Kissing Kringle - A Forever Safe Christmas

Using my phone’s flashlight, I walk up the cluttered path to the front door. I dodge toys, bikes, used needles and condoms as I do so. I’m getting more and more upset with each step I take. Where the fuck am I right now? It looks like a fucking war zone. I reach her door, 148B, and knock. The porch light flickers on and about ten locks unlock before the door swings open. My girl steps into view.

“Nick? How did you find me? You shouldn’t be here,” she whispers frantically.

“This is where you live?” I ask harshly pushing the door open. The living room is cluttered, hoarder style and smells like a brewery.

“Don’t you dare judge my house mister high and mighty. I didn’t invite you in,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s wearing cute snowman pajama pants and a tiny tank top.

“I ain’t judging, baby girl. I’m concerned for you,” I answer honestly, though I note she said house and not home.

“Who was at the door, dummy? If its people pushing religion, tell ’em we don’t want any. And get me another beer,” a woman shouts from the other side of the magazine fort. Kristina closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens them again, they are swimming in tears.

“That’s my mother,” she whispers as the tears fall. “You were the one person I didn’t want to see this,” she admits.

“You gonna answer me? Or did you forget how to speak, you idiot?” The woman shouts coming around the corner. “Well, my, my, my who’s this tall drink of water?”

“I’m Nicolas, Kristina’s boyfriend.”

“Oh. I’m her mama, Frances. You want a beer? She’s a good beer fetcher. ‘Bout all she can do.”

“No, thank you. Where’s your room, Kristina?”

“It’s this way,” she says. I hate the fact that she’s resigned herself to this life. I’m about to change that shit. She should live like the queen she is.

“What about my beer?” Frances shouts as we take off down the short hallway.

“You might want to get that yourself,” I shout back. The place is so damn small, it takes about a second to get to her room. Inside the room is completely different from the rest of the house. It’s clean, for one thing. There’s a bunk bed in one corner and a tiny tv in the other and that’s it. No posters, no pictures, nothing. There’s another girl laying on the top bunk, working from a textbook.

“Should I go, Kris?” The girl asks. When she turns her head toward us, I notice the shiner she has around her left eye.

“No. You can’t go out there with her,” Kristina answers. “What are you doing here, Nick? Answer me this time.”

“You named the baby,” I tell her.

“Everyone needs a name,” she says quietly.

“You don’t live here anymore,” I say trying the heavy-handed approach. I expect her to balk at that. Instead, she surprises me.

“Where do I live now?”

“My house out on Long Island.” She nods.

“I can’t go anywhere without my sister,” she says.

“Agreed,” I say before kissing her.

“Pack what you can’t live without, ladies. I’ll replace what you can leave. I don’t want you here a second longer than necessary. In the end, they each take their backpacks and a couple of changes of clothes. Neither of them has a decent coat and the heat wasn’t on in the house. Out in the living room, I can hear their mother shouting. “Is anyone else here?” I ask confused.

“Nope,” Kristina says.

“God. Let’s go,” I say leading the way back to the front door. Suddenly, glass shatters behind me. When I stop and turn to look, another glass lands in the same spot. Kristina jumps in front of her sister.

“Where do you worthless bitches think you’re going?” Frances rages, throwing magazines at the girls, hitting her marks. Fuck this shit. I grab Kristina’s hand and the other girl’s upper arm and drag them out of the house. Even once the door is closed, Frances’s crazy-ass screaming can still be heard. As we are walking down the nightmare of a path to the SUV, I’m suddenly glad I drove it this morning. My sports car only seats two. I get their things in the back and crank the car, getting the heat going. As we pull off, her sister shoves her hand in the front seat.

“I’m Deanna, by the way,” she says. I shake her hand as best I can from this angle. She settles back and I get us the hell out of there.

What the fuck was that shit show?

Chapter 6

Kristina

I cannot believe this is my life right now. I stare out the window of his fancy car. Frances was on a wild rager when I got home, and I had decided that enough was enough. She hit Deanna when I wasn’t there, and it was the last straw. I have enough saved up so that we could spend a couple of days at a hotel and I was just biding my time until the wicked witch of the drunk zone fell asleep before we made our move to leave. Then Nick shows up like a fucking knight in shining armor, coming to take me away from the horrible place that I call a house. I slide my hand through the crack of the seat between the door and hold D’s hand. She gives mine a squeeze and I know that everything will be alright, as long as we stick together.