Mr Spencer (Mr. 2)
“Hello, Spencer,” they greet me.
“How long has she been home?” I ask just to make conversation.
“She left work early today, so she’s been home for a few hours now.”
I frown, that’s strange. “Have a good night,” I say to them before I walk into my apartment.
The television is on, the lights are off, the apartment in darkness. A feeling of unease fills me.
“Angel?” I call.
No answer.
I walk out into the living room to see her sitting on the floor, tears streaming down her face. My face falls.
“What’s wrong?” I crouch beside her and notice that there are boxes of Christmas decorations sitting next to the Christmas tree box I got out of storage yesterday.
I pull Charlotte onto my lap and hold her tight, listening as her quiet sadness turns to loud sobs.
“Baby?” I whisper as I rock her.
After a moment, she speaks quietly. “I just don’t think I can do it.”
“What?”
“Can we go to Santorini now?”
“What… why? What’s happened?”
“How can it possibly be Christmas without your family?” she whispers through her tears. “Can we just skip it this year? I promise, next year I’ll make it up to you.”
My heart drops. She can’t stand the thought of having a Christmas with her family not talking to her. “What did you do today?” I ask, looking around helplessly.
“I bought Christmas decorations.”
“Do you want to put the tree up?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
I watch her for a moment. I remember how hard this time of year used to be for me, too. “Do you want me to put the tree up naked?” I tease. “You can drink wine and watch.”
“No.” She wipes her eyes. “I just don’t want to have Christmas this year, Spence. Let’s just leave it.”
She doesn’t want to have Christmas?
We remain silent, both of us lost in our own thoughts until I can’t stand the quiet a moment longer.
“Why don’t you go home to Nottingham for Christmas, babe?”
She frowns up at me in question.
“Go home for Christmas and spend it with your family. I’ll see you after,” I offer.
“I’m not having Christmas without you.” She gasps, as if shocked by the mere suggestion of it.
“There’s no other way around it, Charlotte. They don’t want me there and I hate seeing you like this. I’d rather spend Christmas alone than see you hurt.”
“I’m staying with you, Spencer. Don’t you see?”