Sweet Dandelion

“I’m going to watch a movie,” he announces. “Do you want to join?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I have homework.”

Even though school has been canceled leading into break, I still had things that were due and I’m sure they’ll be expected the day we return.

“I was going to watch Transformers,” he sing-songs, naming one of his childhood favorites he got me hooked on one summer when he was tired of watching the Barbie movies I kept requesting.

“Really, I have things to finish.”

“Okay.” He grabs the remote, flopping onto the couch.

I take my Starbucks cinnamon dolce latte with me back to my room. Digging out my books and assignment pad, I read through what I have left to do. With a sigh, I settle onto my bed and get to work, periodically taking a sip of coffee. The condo is small enough that I hear the movie playing in the background, but I don’t feel like putting music on to drown it out.

A couple of hours later, all of my homework is complete and Sage pokes his head in the doorway. “My friends asked me out for a beer. Is it cool with you if I go?”

“I don’t care. You hardly need my permission.”

“I wanted to ask. It didn’t feel right to leave without saying something. You’ll be okay?”

“I’m fine, Herb.”

He chuckles. “Okay, okay. I’m going to head out.”

I pack my school stuff away, stuffing my backpack in the bottom of my closet since I won’t need it for two weeks.

“Bye!” Sage calls out a moment before the door closes.

Since he’s gone, I dig through the hall closet, looking for the artificial tree he used to have—I know because I’ve seen pictures of it when he’d send them to Mom.

I locate it lodged in the corner, wrestling it out into the living room. I’m glad it was there, because the only other place I could think to look would be his bedroom closet and I’m not going in there. His smelly underwear might be lying around. No thanks.

A part of me worries I should wait for Sage, that this should be something we do together. Guilt nags at me, thinking of the Christmases growing up when the three of us would decorate together while drinking hot chocolate with Christmas songs playing in the background.

My phone vibrates, breaking into my thoughts.

Sasha: They r holding a candlelight ceremony for the students & faculty who were injured yesterday. I’m going. Do u want 2?

I freeze, reading her text over and over. There’s nothing wrong with what she says, only it’s yet another reminder of everything I’m trying to move past. Ansel would know better than to ask me if I’d want to go, but not Sasha, because I haven’t shared that defining part of myself with her.

Me: No.

Sasha: K.

A simple letter ‘k’ as her only response serves to tick me off for some reason. I can’t even pinpoint what it is about it that irks me so much. I guess it’s feeling like everything bad that happened yesterday, that’s happened at other schools, places of worship, movie theaters, on and on the list goes, is somehow simplified into one insignificant letter.

I toss my phone on the couch, getting it away from me before I get mad enough to chuck it through a wall.

Sage or no Sage, I’m tackling this tree tonight.

Without hot chocolate or Christmas music to aid me, I finished the tree, decking it out with colored lights, tinsel, and the hand-me-down ornaments our mom gave him when he first moved into his own place.

A movie plays on the TV now, but I’m barely paying attention.

When the door finally opens it’s past eleven at night. It’s not too late in the grand scheme of things, but for Sage it might as well be five in the morning.

“Hey,” I call out as he locks up.

He enters the living room, smiling at the tree. “You put the tree up.” He points at it. His eyes fall to the handful of simply wrapped gifts under it of things I’ve ordered for him.