of humour. At least I understood that joke.
I wiped the embarrassing dribble off my chin. “I fucking hate that song.” I don’t know why I felt the need to swear.
“I can probably list a grand total of two festive songs that don’t make me want to stick a knife into my ears.”
“Go on then.” I turned to face them, smug, my legs dangling off the high chair and my hands clasped together.
“Right, now don’t judge.” They raised a serious hand.
“I haven’t even opened my mouth.” I was grinning.
They told me and I paused, considering. “Okay, I’ll give you that. Halcyon days.”
“It’s the only one my grandad knows all the words too; he sings it to me on FaceTime every year without fail.”
My grin shifted into something more genuine. I tried to imagine a much older version of Mars in a party hat, all jolly and expressive, imbuing pure love into every line.
“Okay and the second?” My smile remained.
“You have to promise you won’t laugh at this one.”
“You saying that is only going to make me want to laugh more.”
Mars rolled their eyes and took another large sip of their cocktail.
Then instead of naming the song, they started to belt it.
My initial reaction was the typical introverted embarrassment that a scene was being caused around me but the alcohol in my system let me laugh. I was still slightly embarrassed at the fact Mars was drawing attention to us in such a small and cramped space, but a quick glance around told me everything I needed to know, because a second later a woman behind us continued, in full volume, and by the end of the chorus, the entirety of the bar was singing or laughing or raising a glass. I looked back at Mars, who was looking at me too, and I’d never felt so light.
We ordered another round. Then another. More whiskey. More cocktails.
The edges of my vision quickly softened, and my head started to feel weighed down, but I needed this. And Mars was just as bad, if not worse.
We avoided all topics relating to The Thorns for a long while.
No mention of Marianne.
