Status: one-shot. complete.
Inferno.
Inferno.
Mallory was sitting by the big bay window, staring out at the white-with-snow trees, admiring the way the white Christmas lights reflected off the ground and lit everything with a soft glow. She was really just trying to get away from the god-awful party downstairs, with all the grown-ups and their champagne and red wine and white wine, and their fancy dresses to match the fancy dining and living rooms. It was too hot, with the heat turned up to high and the multiple fire places all burning seasoned, cinnamon scented wood in their orangey inferno, and in combination with the huge amount of people packed into the two rooms, it was completely unbearable. She didn’t like the people who all knew she was, while she hadn’t a clue who they were, she didn’t like the yucky gourmet food, and she definitely didn’t like getting lost in the sea of glitter and dress shoes and high heels that the living room became. It wasn’t a place she, as an eight-and-a-half-almost-nine-year-old wanted to be, even though he mother required it every year.
The only thing she liked about her mother and father’s extravagant Christmas parties each year were the decorations. The railings and windows were draped in evergreen branches threaded with ornaments and tiny birds, which were her absolute favourite of all; there was a tree in almost every room, each with its own theme. Stair and hallway runners, as well as curtains and blankets were swapped so each was now a varying shade of burgundy or forest green, gold or silver. The entire house would smell of cinnamon from the fires and freshly baked cookies and occasionally coffee and pine. Everything was lit up, whether it was inside or out, with white lights that seemed to be continuously on. Presents wrapped in shiny decorative paper and tied with ribbons were set under the tree as soon as the trees were up, to which Mr. and Mrs. Grace explained that, “Santa came early this year, sweetie!”
But at the moment even the exquisite decorations couldn’t make up for the huge, Adult-oriented Christmas party that was going on downstairs. Mallory found it easy to slip away unnoticed from her place on a plush oversized chair, and so she scurried up the stairs and was sitting on the third-story window seat that looked out at the front yard through the plate-glass window panes.
Too entranced by the fluffy snow falling in spirals from the sky, Mallory didn’t even notice that there was someone coming up the stairs behind her. With her legs folded beneath her velvety red party dress, and her black patent shoes sitting on the bench beside he, she hummed the last song she had heard downstairs to herself, no longer minding anything but the smell of wood smoke mixed with cinnamon that had drifted up the stairs. She felt almost bad for leaving, because her mother’s friend’s son was sitting there with her, but run off, promising to steal her a dessert of the table when he returned. Mallory knew she should’ve waited and told him she was leaving, and maybe even invited him, too, but all she wanted was out of that room and the party, and it wasn’t like she cared about that silly little boy, anyways.
“Mallory?”
She turned to the voice, despite the fact that he said her name as “mowwy”, to see the boy from downstairs.
“Yeah, Caleb?”
“I brought you this,” he answered, holding out a few chocolate chip cookies in his hand. “I couldn’t find you downstairs, so I came exploring.”
Mallory offered him a smile in return and asked him to sit down beside her on the window seat. She bit into a cookie to find it was still warm; the chocolate chips melty and delicious. With her mouth full of warm cookie, she held the rest out to Caleb, and asked if he’d like one, realizing her mother wouldn’t approve of the fact she was talking with her mouth full.
Caleb obviously didn’t mind, though, because he shrugged and took one for himself, biting into it and staring out the window just like Mallory. Once the cookies were gone, Mallory and Caleb were still looking out the window, watching as the snow piled up on the grand walkway below.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Mallory asked, looking away from the window and at Caleb instead.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he said, scooting closer to Mallory. “But I think you’re prettier.”
Completely unexpected by Mallory he then leaned in and kissed her cheek, doing what, from an eight year old boy’s view, was as romantic as he could get.
Mallory, in response, wrinkled her delicate little nose and pushed him back, wiping the slobber filled with boy-cooties off her cheek as she hurried downstairs and away from the window seat, where Caleb sat confused and upset.
Nine years to the day, Mallory was in the kitchen of her house, with the woman her mother hired to cook for them, Dalia. Dalia had arrived early that morning, before the rest of the house was awake, to start making the meal and desserts for Mallory’s mother’s Christmas party, which would have to feed around 200 people. Despite the fact that Dalia was getting paid for the event, plus a Christmas bonus, and her weekly paycheck, Mallory couldn’t help but feel sorry for the fact that Dalia did it all on her own and was in the kitchen all day, and barely got a thank you, so she did her best to help when her mother was too busy to notice where she’d gone.
“What can I do, Dal?”
“Ah…nothing right now,” She continued kneading the bread dough to make her famous braided loaves with, then changed her mind. “Ah! Actually, you can run to the store for me, yeah? I need, ah…more flour. Cake flour, for the desserts?”
“Sure, how much?”
“Oh, Caleb will drive you to the supply store. Grocery won’t, ah, have ze right size bags.”
