My makeup is done. My hair flows in long, raven tendrils down my back and over my shoulders. My sparkly black dress hugs my body in all the right places. By all standards, I’m ready for Annabelle’s Christmas party, but the churning in my belly says otherwise. This December hasn’t felt very Christmas-y since my breakup with Fin, and I am not prepared to see him tonight.
“Nikki!” Sasha calls from downstairs. “Let’s go! There’s a difference between ‘fashionably late’ and rude.”
I peek over the banister. “Coming,” I call, raising the pitch of my voice to sound cheerful, but it just sounds like a pitchy attempt at singing. My mood has been nothing but sullen and melancholy over the past seve
ral weeks. The twinkling lights draped over every surface of my apartment used to bring a smile to my face. The snowfall outside my window used to be enchanting and, despite the icy weather, bring warmth to my heart … but not this year.
I slide my feet into my ankle-high stiletto boots and bounce down the stairs like any normal twenty-two-year-old excited about a party would.
In the car, all Sasha can talk about is Fin. She double-checks and triple-checks that I am one-hundred-percent okay with seeing Fin tonight. And just like I’ve answered everyone else, “Yes, I’m fine.” Fine, has been my go-to answer the past three weeks.
How are you holding up? Fine.
Are you okay at the apartment by yourself? I’m fine.
Do you need anything? No, thank you. I’m fine.
I know my friends and family mean well, but I really just want to be left alone. This is why I decided to go to Annabelle’s party tonight
because I sincerely want to be fine.
“Are you going to talk to him?”
I see my eyes widen in the reflection of the passenger-side window and turn to meet Sasha’s curious stare. This is a new question. She shifts back and forth from me to the road, as she waits for my answer.
I shrug. It’s the best answer I can give. I’ve thought about it every day this past week in anticipation of the party, but I can never decide. I’m torn between ignoring him and hoping that he’ll talk to me, but I find it unlikely that I will be the one to spark the conversation. Why should I when he’s the one who broke up with me?
We fade into silence for the remainder of the hour drive out of the city to Annabelle’s cabin. Sasha is a good friend and doesn’t try to fill the silence with bittersweet holiday songs or the inevitable love song that plays on the radio a thousand times when you’re going through a breakup, the same songs that never play when you’re happy and in love. It’s hard enough staring out at the snow-covered scene that looks like it was painted by Thomas Kincaid himself. Vermont during winter is the pinnacle of beauty and, unfortunately, romance.
We pull up to the sturdily built, log-home, and have trouble finding a spot. Sasha complains while she loops through the U-shaped driveway and squeezes into a space that’s not really a space, blocking in two other cars. Since it’s my fault we’re late, I keep my mouth shut. I can see through the tall glass windows as we approach the cabin, and I search the faces for Fin.
My heart is racing and my stomach is doing flips. All of a sudden, I no longer know if I’m ready to see him. It’s too soon. I second guess my decision realizing that I elected to come based solely on what people would think of me if I didn’t. Then I see something that stops my heart mid-beat. Sitting on the bricked hearth among a group of our friends, laughing and carrying on, is Fin. But he’s not alone.
My stomach turns and my whole body begins to tremble.
Behind me, Sasha gasps. “Oh, hell no!” I can’t bear to turn and look at her. “Who the hell is that b—”
Before she can finish, I stomp my way through the piles of snow and shove the front door open. Annabelle has been one of my closest friends since eighth grade, so I know she won’t mind. The party turns out to be much bigger than I had expected, which makes me feel slightly more camouflaged and less like a fool. How can five years mean so little to him, I ask myself. I unapologetically plow through a mob of ugly Christmas sweaters who are hooting and hollering while a muscular Santa chugs beer straight from the tap and ends with a sickening belch. I can hear Sasha calling my name, but I don’t stop until I enter the threshold of the den. But now that I’m here, I don’t know what to say or do. My face flushes with heat when I see Adele Mason huddled next to Fin with her arm thread through his, flicking her brunette curls out of her makeup-caked face every three seconds as she titters at every joke he makes. My nails bite into the meaty part of my hand, but I ignore the pain. It’s the only way I’m keeping the tears at bay. I just glare at him, jaw set and nostrils flaring. Rage and heartache churn like a storm inside and I can’t differentiate between the two.
My friend Matt, who is sitting in a lofty armchair to Fin’s right, spots me and he tilts his head ever so slightly, and I know he’s asking me why I’m here. I had made my decision to come last night, not enough time for word to spread that I intended to come. One by one, the once raucous room begins to dim as people start to notice me until the only noise is the ancient record player in the corner of the room belting out “Jingle Bell Rock.” The last to look at me is Fin. His messy brown hair is covered with the gray-knit stocking cap I bought him in October for his birthday. He swallows roughly and I know that he wasn’t expecting me.
“Nikki,” he whispers, and I take off into the crowd, weaving through the lively throng. A chorus of “hey” and “watch out” is left in my wake, but I don’t care. They didn’t just get their heart ripped out of their chest, so they can deal with a little rudeness. Tears sting my eyes, and I can’t afford for them to be seen. A lump swells in my throat, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold back the rush of pain.
I throw open the back door and I’m hit by the frigid air. I let out a gasp that’s followed by a heave of anguish, and I can’t hold it in anymore. Multiple sobs escape before I cave in and let it go. I wrap my arms around my torso, feeling like, if I don’t, my chest will be ripped apart.
The door clicks shut behind me and I twirl around to see Fin standing there, hesitant to come any closer.
“How could you!” I scream.
“Nikki, that’s not what you think,” he explains calmly. “What are you doing here?” he asks.
I’m surprised and appalled that I can actually detect some resentment in his voice. “Oh, I’m sorry! Did you want to feel up your new girlfriend without me here?” I spit.
“That’s not—”
“You broke up with me three weeks ago!” I interject. “How dare you come to my friend’s party and flaunt your new toy—” He pushes his hat off his head and my words cut off in my throat.
The messy mop of chestnut hair that should be underneath his cap is replaced by a mere shadow of stubble. The look on his face says more than he ever could, but he still speaks.
“I’m not here with her. She just sat next to me, and eventually grabbed my arm. I didn’t stop her because… I don’t know why I didn’t. I just…” He trails off, his eyes pink and rimmed with moisture.
“Is this why you broke up with me?” I ask, my voice wavering as memories of canceled dates and doctor’s appointments filter through my recollection of the last month of our relationship. All the clues were there, I just hadn’t wanted to see it.
He sighs. “Stage-four Lymphoma.”
I nod slowly, all the signs falling into place: the weight loss, the scarcely eaten meals, unexplained fevers.
I shake my head. “No,” I whimper, though I meant it to sound fervent and commanding. I feel like the world has been ripped out from underneath me and I’m falling into a dark abyss.
I rush to him and he pulls me in. His grip has weakened over our time apart, but I can still feel his strength.
“Please don’t leave me,” I whisper, muffled by my face in his neck.
“I don’t think I have a choice in the matter,” he jokes but chokes on the last word.
I pull away and hold his face in my hands. “We are strongest together. So, fight with me, not without me.”
He stares into my eyes for a moment before touching his forehead to mine. “Deal.”