A Lot Like Christmas: Chapter Two

Everywhere You Go

When Aspen knocks on the door about half an hour later, Genevieve springs to her feet, nearly knocking over the coffee table, with all its newly-decorated cookies. Noelle jumps up after her, and they both run to the door. I stay by the cookies, clutching the edge of the jittery coffee table. It can't fall over.

Genevieve appears at the door of the living room, her green eyes bright with excitement. "Molly, are you coming?" Aspen knocks on the door again, and the sound bounces around my head, along with her question.

Knock. Molly, are you coming? Knock. Molly, are you coming? Knock. Molly, are you coming? Kno---

"Yes. Yeah, I'm coming." I edge past the coffee table and move to Genevieve. She takes my small hand in her long-fingered one, and we go to the door. Noelle turns the bolt, and it swings open suddenly.

"I come in search of a Molly Hope Morissey and a Genevieve Iris Branagan!" Aspen sweeps through the doorway, flinging his hands into the air, flamboyantly. "And, here! I see them! The fair damsels!"

We laugh--we can't help but laugh. It's Aspen, after all.

"Hey, what about me?" Noelle asks, putting a hand to her heart in a gesture of mock offense.

Aspen gasps exaggeratedly. "What do I see here? A crone! An old, warty hag with one eye and a club foot. Tell me, witch, what do you call yourself!"

"I call myself your doom!" cackles Noelle, grabbing Aspen by the neck and shaking him a bit. Aspen and Noelle are both fifteen, and they were in the same grade at school when Aspen still lived in Lazarus. He was always more my friend than Noelle's, though, even though they were closer to the same age. I think that Noelle had a bit of a crush on Aspen when they were younger. She thought that he was a wonderful guy, but as we all grew up, it became apparent that Aspen wasn't really the person for her. I still think that she's a little into him, though, which is kind of weird because, after all, he's my best friend.

"Take it easy, you two!" Mom yells from the living room.

"Move, peasants!" commands Aspen, shooing Noelle, Genevieve and me out of the way before striding past us. "I must address the queen!" We follow him into the living room, where he kneels before Mom, head bowed. "My liege, Queen Savannah of Lazarus!"

"Oh, Aspen," Mom clucks, blushing. "Get over here and give me a hug."

Aspen smiles, crosses to her, and kisses her on the cheek. "Hi, Mrs. Morissey."

"Aspen," she sighs, contentedly, pulling him onto the couch next to her. "It's Savannah, remember? Mrs. Morissey was my mother."

Aspen gives us a smug smile. "Savannah likes me the most."

"No, I don't!" exclaims Mom, pushing Aspen's shoulder. "I like Zeke the most."

"Hey!" Aspen protests, sitting up.

Noelle strides over to him and pulls him back onto the couch, her arm around his waist. "Don't worry, Aspen---you're still my favorite."

"Thanks, Noe," Aspen says, letting out a sigh of mock relief.

"What about Genevieve!" I exclaim, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Genevieve laughs and sits down, cross-legged, by the Christmas tree. "It's fine, Molly. I know I'm your dad's favorite. Savannah, where is James, by the way?"

"Oh, out running errands. Being a parent, and all that."

A silence falls, and I look at Aspen, who's usually the one to break it. His face has changed since I last saw him---he has less baby fat on his cheeks, and although I'm sure I'm imagining it, his eyes look even grayer. It's funny how you notice these things when you're apart for so long. Fascinated, I turn to Genevieve. Sure enough, she looks different as well. She's always been thin, but she looks bonier all of a sudden, and, at the same time, less girlish. Her cheekbones are more pronounced, and she holds herself with a grace that I hadn't seen in her when she still lived in Lazarus.

"Molly, stop staring at me," she suddenly laughs, hitting me playfully on the shoulder. "You're freaking me out."

Her laugh hasn't changed--that's nice. We sit in silence for another few moments, which is unusual for Genevieve and Aspen. I think it's the room, with the rickety sound of the heater lulling us into a sense of contentment. However, this doesn't last for long, and I'm glad because it feels extremely unnatural, just sitting there without talking next to Genevieve and Aspen. There is a knock on the door, and I bolt to the hall. Genevieve and Aspen are both chanting "ZEKE! ZEKE! ZEKE! ZEKE!" at the tops of their lungs as I open the door.

There he is--and, boy, does Zeke look different. For some reason, everything seems quiet as he steps into the hall… until, suddenly, Aspen lets out a whoop, pushes past me, and tackles Zeke, who laughs and tousles Aspen's free-for-all blonde waves. We tramp into the living room, where Mom is still sitting on the couch.

"Zeke!" she exclaims. "My favorite!"

When Aspen makes a pout-y face, Noelle laughs so hard she nearly falls off the sofa. Zeke runs over to Mom, and flops down next to her.

"I missed you, Savannah," he says, laying his head on her shoulder. "A lot."

Mom laughs. "You mean you missed my cookies!"

She swats away Aspen and Genevieve's hands as they reach for the freshly-decorated ginger snaps. Zeke looks like he's going to reply, but before he can, the front door opens again.

"Hey, I'm home!" Dad's voice rings through the house, and everyone's heads snap to the hall.

"James!" Genevieve exclaims, running to the door. Aspen, Zeke, Noelle and I follow her, and find her wrapping Dad in a hug so tight he can barely breath.

"Who's this?!" he says in false surprise. When his eyes land on Aspen and Zeke, he makes his face twist into a mask of over-exaggerated suspicion. "Ah-HA! Those two rascally neighbor boys!"

At the mention of "boys," I swear I can see Zeke start glowing.

Dad holds open his arms. "Come here, all of you---I may not be the father of anyone but Molly and Noelle, but I can darn well pretend to be for the next two weeks!" We all pile into him. I have one arm around Genevieve, and my face buried in Dad's chest. Aspen and Zeke are behind me, pressing me into Dad as they hug him, too, and I think Noelle's hand is on the back of my head. It's only later that I'll realize it, but in that moment there were no pounding thoughts, no fluttering nerves, no ache of anticipation. That moment put an end to all the anxiety surrounding my three friends coming back, and, if only for a moment, I think I was fine; it was them, and me, and my parents, and I don't think I would've traded it for anything. Although I'm burdened with an extremely debilitating anxiety disorder, it somehow makes times like this feel almost more lovely because they come in contrast to the stress of everything else.

Thinking about this, I stand there, feeling Aspen's hair tickle the side of my face. I am completely and totally comfortable right now, and it's going to be like this for a whole two weeks--then, of course, one thought sneaks in: how much worse will it be when they leave?