Mallory paled at the mention of Caleb’s name. After a series of awkward encounters when they were younger, all of which took place after that one Christmas party, they’d done their best to not be in the others’ company. Not only was Caleb the son of Mallory’s cook and housekeeper, but it was obvious that, just like his eight year old self, he liked Mallory, and on top of all that he was actually pretty cute.
“Oh. Oh. Okay.”
She grabbed her purse off the counter top by the door, grabbing a few bills and stuffing them in the back pocket of her jeans, and walked out the back door. The walk was covered in a few inches of fresh snow that was still coming down from the sky. Being careful not to slip, she made her way to the grey sedan already parked in the driveway and walked around the front of the car to the passenger side. The boy inside leaned across the center console and pulled the handle, popping open the door for Mallory. She whispered a soft thank you as she slid in, pulling the door shut behind her.
They rode to the small grocery-supply store in silence for the first few minutes, neither knowing what to say. The heat was up full blast, which Mallory did not see as necessary, so she began untangling her scarf from around her neck and folding it in her lap. Caleb glanced at her for a moment, brushed his dark hair back and set his eyes back on the road, biting his lip. Mallory got out of the car before it was even fully stopped in the parking lot, eager to get away from the tension-filled air in the car. The store was small, the flour easy to find. She hauled the biggest bag they had to the counter, where it was rung up by an old Italian man, who wished her a happy holiday and sent her on her way.
Caleb was waiting for her to return, with the back seat door already open. He reached his arms out to take the bag from her, though she insisted it was okay and not too heavy. They argued for a minute, each tugging on the bag gently. When the weight was split between them, someone let go, sending the bag to the ground. Upon impact it burst, sending white dust up, which promptly covered both of them. Mallory looked down at her jeans and sweater and the ends of her hair, and then at Caleb, who was head-to-toe white, and burst out laughing. Caleb wiped his eyes and followed suit, offering to go buy another bag and get something so Mallory could clean up.
“No, no, it’s fine. I'll just brush off; your car might get a little floury, though,” she laughed again, more friendly towards the boy as they picked the bag up in an effort to preserve as much as possible.
“Are you sure? I can’t imagine your mom is going to be too happy with…” he gestured to himself and Mallory, covered in flour, “...this.”
“It’s okay, she’ll be too wrapped up in making everything perfect for tonight; I can sneak upstairs with no problem.”
Caleb shrugged, as if to say, “It’s your funeral,” and climbed into the car to drive back to Mallory’s.
*****
Six hours later, Mallory was tugging a red dress over her black tights and slipping her feet into shiny patent leather heels. Her mother was, undoubtedly, pacing around downstairs, waiting both for Mallory to get down there and for guests to start arriving. The house was already filled with the scent of cinnamon and seasoned wood smoke, a scent that, even after seventeen years, she still couldn’t find pleasant. She walked down the first few stairs slowly, then when she was sure her mother wasn’t around, slid down the banister to the second floor landing, from where she hobbled down the stairs trying not to fall on her face.
Mrs. Grace was standing at the bottom of the stairs, clutching a marbled red wine glass, staring into one of the fires burning in the other room. She was lost in the inferno, seemingly, as she downed the rest of the glass in one gulp.
“Mom?”
“Oh, Mallory, honey! Okay, so everyone should be here,” she glanced at the bracelet-slash-watch on her wrist to check the time, “soon. You’re going to greet everyone, and mingle a bit while they’re here okay? Please, try not to say anything that will offend anyone this year. You can even have some wine, if you’d like, just please, please try not to break anything or act stupidly, okay?”
Mallory nodded, and rolled her eyes as soon as her mother turned to open the door. People all streamed in at once, hugging and kissing first Mrs. Grace and then Mallory before moving on to the finely decorated rooms set aside for the event. After Mrs. Grace had decided the majority of the people had arrived, she ushered Mallory into the room of people, all of which were holding an alcoholic beverage and many of who were already well on their way to being drunk. As the night progressed, Mallory grew tired of her shoes pinching her feet, tired of drunk men and women exclaiming how much she’d grown as they sloshed their drinks on her and tired of the awful smell that filled the air because of the multiple fires.
Everyone was so far gone that Mallory knew she wouldn’t be missed, so she slipped out of the room and up the stairs, taking her shoes off and her elaborate hairstyle down as she went. By the time she reached her room her dress was half off and her tights had been discarded somewhere on the stairs behind her. In a matter of minutes, Mallory was in a pair of too-big sweatpants and an oversized tee shirt, with her hair tied back in a sloppy ponytail and her fluffy penguin slippers on her feet. Following the tradition that she did every year, she crept silently to the big bay window in the front of the house and sat on the window bench, tucking her feet up underneath her. She stared out at the yard, covered in a blanket of fluffy white snow and white Christmas light, for what seemed like hours, breathing in the small amount of fresh air that seeped in between the windowpanes.
Just as had happened nine years earlier, on the exact same day, a boy crept up the stairs behind her, though while she wanted to escape the unbearable heat of the party, he wanted to escape the freezing outside temperatures. Once again he had warm chocolate cookies wrapped in a napkin, though this time he had two glasses of milk in the other hand, too.
