The Christmas Blanket

“Well, what am I supposed to do? You don’t have a television. Or Internet. And apparently having a conversation is off the table.”

I could almost hear the grinding of his jaw as he turned his attention back to his book. “I’ve got a whole shelf of books over there.”

“I don’t feel like reading.”

“Well, read, or don’t read, I don’t care. But whatever you do, be quiet about it.”

I sighed, heavy and loud, just to earn myself one more glare over that book. I couldn’t help it. I smirked when he looked away again.

The only light left on in the place was a tall lamp in the corner, and it cast a warm glow over half his face, leaving the rest in shadows. I wondered how he could read with the light in front of him instead of behind him, and again found myself wanting to point that out and make his life easier by advising he switch chairs, but I held back.

Partly because with the way he sat now, I could study his face.

I couldn’t explain the rollercoaster of emotions I’d felt since seeing him out on the road. In fact, I wasn’t sure I’d allowed myself to feel anything at all until that very moment that I watched him reading, his brows bent together, frown firmly in place like the book he was supposedly taking so much pleasure in was actually bringing him great pain.

It just felt… odd, to be there with him again. To be around a cabin full of things that smelled like him, and yet nothing like the way our home used to smell when we had one together. He was the same boy I’d loved for most of my life, and yet he wasn’t a boy at all any longer.

When I blinked, he was throwing his arm around me after a baseball game, sweaty and smelly, but I leaned into him, anyway. I blinked again, and I saw him laughing under a handful of rice as we walked out of the church by the lake. Another blink, and he was holding me as I cried after burning my first attempt at my mother’s chicken casserole in our new home.

Every blink, a new memory.

I was lost in those tiny specks of time until River glanced up at me, those piercing green eyes finding mine, and I tore my gaze away quickly, looking out the window again.

I wished I was home.

I was supposed to be with Mom and Dad and my little sister, Beth. I was supposed to be eating pumpkin pie and watching Christmas movies. I was supposed to be listening to Christmas music as we all sat around the tree, or drinking hot chocolate on the porch, or decorating cookies like Beth and I did as kids.

I was not supposed to be stuck in an old cabin with my ex.

I fought the urge to sigh again as I looked around at the utter lack of Christmas cheer. He did have a tree in the corner, between the fireplace and the window, but it looked like it had been placed by someone else. It was in a stand without a skirt to cover it, and it didn’t have a single decoration on it — no lights, no garland, no tinsel or ornaments. And aside from that tree? There was nothing. Not a single stocking or wreath or even a freaking candy cane. The entire place was void of anything that would hint that Christmas was the day after tomorrow.

And suddenly, I had an idea.

“I know what I can do,” I announced, popping off the couch. Moose lifted his head and one ear, watching me in a sleepy daze before his head rested on his paws again.

“Oh yippee, it’s a Christmas miracle,” River mumbled.

I rolled my eyes, walking over to stand proudly in front of him. “I’m going to decorate.”

It was his turn to sigh, and he held his place in his book with one thumb before looking up at me. “Do what?”

“I’m going to decorate. You need some holiday spirit in here.”

He blinked. “I don’t have space for holiday spirit.”

“Sure, you do. I mean, you’ve already got the biggest part,” I said, pointing at the bare tree. “It’s just sad that you have that whole tree and not a single thing on it.”

River glanced at the tree with a look I couldn’t decipher, and then his eyes found mine again.

“Come on,” I begged. “You’ve got to have a box of Christmas decorations.”

The heavy sigh he let loose next made me smile.

“You do, don’t you? Where is it?”

“The loft,” he said, nodding up toward the ceiling behind me. I followed his gaze and found a small, triangle loft that fit with the roof of the cabin, settled right above the bed. I wasn’t sure how I’d missed it before, and I found myself wondering why he hadn’t done something with it. It didn’t look to be that large, at least from this angle, but it would be enough to have a small sitting area, or perhaps another bed, or a reading nook.