“Is there a God?” Saint sat on the bed, opened the binder, and browsed all of my Grandma’s secret recipes. “I miss you already, ma’am.”
More tears came.
A knock came at the door.
Wiping the tears away, he rushed to close the binder, placed it under his pillow, and yelled, “Come in!”
Young Me stepped through.
I parted my lips as I studied her in. My breasts were close to fully developed. My hips had widened. While I wore a loose-fitting black dress that passed my knees, it did not do a good job of hiding my new curves.
“Now, I know what this is,” I whispered, “It’s Grandma’s funeral.”
The glowing ghost came to my side. “This is odd.”
“Why?”
“It’s not Christmas.”
“Almost. She died the first day of December.” Sorrow overtook me. “I hate this month.”
Saint rose and embraced my younger self. “I’m so sorry, Ivy.”
He wrapped his arms tight around her waist. She lay her head on his chest but didn’t hug him back. No tears left her eyes although devastation filled them.
A sad expression covered Saint’s face. “Ivy, tell me what you need.”
She closed her eyes. “Just don’t leave me for a while, Saint.”
“I’ll be right here.”
Another knock came. Saint’s mother yelled through the door. “Honey, have you seen Ivy? Her father is here.”
Terror filled Young Me’s eyes. She left Saint’s embrace and shook her head.
Saint nodded. “No, Mom. I haven’t seen Ivy since the funeral. She must be in Holly’s room.”
“I already checked,” she said through the door. “Holly left to get more juice with Nikolas.”
“Then she probably went with them.”
“Okay.” His mother sounded worried. “If you hear from them, let me know.”
Young Ivy returned to Saint’s embrace. This time she held him back. “Thank you. I can’t see him. It’s been so long and I still hate him.”
“I know.”
“I won’t go stay with him. I’ll run away if I have to.”
“Maybe you can finish high school here and live with us.”
“You’re parents probably wouldn’t like that.”
“They love you as much as they love us.”
“It would be asking too much.”
“Holly and I would give them hell if they didn’t agree.”
“That’s too much, Saint.”
“I would do anything for you, Ivy.” Saint held her tighter. “Whatever you need. Just tell me.”
Her voice was soft and sad. “Thank you. Holly has always been a sister to me, and you a brother.”
Saint frowned. “I see it differently.”
She raised her head and looked at him. “How?”
He opened his mouth and then closed it.
“Saint?” She left his embrace. “Do you. . .want me to leave or—”
Fast, he closed the distance, took her in his arms, and kissed her. She gasped as his tongue went in her mouth.
“Wow.” I held myself, remembering that moment as if it were yesterday. “How did I. . .forget about this?”
The next minute, he let her go and stepped back.
She widened her eyes and held her hands to the side. No words left her opened mouth.
“That wasn’t a good idea.” Saint ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, but your grandmother said not to even think about it until you had a college degree, which I thought was crazy but. . .”
My younger self stood frozen, listening to him.
“Not that she was crazy.” Saint looked down at his feet. “I’m going to miss her and. . .I wanted to hug you all day because you looked so sad. You looked. . .how I felt and. . .and when you came so close to me all I could think about was kissing you. It just sucks that I did it today.”
Young Me stepped forward. Her hands shook at her sides. “Could you. . .”
Saint looked at her. “What?”
“Could you do that again?”
Saint didn’t spend a second thinking about it. He had her back in his arms and his mouth on hers in seconds.
I reached my hands out, wanting to touch them. It was so odd. I know that it was me right there, but. . .I still felt like an outsider, yearning to be a part of this private moment.
The glowing man’s voice sounded. “Ivy.”
I dragged my view from them. “Yes?”
He pointed to the opened doorway, showing the swirling red energy.
“Of course. Always when it’s getting good.” I walked over to the doorway and stepped through.
I returned to Saint’s bedroom again. This time it was dark. Christmas lights hung along the ceiling. Baby, It’s Cold Outside played in the background. I knew what was happening without even having to look at the bed.
I whispered, “Our senior year.”
There, teenaged versions of Saint and I made out on his bed with their clothes off. Since Holly and he were Seniors in high school and didn’t want to do the typical Christmas celebration, their parents decided to go to Hawaii instead. They left us with strict instructions—no guests, parties, or ordering out.