“Jerk…” But he’s right, I really hate the cold and am honestly a little jealous that he traveled back to Southern California while I traveled to my hometown for the holiday. My hometown, Fisher Creek, is the epitome of a small town and there is a reason most of our graduating class left without looking back. I fully intended on being one of them like my sister, Penelope, but things changed. This is the first holiday season without my beloved grandmother and all I want is to spend it with my family and a bottle of wine.
“It's eighteen degrees, not including the wind, and I’m not even caffeinated yet,” I grumble, starting the car and blasting the heat.
“You’re a grump this morning. I was just curious if you finally said yes to hanging out with Noah tonight?”
My entire body tenses at the sound of Noah’s name and the fact that he asked to get drinks while I’m home. We were inseparable in high school, the best of friends, until, well, we just weren’t.
But time does that to people, right? They move to different cities, take different life paths, and just grow apart.
“I don’t know. I only get to see the boys for a few days a year, I should probably just stay in with the family,” I blurt out as quickly as possible, trying to avoid thinking too much about the topic. Everyone who knows Noah and me knows that I have such a soft spot for this man even after all these years, even after everything that happened.
“Stop being a chicken, your family is going to go to bed at eight p.m, and then you’re going to be bored. Go out! Plus, you never know what might happen,” he says, and I can hear the smirk on his face as he says that last bit. Living with Mason means he is fully aware of my love life and all of its crazy ups and downs.
“Goodbye, Mason, I’m going to get coffee now,” I say as I hang up the phone before he can badger me anymore regarding my relationship status.
Mason and I have been friends since we both moved to Milwaukee for PT school. He moved out of Southern California to experience something different. He wanted to see the snow and cold, and for whatever reason was a big Bucks fan. I moved to Milwaukee to move off the farm but stay close enough to go home if necessary. Little did we know, we moved into the same neighborhood, and were in all of the same introduction classes at school. That first day, I walked into the large 150-person lecture hall and just stopped. I have always been relatively reserved, and never really flourished in big crowds. And then, there I was in a new city, a new school, knowing no one aside from some faces I recognized from the required class Facebook page.
Mason walked in behind me, stopped next to me, smiled, and said, “Come on, let’s go sit.” Then ushered me toward the middle of the big hall before I could nod in agreement. We have been friends since that day ten years ago, living together for the last nine of them.
I hear the ridiculous quacking text tone of my group chat with Mason, Caroline and Savannah, reminding me to silence my phone before getting to the coffee shop. Even ten years later, I’m still baffled that I haven’t changed the tone yet. When we first started the group chat to plan nights out and keep track of everyone it was a quiet little chat only used when necessary but the closer we became as friends the louder the chat got. I frequently ignored the chat on the premise that it was just a text notification like any other text I got. Until Caroline had my phone one night and changed the ringtone to the most annoying duck noise she could find in the phone setting under the premise that I would never ignore a text that reminded me of home. She then proceeded to leave the ringer on and tell everyone to avoid the group chat until the next morning when they blew it up while I was contemplating my night choices. And yet after all these years and jokes later, I never changed it.
I ignore the text as I pull up to the local coffee shop, Creek and Kettle. After parking, crossing the snowy street, and ordering my decadent hot peppermint mocha, I sit down at a little wooden table and look around amazed at how timeless our community is.
Julianna, the owner, played on my high school soccer team and went on to get a degree in business administration before returning to our hometown to open up this coffee shop. The building was a breakfast restaurant until the owner passed away and there was no family to take over the business.
When Julianna bought it, she kept everything. And I mean literally everything, the old tables, booths, bar stools, everything. The only difference is that she refurbished it all so they have the old-timey look and feel, but, functionally, are brand new. She maintained the brick interior wall and turned it into a beautiful accent piece to draw attention to the large picture windows in the front.
I look up from my small table and can remember back to being a child and having breakfast here with my grandparents, looking at the same beautiful Christmas decorations that I see now.
If there is one thing this small town does well, it’s Christmas. Nothing changes year after year but it never fails that I'm always mesmerized by the beauty and dedication everyone has to the holidays and traditions.
Pulling out my phone, I see that the text isn’t from the group chat, but from him. And I'm instantly transported back in time.
Chapter 4
Noah
Beinghomeaftersomany years is always weird. The steadiness of the house, the clean air, the smell of the lake with every step outside, and the snow. The biggest thing that gets to me about being home is the constant thoughts of Olivia. It’s been too many years since we have seen each other. Since everything changed.
I'm not the same person I was then. I have witnessed unspeakable things and have traveled across the world…and she is a doctor now. I overheard Cole at the gym telling someone about the volunteer work she does with various Milwaukee organizations. She’s a doctor who is coming home for the first time since her grandmother died and is considering seeing me.
“You should see if she wants to get drinks” I hear my sister call from the bathroom as she is getting ready for school this morning.
“I have,” I growl back at her.
“Well, try harder, it's the first time you’re both back at the same time, and I miss”
I slam the door shut before she can finish that sentence. Even though I know she’s right. Bec is almost always right.
Ollie is more than my best friend's sister. She’s always been more. She's a part of this family. Bec looks up to her and Ollie takes care of her as if she were her own biological sister. She brings cards and still texts Mom on all important dates and always thinks about my family.
I need to do something, anything. Anything to distract me from the fact that she still has not texted me back. We have always kept in intermittent contact. Text messages on birthdays and holidays but nothing more than niceties and formalities. I want to believe that most of that was due to being in the Army and having deployed overseas time and time again, I can’t help but think about what would be different now if I had acted differently on that day all those years ago.
I grab a light jacket, slide on my running shoes, grab Archie’s leash, and whistle for my four-legged best friend. Archie comes walloping down the hallway at full speed wiggling with big fluffy ears flapping and tongue sticking out the side of his mouth. He knows what time it is. I may only get to see this big goofy mutt when I’m home on leave, but he is my favorite running partner. We open the front door and set off, one step at a time. The blinding reflection of the sun off the snow causes us to be cautious the first few steps not to slip on any snow or ice.
Running, or exercise in general, has always been the best way for me to clear my mind and avoid shutting down or acting irrationally. I learned this relatively quickly after my dad died and everything went to shit.
My therapist at the time suggested I needed an outlet of some sort, specifically a healthy outlet. Mom’s depression was getting worse, and I was an angry high school boy trying to hold everything together while mourning the loss of my father. And there was just one night I couldn’t keep it together anymore. My options were to lose my absolute shit on my kid sister who didn’t understand why Mom was still in bed refusing to get up, to eat, or play with her, or to yell at my already broken mother.
