Storm

I let out a big sigh and fidget in my chair. I hate when she is always right.

“You’re right... I know you are. I’m just scared. It’s so hard to picture starting over, giving up twelve years, just so much change... I love Mike, and I know he loves me, but you’re right, we’ve become more friends and roommates. I’m not even sure when or how we got like that. I think we kind of went into denial. I really thought we would get married, have a family... and now, my head is all fucked up with Storm. I mean, I’ve only known him two weeks, but we just have this connection. But honestly, Amy, how am I supposed to even think about being in a relationship with someone like him? He travels, he sleeps around, he has money, he has women crawling all over him, and he’s amazingly sexy, he’s practically living on a different planet compared to me. How do I fit into that? I’m just little boring me. I can’t see it lasting... but he’s just so persistent that we should give it a try. I don’t know what to do.”

I can’t look at her because I know I will start to cry, and I’m afraid I might not be able to stop. She reaches across the table and holds my hand.

“I’ll always be here for you, Ev. You’re not going to be alone, I promise you. No matter what happens, I will be right here and go through it with you. Stop stressing out so much and thinking you’re not good enough for him or that you won’t fit. He’s a big boy. He knows what he wants. “

“How did I get so lucky to have you as my best friend?” A tear slides down my cheek that I quickly brush away.

“We’re both lucky. You’ve gotten me through the worst shit ever, too. Now, I want you to get your head together, okay? Allow yourself to find happiness. And ya know what? It might not last forever and that’s okay. The important part is that you’re happy and not spending your life in hiding. Now, I have to get back to work, but I can’t wait ‘til New Years to see the band play and meet Storm in person finally. Maybe he’ll autograph my boob.”

“That’s not even funny.”

I have a text from Storm waiting for me when I get back to my car.

Storm: Can you call me?

Me: No. I have to get back to work

Storm: How was lunch?

Me: Good. We had a nice talk. She’s looking forward to your show. She wants you to sign her boob

Storm: LMAO I wouldn’t do that

Me: I hope not!

Storm: I wouldn’t mind signing yours tho ;)

Me: I think I can pass on that.

Storm: Can you call me tonight? On your way home maybe?

Me: I’ll try

Storm: Try hard. I miss your voice.

Smiling, I stash my phone back in my purse and head back to the office. Today is my last day, and then I have five days off for Christmas. We usually go to Michael’s mom and dad’s house for Christmas dinner, and I can’t say that I ever enjoy it. They just watch television and eat, argue with each other, exchange a gift or two, and then we leave. I try to get along with his mom and sister, but they are not overly friendly so I usually occupy myself at their house by doing the dishes or reading his mom’s gossip magazines. Growing up, my family had wonderful Christmas dinners. My mom loved the holidays. She would decorate the house while my dad would string lights all over the house and yard. He would put up those plastic lit reindeer and snowmen. As a little girl, I loved it, and I couldn’t wait to grow up and have my own house to decorate.

On my way home from work, I stop at the grocery store so I can pick up some things to cook for the next week. I’m going to bake cookies, an apple pie, and make a ham for Michael because that’s his favorite. He promised he would be home for a few days, and I want to use this time to see if we can reconnect. It takes two to tango, so if something is wrong in our relationship, half of it is my fault, too. Hopefully, if I show him more attention, he’ll come around.

My phone beeps as I’m driving home so I check it when I stop at a red-light.

Storm: Hey, I was hoping to talk to you. I’m at the studio, but I can talk for a few

Frowning, I throw my phone back into my bag. I’m not going to reply or call him. I have a car full of groceries I just bought to make all of Michael’s favorite meals over the holiday. I need to stay focused.

I beat Michael home and have almost all the groceries put away when he walks in.

“Hey.” He throws his coat over the kitchen table. “What’s all this stuff?”

I turn and smile at him as I put the last of the canned goods into the cabinet. “I stopped at the grocery store on the way home, which was a total zoo, but I got everything so I can make our favorite dinners since we’re going to be home for a few days for the holiday. I got ham, and I’m going to make an apple pie and a pot roast—”

“Evelyn, I told you I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to take time off work.”

I stand there like an idiot holding a twelve-inch salami in one hand and a block of cheddar in the other. “But you said you were going to put a request in.”

