The Best of Us (Love in Isolation 2)

“Too bad we won’t be able to see it lit up.”

I nod.

“But we can still string the lights. And put on the ornaments,” she continues.

“You mean, you can. My job’s almost done, remember?”

“Har har.”

I grin. “Just following orders.”

Once it’s set up, Kendall continues feathering out the fake pine needles. Looking at it brings back lots of memories. It’s been years since my family has celebrated Christmas at the cabin, and a part of me misses it. Mom is a nut about the holidays and always tried to make it special when Cami and I were younger. After we learned the truth about Santa, the glitz and glam became more important than spending time together.

“I wish we could watch a Christmas movie or listen to music.”

“Thanksgiving hasn’t even happened yet,” I say, digging through the boxes for Cami’s favorite ornaments.

“So? Christmas season is November first through New Year’s.”

“Oh you’re one of those.” I snicker.

“Can you grab the box of lights I brought? I wasn’t sure if the ones here worked, but I think white twinkly lights would look awesome. You agree?”

I squeeze the back of my neck as I watch her. “Uh, sure.”

Kendall rolls her eyes. “That’s it, we’re singing carols to get you in the Christmas spirit.”

“No. I don’t sing,” I say firmly as I walk toward the extra lights Kendall packed.

“You can let your guard down, ya know? I won’t tell anyone.” She smiles, then winks. “Even if you suck at it, I won’t judge.”

The more time I spend with her, the more I warm up to her. Kendall is slowly tearing down my wall, and considering the situation we’re in, I’m not sure it’s a good idea that we try to get closer.

She continues to dig around in the box. “I’ll start and you chime in.” Kendall starts singing “All I Want For Christmas is You,” and it’s hard not to laugh at her infectious energy. Together, we string the lights, and though I don’t sing with her, I hum the tune as she bellows out the words.

I’m so entranced by her that instead of moving around the tree with the lights, I stay planted and she bumps into me. She looks up at me, and I smile back at her. The realization of how stress-free I feel for the first time in months nearly takes my breath away. The way she brightens up a room with her positive attitude and energy is becoming impossible to resist.

We finish with the lights and she dives back into the ornaments. Some are from my childhood and others she brought. It’s like going down memory lane digging through all the homemade and gifted ornaments that I haven’t seen in years.

“Do you remember that Christmas I came here with your family? I think Cami and I were like thirteen?” Kendall asks as we continue decorating.

How could I forget? I was seventeen and knew it was inappropriate to think my sister’s best friend was hot. To be fair, she had always looked older than she was and dressed like a typical Upper Eastside teenager in expensive designer clothes and shoes. She could’ve easily passed for an eighteen-year-old.

“Yeah,” I reply. “You and Cami were inseparable.”

She chuckles as she pulls out a fake beaded candy cane, then sets it to the side. “True.”

“You want garland? Or this tree topper?” I ask, changing the subject. I’m not sure where she was going with that, but our teenage years only reminds me of how out of her league I felt.

“Let’s save the garland for the mantel and yes to the star.” She holds out her hands, and I pass them to her. “I have some glittery ribbon we can add, though. Make it really pretty.”

Thirty minutes later, the tree is finally finished to Kendall’s liking. She adds a gold tree skirt and makes sure every part of it is perfect.

I cross my arms over my chest and stand back, staring at it. “Cami’s gonna love it,” I say sincerely. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she leaves it up all year long.”

“That’d be awesome. It really does add to the cabin.”

We clean up our mess and put the boxes in a corner so we can finish decorating the rest on another day. It’s starting to get dark in here, so I light some candles around the room.

“Are you getting hungry?” I ask.

“Starving! I’m craving seafood pasta so bad right now.” She pouts.

I walk to the kitchen, chuckling as I open the pantry. “Well, I can’t do that, but maybe a can of tuna?”

“That’s just depressing.” She laughs. “We can’t even make a tuna melt.”

“Well, you can put it on crackers,” I add.

“I guess. And maybe some wine.”

“That’s the grossest combination I’ve ever heard,” I say, laughing.

“Okay, save the wine for after. We’re gonna need it tonight.”

I give her a skeptical look. “We will?”