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I didn’t have a lot of friends. And I didn’t really have time for them, since Lincoln and I basically existed in our own little world. But we did have our little crew that was like family to us. And Blake had now joined Ari in that crew.
Blake and I chatted about my classes and some campaigns she’d done, along with how the guys’ season was going.
It had been really hard for Lincoln not having Ari on the team. But he seemed really confident that Ari was going to “lock it up” and be back in Dallas with Blake next season.
And yes, I had asked what “lock it up” meant in that context…since you could never be sure with Lincoln.
His answer had been vague.
Staring at Blake though, whatever Ari was doing, he was doing it well. She’d had a haunted look in her eyes when I’d met her that first night in the bar. And now, just a few months later, that look was almost gone.
It was another reason that I felt so bonded to her…I’d had that haunted look in my eyes before Lincoln as well.
My phone buzzed.
Lincoln: I fucking miss you.
Me: Me too.
It was a crazy thing that you could miss someone like this. Lincoln and I didn’t get tired of each other. Sometimes I thought maybe we should take a minute away from each other…that it would be healthy.
But Lincoln always quickly convinced me why that wasn’t a good idea.
Mabel came then with the tea service. I was pretty sure that most flights—even private—did not come with tea service. But Mabel and Edna were very insistent on it every flight.
“It was good for the soul,” or something like that.
Instead of her usual sweater and skirt uniform, Mabel was wearing a Christmas cat sweater today that said “Meowy Christmas – I'm Feline Festive.” A quick glance at Blake and she was just as amused as I was judging by the wide grin on her face as she stared at Mabel.
“We’ve whipped up some sugar cookies to go with this apple cinnamon tea, darlins’,” she told us as she poured the steaming tea into Christmas themed china she’d pulled off a tea cart.
Edna slipped past Mabel to hand us a tray of decorated Christmas cookies. The cookies themselves were an assortment of shapes, meticulously frosted with vibrant red and green icing, forming intricate designs of snowflakes, candy canes, and jolly Santas. The sugary coating glistened on top.
And my mouth was already watering.
For a second a memory filtered in.
I was seven years old, and it was Christmas time at my elementary school. Mrs. Rawlings had handed out these wonderful sugar cookies, each one shaped like a beautiful Christmas tree with red and green frosting. It felt like a little piece of holiday magic in my hand.
As the other kids excitedly nibbled on their cookies, I decided to save mine. It was going to be a special treat for my mom when I got home. I gently wrapped the cookie in a napkin and tucked it into my tiny backpack, careful not to let it break.
When I finally walked through the door of our small, sad apartment, I was bursting with anticipation. My mom was there, but she was in a state I had seen all too often, lost in her own world with the smell of alcohol heavy in the air.
"Mom," I had whispered, tiptoeing closer, my heart pounding with excitement, "I brought you a Christmas cookie."
She turned to me, her eyes unfocused and bleary, and for a moment, I wasn't sure if she even knew I was there. But then, with a sudden, reckless gesture, she snatched the cookie from my hand, her laugh more like a cruel, mocking cackle.
With a swift, heart-wrenching motion, she threw the beautiful cookie to the ground. It shattered into a million crumbs, its festive shape obliterated, and my heart shattered with it.
My hand moved away from the tray, my appetite suddenly gone.
“You know, I made this one especially for you, sweetheart,” Mabel said sweetly, reaching over and grabbing a Christmas tree of all things from the tray Edna was holding. She placed it in my hand and I stared at the red and green icing on top for a few seconds before lifting it up to my mouth.
Everything else Lincoln had me do this Christmas had worked like magic to erase the darkness of my past.
Maybe this would too.
I took a bite of the cookie. The sweet, buttery flavor filled my mouth, and it was like a little piece of heaven. Mabel was chattering away about how it was an old family recipe that she had decided to share with Edna.
