“How old are you?” He asks.
“Almost twenty-four.” I reply. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”
“I thought you don’t like men who date younger women?” Considering he just murdered a man for that reason, seems a bit hypocritical.
“No. I don’t like men who dateunderage girls.There’s a big difference.” Fair point. “When is your birthday? Since you’re almost twenty-four.”
“December 24th.”
“Your birthday is Christmas Eve?” He leans forward like the revelation jolts his body with electricity. I nod. “How can someone with a birthday on Christmas Eve not like Christmas?”
“It’s my turn to ask a question,” I remind him. “What do you do with the hearts?”
Cole leans back, eyeing me for a moment with a smile I can’t decipher playing across his lips. For a moment I fear he won’t answer. And like the rest of Michigan, I’m dying to know. I doubt he’d just throw them away. But what does a man in his early thirties do with three hearts a year? Maybe the theories about him being a Hannibal Lecter are true.
Does he consume them with a nice Chianti?
In the realm of possibilities, I was not expecting him to say, “Snowglobes.”
A beat passes before I repeat his statement, trying to make sense of it. “Snowglobes?”
“I make snowglobes with them. It’s my yearly tradition. I even hollow them out so I can put one of those battery operated lights in the hearts. You should see the way they glow. It’s magical.”
“Are you serious?” The question slips out before I can catch it.
“As a heart attack.” I’m learning Cole’s sense of humor is as dark as his hobbies. “Alright, it’s my turn again. Why the crusade on Christmas?”
I knew this question was coming but I still don’t love talking about it. I’m sure he’s expecting some tragic story like daddy dresses up as Santa and got stuck in the chimney, but the reality is much less exciting.
“It’s just…” a huff of air leaves me as I try to form the right words. “Christmas has never been a happy time for me. I don’t have good memories of this time of year. I have a series of disappointments.”
“But your birthday is Christmas Eve?” He states this fact as if it can magically heal all wounds.
“Which means it’s often forgotten.” A fact everyone with a December birthday knows all too well. “My parents chose the day after Christmas to tell me they were getting divorced. My first boyfriend in high school broke up with me right before Christmas break. Last year my mom chose to go on a trip with her new husband and his kids for the holiday but didn’t bother to invite me. Not to mention I’m painfully alone every year. So no, I don’t like Christmas.”
I hate the pitying look on Cole’s face. Droopy eyes, lopsided frown, slightly tilted head taking in my pathetic state. Unable to bear the depressing silence any longer I continue our pattern.
“Do you have any pets?”
He’s been stroking a hand down Sasha’s back this whole time. Moving to scratch under her chin, Cole replies, “Not until we agree to a shared custody of this little angel.”
“Even my cat barely tolerates me.” I joke. But I look at the feistyfeline with affection because even though she sets the terms of our relationship, I love that little furball.
“What do you do for work?” Cole changes the conversation to something easier to answer.
“I’m a middle school health teacher.” I don’t know what Cole expected my career to be, but he seems taken aback by that answer. “I want to be a history teacher but there are no positions in the area for that department. So I took the role that was available. It’s a good school, decent benefits, and one of the history teachers is getting close to retirement. So if I stick it out in the health department for a few years, hopefully I’ll be considered for the position.”
“Well I admire your ability to look at the bigger picture and not just the right now.” The warmth that swells in my chest from his kind words is unexpected. Who knew I needed the validation from a complete stranger so much.
There have been so many points in life where I wonder if I’m making the right decisions. Especially at this age, I wonder if I’m supposed to have my life more together or if I’m right where I need to be. Social media makes it look like I should be jetting off to a new country every year and debt free by now. But those student loans are still sitting there. And I’m trying to put in the grunt work now so I can invest in my future.
Breaking me out of this train of thought, Cole asks with a quick glance around the room, “Do you have any snacks? Murder makes me hungry.”
Chapter Eight
Cole
