We Could Have Fallen in Love

It was Christmas Eve.

Comforting scents of nutmeg, cinnamon, and vanilla wafted through the air in the Poynter kitchen. SJ stood staring out the window, watching the sky grow steadily darker. In the back of her mind, she could hear the chatter of all the guests in the sitting room, as well as the bickering between Dougie and Jazzie over who was supposed to unload the dishwasher and, slowly but surely, the shrill whistle of the tea kettle. SJ didn’t move from her place at the window.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” SJ was snapped out of her reverie as Sam Poynter went past her, looking flustered. She strode over to the now-wailing kettle and turned off the heat, then lifted the kettle off the stove. It was hushed instantly.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Poynter,” SJ said automatically, turning away from the window. “I was, er—” She shot a last glance out the window. “Distracted,” she finished.

“It’s quite all right, dear,” Sam replied, seeming distracted herself as she poured the hot water into tea cups. “It’s a bit of a hectic Christmas this year. Will you be a dear and help take these into the sitting room?”

“Sure,” SJ said, moving forward to collect the tray.

“Thank you. Jazzie!” Sam called out.

The argument over dishwasher duties came to a halt. “Yes, Mum?” Jazzie responded.

“Help SJ bring out the tea, darling? Take the milk and sugar,” Sam instructed her, already moving on to check on the batch of cookies in the oven.

“Sure, Mum.” Jazzie stuck her tongue out at Dougie. “Guess you’re stuck putting away the dishes, Doug.” She smirked at him.

Dougie looked irritated. SJ smiled a little as she caught him muttering scattered words that sounded a lot like, “better things to do” and “fucking pain”. Jazzie picked up the sugar bowl and milk and smiled brightly at SJ before leading the way out of the kitchen.

“Let’s do this quickly,” Jazzie told SJ in an undertone. “If I get one more aunt or uncle asking me how old I am again, I might have to strangle someone.”

SJ laughed as the entered the crowded sitting room. “Hot tea coming through,” she called out a warning before depositing her tray on the coffee table. Jazzie followed suit, then they both escaped back out to the hall before they were asked any questions.

“Very smooth,” Jazzie joked. “Listen, I’m going to head upstairs, if Mum asks I’m sorting out my Christmas presents for tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.” SJ smiled at the younger girl before turning back to the kitchen. Dougie was already gone—he must have somehow weaseled his way out of finishing the dishes. Only Sam remained, humming quietly to herself as she slid freshly baked cookies off the baking sheet and onto a platter.

“Mrs. Poynter, I put out the tea, is there anything else you want me to do?” SJ offered.

“Oh no, dear. You’ve been so helpful, thank you so much. Why don’t you go have a seat and relax?” Sam suggested as she slid the final cookie onto the platter. “Or no, wait a second—” She grabbed a small plate and put several cookies on it. “Have these. I haven’t seen you eat all day, you must be hungry.”

SJ hesitated. She looked from the plate of cookies to Sam’s kind face. “Yeah, thanks,” SJ said weakly, accepting the cookies.

Sam beamed at her before hurrying out of the kitchen, taking the platter with her. Alone in the empty kitchen, SJ sat slowly at the table, putting the plate of cookies down in front of her.

She couldn’t eat. She was afraid to—well, not of eating, but rather the action that more than often followed it. She would have food later, when everyone was asleep, when she could be free to vomit in private without worrying about getting caught. It was the only way she could hide her secret.

She sat for several minutes, staring at the cookies. The chatter and laughter of everyone outside floated through the open kitchen door. Then she stood abruptly, walked over to the trashcan under the sink, and dumped the cookies in the garbage. Then she turned—and froze. There, through the doorway, was Dougie, standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring at her. Their eyes met for a second. SJ felt a kind of weird ping go through her at the sight of his crystal-clear azure blue eyes. She quickly averted her gaze. She knew he had just seen her throw away the cookies, and that made her slightly uncomfortable. But when she looked up again, he was gone. Breathing a sigh of relief, SJ hurried out of the kitchen and grabbed her coat from the closet in the hall. Making sure she had a pack of cigarettes in the pocket, she put her coat on over her dress and tights and slipped discreetly out the front door.

Outside, it was colder than SJ had anticipated. She shivered and pulled her coat tighter around her. It was snowing slightly, the flakes more gentle than SJ could have ever imagined, and the walkway was already taking on a patina of lacy white. SJ carefully made her way a respectable distance away from the house before pulling out her pack of cigarettes. She stuck the thin white cylinder in her mouth and fumbled with her lighter.

“Fucking hell,” she cursed when her half-frozen fingers wouldn’t cooperate. Her lighter dropped to the ground, and she bent down to pick it up.

“Need a hand?” a voice called from behind her.

SJ spun around. Standing there was Dougie, looking totally nonchalant in just a pair of jeans and a white tee. Inexplicably, SJ’s heartbeat sped up rapidly at the sight of him. “What are you doing?” she managed to ask over the sound of her thudding heart. Her breath escaped into the air like clouds of smoke from her yet-to-be lit cigarette.

Dougie shrugged. “My mum sent me out here to get rid of the trash.” He gestured to the black garbage back he was carrying.

“Oh.” SJ couldn’t think of anything to say as he walked down past the gate and dumped the garbage bag into the waiting trashcan. He then sauntered back to stand next to SJ. SJ’s hand was now shaking so bad she could barely hold her cigarette. Dougie gently took it out of her hand and brought out a second cigarette from his pocket. Sticking the two in his own mouth, he produced a lighter from out of nowhere and lit them both. He inhaled deeply, then pulled the second one out of his mouth and offered it to her.

“Thanks.” She exhaled a could of smoke and watched it disappear into the fine mist. Then, still staring into the air, she said, “Aren’t you cold?”

“Aren’t you?” SJ turned her head to look at him. He was wearing that half-amused, half-knowing expression that she used to know so well. “I mean, you’re wearing bloody tights.”

SJ smiled slightly. “Pain is beauty.”

“So it is,” Dougie mused, his eyes never leaving hers. “So it is.”

SJ finally had to break eye contact. She looked down as she flicked her cigarette and ash dropped to the ground. There were so many questions running through her head, so many things she didn’t know how to ask. Why was Dougie talking to her? Was this his way of saying he had forgiven her? What the fuck did this even mean? But before she could form any words, Dougie cut through her train of thought.

“I’d better go back in.” He dropped his cigarette to the ground and scuffed it out with his shoe. “Don’t stay out here too long, yeah?” He turned to make his way back to the house.

Wait, that was it? He wasn’t going to say anything else to her? Before she thought it through, she called out, “Wait—Dougie!”

He turned back around, one of his eyebrows raised slightly in a bemused expression. “Yeah?”

“I—I—” Suddenly, SJ had no idea what she was going to say. The thoughts whirling around in her head couldn’t translate into words, and SJ sighed, frustrated and confused. “Never mind.”

Dougie gave her a small, almost sad smile. “Alright, SJ.”

“God, I’m a fucking idiot,” SJ muttered to herself once Dougie had disappeared. Dougie had basically thrown her the perfect opportunity, and she hadn’t taken it. But still, he had chosen to talk to her, hadn’t he? He had broken his silent treatment. That had to mean something good, right? SJ’s hopes rose slightly. She took one last drag on her cigarette before putting it out the same way Dougie had. Then, she turned to follow him back into the house. But before she went in, a movement caught her eye. She looked up.

There was Danny, standing at the second-story window, watching her, his smile as wide and knowing as a Cheshire cat’s. SJ chuckled to herself before letting herself into the warmth of the house. Things definitely seemed to be looking better in time for Christmas tomorrow.