Page 21 of Pretty Thing

“The freezer. It was in a jar. I took the one with the oldest date.”

My lower lip shakes. There were ten bottles of sauce in the freezer from the last batch my mom made, but now…there are only nine.

“Please don’t use those again,” I say, pain lancing my heart even though I know it wasn’t Felix’s fault.

“Oh…okay. I just thought…”

“I know what you thought.” I glance at him as a tear rolls free. “Just please don’t use those again,” I say, like Felix cooking me dinner is the norm.

“Alright. Um…do you want to watch a movie?”

“Sure, whatever you want…just not anything Christmassy.”

“Done.”

Felix chats as he flips through the channels, but all I can do is stare at the bare tree in the corner. Not a single colorful light or decoration to be seen, as if the tree knows that no one other than me will sit here and appreciate it ever again.

six

​. . .​

Felix

Snow crunches beneath my boot and the stupid Aircast as I climb the steps to Eden’s porch. I’m holding two coffees in a tray that is supposed to be helpful but feels more like a circus balancing act. Nestled between the steaming drinks is a paper bag from a local bakery.

The harsh cold clears my head better than the ice-cold shower I took earlier. Being around Eden is…difficult.

I barely slept, but not because of pain.

Eden fell asleep against me, her breathing slow, her face lax in rest, and I didn’t want to miss a single moment. She cried softly on and off as if something inside her had split open beyond repair.

I hate that pained expression and when she looks at me, my heart aches with each beat. And fuck…I like that she let me hold the world together for her, even if only for a few hours. But…she’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.

I wanted to run a few errands including getting a clean change of clothes, so I covered her with a blanket and left her resting peacefully on the couch.

I dislike that Eden is thirty minutes away from my place, but I’ll make it work…for now. I called my employee, who also happens to be my only friend, Matt, and told him I wouldn’t be in and to take the day off. Then I put a closed sign in my store window and hightailed it back here.

The porch light bulb is yellow and dull against the grey morning and needs to be changed before it burns out. I stare at it and decide to fix the problem, so Eden doesn’t get hurt.

My knuckles connect with the wooden door twice. No answer, so I wait another minute and then knock again.

Still nothing.

A strange pressure crawls up the back of my neck that is close to panic. What if she fell and can’t get up? What if someone broke in and hurt her? There is something deeply wrong with me that I’ll break down the door to the house to make sure she’s okay.

One of my errands was to make a copy of Eden’s house key and I quickly fish it out of my pocket. It’s supposed to be only for emergencies, and this can be counted as an emergency. I unlock the door and step inside.

“Eden?”

The house smells faintly of cinnamon and pine with a lingering of fabric softener. I close the door quietly behind me and take off my boot, but leave the Aircast in place.

“Eden?” I call again, louder this time.

She is no longer on the couch. I look up when I hear movement above me.

My body reacts before my brain catches up, and I’m already taking the stairs two at a time despite the ache in my foot. I really should just abandon the air cast, it’s totally overkill. I’ve had much worse breaks skateboarding and barely feel the pain in my left foot.

“Shit,” I mutter, reaching the top landing.