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We sat the entire day and decorated ornaments, strung cranberries and popcorn, and eventually wrapped twinkling lights around the tree. Most of the day, Olive snapped at Espie and I for getting off track. One of the times I pulled her to the center of the room during ‘rocking around the Christmas tree’, and showed her a simple three-step dance.
I twirled her around in her white nightgown once belonging to my mother, and long knit sweater— red and cream striped— and I remember thinking she had never looked more beautiful. It was strange being okay with these thoughts. Christmas magic, maybe? It all got to my brain, and I was suffering in this alternate reality where she and I were really engaged, but we were happy.
Something I haven’t truly felt in a long time.
There are just some things in life that when you experience them over and over, they begin to feel normal. Occasionally, that’s a good thing— like me not wanting to feel any pain, so I rarely do— but this was an odd moment for me. One that I’ll remember for a long time, against my will. Not because it was in any way painful when it happened, but because the pain of life not looking like this for someone like me, with someone I want to be with, is undeniable and unavoidable. No matter how much I drink, smoke, or fuck with Espie— which is honestly better than being wasted or high off nicotine.
The day was good, though, besides Olive’s annoying snapping in our faces and Barth eventually joining us. I did have a chat with him after that evening because he was getting far too close to Olive considering his age and her family name. And the obvious fact that he went behind my back to follow her orders and not mine about Christmas decorations and trees. It’s a ruleOtetsmade when we were young, right after he killed our mother and his brother for all the shit they did behind his back.
He was always a bitter man, but thereafter, he became brutal— sociopathic in a way. And maybe he was always like that— could be that the harsh shock of my mother's death made me grow up enough to notice it. Either way, my childhood was mostly over after that. So, no Christmas decor because my mother loved Christmas and anything she loved, my father despises.
But that night was strangely rewarding for me. Like I was gaining something back I had lost all of those years in empty homes on the holidays. Espie let me— ordered me to— decorate the topper, which looked like a botched experiment of gold glitter and an abstract shape somewhat resembling a star. Her reasoning was that I was the only one tall enough to reach the top of the tree without a ladder. So, I did the final honors of placing the gold monster on top of the tree. All four of us looked at the glowing tree up and down just as the sun set, and I offered to go make everyone hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls.
Espie insisted on coming with me, but I wanted to avoid raising any suspicions. I was a little more cautious back then of that, but not anymore. Caution is less of a factor now that I nearly have Espie ready to fully give herself to me.
Anyway, I said no, of course, and we got into this fight that ended with Olive and Barth insisting we go together to shut us both up. I begrudgingly agreed, and we went down to the kitchen together. The staff cleared out the second we arrived, like they knew they were supposed to, just because it was Espie and I.
I had a quiet chuckle about it, but Espie was a bit frazzled, thinking they assumed we’d be doing other things. I liked that look on her incredible face. Her cheeks flushed, eyes worried, rosy lips puffing out like she might cry at any moment.
“You’re being a baby.” I jested with her, earning me a glare that burnt a hole in the back of my head. Still, I smiled, proceeding through the pantry and fridge while she watched.
“Thought you just had to come with me?” I perked up, hands full, butter stick under my chin. She shrugged at this, just shrugged, and I think I realized another part of her at that moment. She’s never had to be proactive. Not a day in her life. Everyone has always told her what to do and how to do it and when it should be executed at the proper time.
When it comes to moments of action, she doesn’t know what to do, and I think I liked that because it meant the thing between us would be helping her. Not that I’m giving handouts or starting to do charity work or some shit like that. I’m not becoming some saint… what I mean is that is fucking around is clearly good for her. She’s finally spreading her wings from the nest.
When I break this contract, she'll be able to decide who she wants to marry. And it won’t be anyone’s choice but her own. It is perplexing why, then and now, it’s given me another reason to keep going. And about half-way through us fucking around, I needed that motivation because every time we’d do shit, I’d forget why I wanted to break us apart.
Then I get reminded, and it’s like I have to start a fight with her to break up the shit that feels too good to be true. There’s nothing else I can do but hate her or make her hate me bad enough that we stop this shit. That only brings me back to square one.
I need to end this with her, and the only way to do that is to seduce her into having sex with me, and this will all be done with.Otetswill never let me marry someone who’s already been, ‘deflowered’, he’s a man of tradition— a sadist, definitely, but he’s nothing if not traditional.
That Christmas Eve, though, I let myself be happy. And it was nice, and honestly, I’d never say this out loud, but it felt good. Not the kind of good that you get when everything is just fine, neither black nor white. But good, like this lasting happiness in the pit of my stomach from laughing and cooking with Espie— who I forced to take over making the cinnamon rolls, though she was nervous about them at first.
It’s a pleasant memory, one that makes me feel warm just thinking about it, but ultimately, this shower that I’m in, reminds me of it, not because of its warmth but because of how alone I feel. The smoke clouding around me like I’m in a void, echoing water splashing and cracking on the stone below my feet.
After the stupid fire this morning, interrupting Espie, and I’s moment, we decided to part ways to wash up and meet later tonight. I suggested a walk through the town, but she wanted to pitch a tent on the roof and have a movie night with fairy lights and warm blankets.
She’s not subtle anymore about what she really wants to do. I can still picture that dress she wore this morning like she’s standing right in front of me. She’s fucking hot, always has been, but holy shit, I almost lost my eyes from how hard I was staring at her in that thing. All pink and silky and soft like her amazing skin that I saw plenty of this morning, but plenty is never enough with us. It’s why I planned to have sex with her— proper sex— this morning.
Fuck that, though. The rooftop tent sounds pretty good to me.
I turn the shower off and step out, reaching for the plush black towel by my shoulder and quickly wiping myself off.
It’s not long before I’m dressed in Versace from head to toe. We don’t go out much, so it’s nothing fancy. Just aMedusa Music Hoodie— black sleeves and hood, purple torso and this sick ornate peridot and rose design. With that, I toss on some blackMedusa Greca Cargo Pantswith extra pockets— they’re basically sweats.
I shake a hand through my hair to dry it a bit more. Though, it always has a mind of its own, curling at the edges in different directions on some days and others it just looks like a choppy mess. I don’t care much anyhow. Kind of like it that way. After grabbing some old school Versace socks in mint, I slide to the door, pulling it open.
I’m ready to talk to Barth about pulling out the old tent from the garage that my brothers and I used to camp in the library with. But before I can get too far out the door, I run into someone. Olive is standing, arms folded over her chest, a look of shock and irritation all over her face as she steps a few inches back from me.
“Oops.” I bare my teeth in a slight grimace to apologize without having to say sorry.
“Espie wanted me to tell you that I’ll be coming along on your dates from now on.” I furrow my brows.
“She’s my fiancée.”
She cocks her head like this is the dumbest shit she’s ever heard come out of my mouth, and I cock my head right back at her because what the fuck?
“You two really are something…” she mumbles under her breath, but I make it out anyway, and I think she wanted me to.
