With all the festive people milling around us, there’s nowhere to get out of the way. This afternoon, I received a note at my brother’s boxing studio that I thought was from Ivy, asking me to meet up with her tonight.
My heart changed tempo as I read the words over and over. But when I arrived at this outrageously festive Christmas Village, and following our awkward greeting, it turned out that Gladys tricked us into meeting each other. Neither of us initiated the notes delivered today. In the space of a few hours, my hopes soared to the sky and crashed to the depths, making both of us miserable.
Moments ago, Ivy took one look at me and spun on her heels to get away from me as fast as her legs could carry her. She turned toward the entrance to the village, and suddenly, Ollie from the toy shop appeared at her side. I had no idea he could move that fast. Ollie threaded Ivy’s arm through his. I felt a sharp smack against my legs. I jumped forward, but the series of painful taps continued. Ollie herded us, tapping my legs with his cane until we passed through the gate.
“What in the world?” I mutter as I find myself trapped in a wave of people just past the entrance to the village. It seems everyone in town is here tonight, and they are all crowding to enter the attraction at once. The hand-painted sign that reads “Welcome to the North Pole” only confirms my earlier suspicions. Now, there’s only one way out, and it requires going forward through this maze of holiday cheer. The road is shut down near the pavilion, and one side of the river is paved with endless rows of booths and outdoor heaters. On the wayin, I spotted homemade ornaments and crafting tables, photo booths, and fudge stations, plus chances to win prizes, purchase gifts, and enjoy local businesses. The scene is community at its finest, with people from all around supporting each other. It’s perfectly festive and cheerful, except I’m trying to avoid people and not be caught up in an actual multitude of them. I’m especially not interested in the carolers. I’ve heard quite enough from them each night as they move throughout the town, singing songs that remind me of Mina and better days.
Ivy moves ahead, the crowd behind us pushing us through the village. I don’t have any choice but to follow her. I’m right on her heels, trying not to crowd her. She has barely managed to look at me, and this feels like my nightmare, despite the smell of cookies all around us (I’m convinced there must be some sort of air fresheners affixed to the buildings, pumping out the scent of holiday baked goods).
Emmy is with Angie tonight, learning to make gingerbread cream pie. I thought I was meeting Ivy because she wanted to see me. That alone was enough to make me more prone to endure this holiday cheer. Now, the sight of cheerful people decked out for the upcoming homemade ugly sweater contest feels like a snowball to the face.
My younger self would’ve loved this environment—an entire Christmas Village to explore—but today, the discomfort I feel is shadowing any potential for joy. The feeling is absolutely weird. I’m questioning everything, the anxiety working through my frame. I’ve been avoiding all of this . . . happiness and engaging in any festive event in Birch Borough.
Because you don’t deserve it.
Jenna’s words echo through my mind, and I shake my head to try to get the poison of them out. Suddenly, a soft voice speaks just ahead of me, her head turning slightly back over her shoulder.
“I’m uncomfortable too, okay?” Ivy’s arms are wrapped around her waist, her posture rigid and tentative.
I stride up beside her, not wanting to miss a word if she chooses to keep speaking to me. It strikes me that she can sense my thoughts, despite the time and distance that have kept us far away from each other for years.I just want a semblance of what we once had, but it doesn’t exist anymore. The man I once was—carefree and full of hope—disappeared the night Mina passed away . . .
“You’re not the same,” Ivy speaks quietly, but I hear her clearly. Of course I do. I’d recognize her smoky voice if it came from across the ocean. The buzz of this Christmas Village can’t erase my awareness of her.
Her gaze settles over me, as if appraising what else could be different about me now. I don’t like to think of what she’ll find.
“Were you with someone when we met?”
Her unexpected question shocks me. It freezes my feet to the frosty ground. A few people behind us push around me, but I don’t budge. Moving ahead, Ivy’s pace doesn’t slow. When she realizes she’s left me behind, she turns and walks back to stand before me. She’s so delicate that my frame completely protects her from the crowd.
“When we met”—her breath hitches audibly—“were you with someone? Please tell me the truth. Were you married already?”
She believes I could deceive her like that. I can understand how, from her perspective, her low opinion of me is valid. But the questions send ice running through my veins.
“No.” My teeth are clenched so tightly I think they might break. I stare down at her, feeling the heat blazing out from my eyes. “I was not married or dating anyone when we met.”
Right now, I register that Ivy is standing in the same position she stood when she kissed me that night years ago, except she’s looking at me with disdain instead of affection. Despitemy frustration, I want to wrap my arms around her, but I hold myself back. My grip isn’t strong enough when it comes to my heart. Instead, I push a hand through my hair and watch her trace the movement.
She isn’t done. “Why do you have a clock tattooed on your hand?” Her eyes focus on the antique design I had etched into my skin a few years before I met Ivy. Back then, I was newly graduated, young, and haunted by the idea of life changing suddenly. Even before Mina’s accident, our uncle had recently passed away, and the loss changed how I looked at time.
Now, my jaw clenches, but this time, I can’t stop the words from rushing out. Not with Ivy. “It’s a reminder that I won’t be here for long. None of us will be, really.” I pause, the weight of what I just said settling around us. “And it reminds me to be grateful for every moment, even when they’re hard to move through.”
“The vines are new.” It’s a statement, not a question.
I search her face, the idea that she spotted the more recently inked difference messing with my mind. “Yes, they are.”
But she’s not looking at me now, her gaze pulled away to focus on the catalyst for our current embarrassment. Ollie, now dressed as a certain famous snowman, marches up the walkways with flyers for his toy shop, complete with his cane tapping the frozen ground. A flash of guilt overtakes me. I really shouldn’t have left the shovel on the sidewalk where it had fallen. Had I known he had a bad hip, I wouldn’t have let my irritation with the world stop me from helping him.
Accidentally, Ivy’s arm bumps into mine. When she inhales sharply, I know the contact was frustratingly accidental. “The vines,” she says, her eyes lifting to mine.
I watch as her hand rises, and her fingers hover over my hand, but she doesn’t touch me. There may as well be an ocean between us, even though there’s really only a few inches. Myvoice comes out sharper than I’d like, but I’m going to tell her the truth, even if I’m not happy about having to do it. “Well, a certain woman inspired it. It’s not quite ivy, but the idea is the same. It’s wrapped around my thoughts on time.” My lungs are heavy, and I wonder if I’m going to pass out near the peppermint bark booth.
“How long?” Ivy stares at my chest instead of my face.
“How long, what?”
Her eyes are glassy as she swallows. “How long after we met did you get those vines?”
This festive environment doesn’t feel like the time to tell her about Mina, so I settle for the general timeframe. “Two months later.”