“I know, and I talked to my boss about it, but it’s not a good time.”

My heart is sinking as he stands there eating one of the apples I bought for the pie. I can already see where this conversation is going, and I wish I could press the pause button and just make it stop. Disappointment is like a snake. It slithers in slowly. You can see it coming out of the corner of your eye, but you fear looking directly at it. Like if you don’t look at it, maybe it will turn and slither the other way. Away from me. It doesn’t though. It comes straight on, its tongue snipping out quickly, and attacks.

“I have to go out of town. I’m sorry, Evelyn. There’s nothing I can do. I tried to get out of it.”

I grab the frying pan off the stove, haul it back, and slam it into the side of his face. He crumples in a heap and drops the apple I had gently inspected in the produce aisle earlier, hoping to make him the perfect pie.

I shake my head. He’s still standing there, chewing. My quick fantasy of acting out my wrath on him dissipates.

Anger and disappointment are still there, though.

“Michael, it’s Christmas.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I talked to my mom. She said she would still love to have you. You don’t have to be alone. And I’ll be back the day after Christmas. The meeting is on the twenty-third. I am not going to even attempt to travel on the twenty-fourth or twenty-fifth, so I had the agent book me back on the twenty-sixth. It will probably still be a nightmare, but at least we’ll have the day after Christmas together.”

Oh, yeah. At least there’s that.

I would rather ram a pitchfork up my ass than spend Christmas alone with his family. I will sit here by myself and watch Halo as he plays with the ribbons on the wrapped presents and attempts to knock the tree over. I may even let him, just for the sheer entertainment of it. And cleaning it up will give me something to do.

Michael pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. “Ev, I know you’re upset and I’m sorry. You know how important this is. I really tried to get out of this, I swear to you. I’ve just worked so hard on this project and securing these contracts. I want the commission. It will help us so much. Please, understand.”

I encircle his waist and hug him back. I do know how important it all is to him. I’m not blind to how hard he works, how driven he is. I admire it most of the time, thankful he’s not lazy or an underachiever. I just hate how it has slowly torn us apart.

“It’s all right, Michael. I’m just disappointed. I was looking forward to a few days of real quality time with you. But you’re right. I’ll see you after Christmas, and we can celebrate our holiday then.”

“Good. Thank you for not throwing a fit over it, babe. I can’t deal with anymore stress right now. I’ll have a really nice present for you when I get back.” He squeezes my ass and let’s go of me to grab a soda from the fridge.

“I think I will stay home, though. I’d rather not go to your parents without you. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Okay, I’ll let her know. She’ll probably be glad to have two fewer people to have to cook for. We’ll visit them during the week or something.”

I nod, hoping he forgets that visit. “All right.”

“So New Year’s Eve. We’re still going to the VIP show for the band, right?”

I roll my eyes. I have never seen or heard Storm’s band play. I didn’t even look them up online. I want to be surprised when I finally hear his music, get to see him on stage doing what he does best. I want to enjoy every moment of what he does. Michael, however, has been a fan of the band for five years, unbeknownst to me. He can’t wait to see them play live, and I feel guilty and sick about it. How would he feel if he knew one of his favorite guitarists was chasing after his girlfriend?

“Yes, Storm told me it’s all fine. We’ll be sitting with his cousin and his date.”

Apparently, the show will be at a private club, one of the first they played at before they got big, with very limited access to guests. Storm assured me it would not be a crazy packed mess of screaming girls or headbangers and people standing all over the place. Being claustrophobic, I am not a fan of concerts at all, but I’m pretty sure I can get through his show without a panic attack. At least not a panic attack that is crowd-induced. Panic over the situation I’ve gotten myself into is another story entirely.

“I leave in the morning. Why don’t we go upstairs and watch TV in bed?”

I nod, reluctantly accepting the code words for ‘let’s go screw before I leave.’

Chapter Twelve

The day before Christmas Eve, I drag the fake tree out of the closet and assemble it. I debated not putting up any decorations, but they actually do make me happy because many of them belonged to my mother and seeing them out, lit up and pretty, remind me of her. So I embark on putting the tree up, decorating it, and then putting a few small decorations out around the living room. My favorite is a small ceramic gingerbread house and Christmas tree that lights up that I’m pretty sure my grandmother made at a ceramics class.