Not my James. I mean, my father…

Ugh.

Shaking it off, I waltz back into the living room, a renewed sense of excitement flooding my limbs. I try to push it away, because it’s foolish. I would’ve been fine spending Christmas alone. I had plans, after all.

Bake enough cookies and cupcakes to fill a small village, then eat my feelings while watching Elf on repeat until I passed out from a sugar coma.

I never said it wasn’t an entirely pathetic plan.

But now I get to spend my favorite holiday with the only person who matters to me. The person who makes everything good, who I can sit next to in complete silence for hours and hours and still feel nothing but contentment and comfort.

My… dad.

A sickening nausea slinks through my gut any time I think of him that way… Because of my own internal hang-ups I’ve been trying to stuff down for years.

Let’s not do this, Jesse. Lock it the fuck up and throw away the key.

Emotions war inside me as I plop onto the couch and turn on the TV. It’s already dark outside, and the only light in the room is coming from the Christmas tree and the fluttering glow of A Charlie Brown Christmas on the flatscreen.

I watch the movie, lost in my thoughts for the duration, and I’m trying not to ruminate on it, but James has been upstairs a while.

I can’t help but wonder if maybe he wants to talk about it… About the break-up.

They were together for two years, after all. Even if I’m choosing to believe he didn’t love her, maybe he did. Maybe he’s… upset that they’re done. Not ecstatic like I am.

The next movie in the lineup, Rudolph, is playing as I hear him finally descend the stairs. I can tell by the noise he’s tinkering with the wood stove just around the corner, which is good. I’m wearing sweatpants, a hoodie, and fuzzy socks, but I’m still sort of cold. It’s frigid outside, reminding me of all the snow we’ve been getting.

Which then reminds me of the car accident that took my parents.

I don’t actually remember it. I was only two. But I definitely have vague memories of my parents’ existence, and a strong awareness of it being snuffed out.

I was in the car with them that night…

They died. I lived.

And ever since that horrific night, I’ve been an orphan. Though not really, because my godfather, their best friend, took me in. He assumed guardianship and raised me. He was only one year older than I am now when he became my adoptive father. What a strange notion that is…

I can’t even imagine raising a kid right now. I’m a selfish teenager, and I like it that way. Not that I’m self-centered in any way whatsoever, but I like that I get to focus on myself at this point in my life. Next year, I’ll graduate high school and then the world is open and full of possibilities. Though the only path my stupid heart seems to want me to follow is the one leading to him…