Biting his lip, he smiled as if he was unsure of himself. “H-hey. Do…do you mind if I join you?”
Mallory smiled back and shook her head, patting the seat across from her and moving a pillow to her lap. They ate the cookies in silence, gulping down the milk afterwards, and then Caleb reached into his pocket, as Mallory watched with confusion. He brought out a tiny box wrapped in silver paper, topped with a gold bow.
He handed it over without words, setting it in front of Mallory and looking down at the ground, completely nervous. Mallory’s eyes darted between him and the box a few times before she picked it up and slid her finger under the tape on the bottom, pulling the paper off in one shot. Inside the paper was a small, white box, which she pulled the lid off of, not sure what to expect inside. Taking a deep breath, she looked up to see him watching her, holding his breath in anticipation. She offered no smile or emotion as she looked down, only to find a gorgeous silver necklace. It was antiqued, with a simple bird made of sterling silver stamped with some lace pattern, which was perched on the bottom of a sterling silver raindrop. A tiny pearl hung off the top of the raindrop; the perfect accent for such a beautiful piece of jewelry.
“I…I love it. It’s gorgeous,” She said softly, looking up from it finally. She leaned over, closer to the boy, now biting her lip. “I don’t really have a present for you,” she said, “Unless…well, this.”
She leaned over and bridged the small gap between them, pressing her lips to his and wrapping her arms around his neck. It felt so perfect to her, so absolutely right, that she never wanted to let go. Her heart was an inferno of warmth, and she was happy, oh so happy, on Christmas for the first time she could ever remember.
“Merry Christmas, Caleb,” she whispered when she pulled away, smiling so that the dim lights reflected off her teeth.
“Merry Christmas, Mallory.”
And they sat there, curled up on the bench, together , away from the glamour and glitz and the adults and the alcohol of the party downstairs, just wrapped in each other’s arms, and they were warm, and comfortable, and above all, happy that, after nine years, things were finally perfect.
The only thing she liked about her mother and father’s extravagant Christmas parties each year were the decorations. The railings and windows were draped in evergreen branches threaded with ornaments and tiny birds, which were her absolute favourite of all; there was a tree in almost every room, each with its own theme. Stair and hallway runners, as well as curtains and blankets were swapped so each was now a varying shade of burgundy or forest green, gold or silver. The entire house would smell of cinnamon from the fires and freshly baked cookies and occasionally coffee and pine. Everything was lit up, whether it was inside or out, with white lights that seemed to be continuously on. Presents wrapped in shiny decorative paper and tied with ribbons were set under the tree as soon as the trees were up, to which Mr. and Mrs. Grace explained that, “Santa came early this year, sweetie!”
But at the moment even the exquisite decorations couldn’t make up for the huge, Adult-oriented Christmas party that was going on downstairs. Mallory found it easy to slip away unnoticed from her place on a plush oversized chair, and so she scurried up the stairs and was sitting on the third-story window seat that looked out at the front yard through the plate-glass window panes.
Too entranced by the fluffy snow falling in spirals from the sky, Mallory didn’t even notice that there was someone coming up the stairs behind her. With her legs folded beneath her velvety red party dress, and her black patent shoes sitting on the bench beside he, she hummed the last song she had heard downstairs to herself, no longer minding anything but the smell of wood smoke mixed with cinnamon that had drifted up the stairs. She felt almost bad for leaving, because her mother’s friend’s son was sitting there with her, but run off, promising to steal her a dessert of the table when he returned. Mallory knew she should’ve waited and told him she was leaving, and maybe even invited him, too, but all she wanted was out of that room and the party, and it wasn’t like she cared about that silly little boy, anyways.
“Mallory?”
She turned to the voice, despite the fact that he said her name as “mowwy”, to see the boy from downstairs.
“Yeah, Caleb?”
“I brought you this,” he answered, holding out a few chocolate chip cookies in his hand. “I couldn’t find you downstairs, so I came exploring.”
Mallory offered him a smile in return and asked him to sit down beside her on the window seat. She bit into a cookie to find it was still warm; the chocolate chips melty and delicious. With her mouth full of warm cookie, she held the rest out to Caleb, and asked if he’d like one, realizing her mother wouldn’t approve of the fact she was talking with her mouth full.
Caleb obviously didn’t mind, though, because he shrugged and took one for himself, biting into it and staring out the window just like Mallory. Once the cookies were gone, Mallory and Caleb were still looking out the window, watching as the snow piled up on the grand walkway below.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Mallory asked, looking away from the window and at Caleb instead.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he said, scooting closer to Mallory. “But I think you’re prettier.”
Completely unexpected by Mallory he then leaned in and kissed her cheek, doing what, from an eight year old boy’s view, was as romantic as he could get.
Mallory, in response, wrinkled her delicate little nose and pushed him back, wiping the slobber filled with boy-cooties off her cheek as she hurried downstairs and away from the window seat, where Caleb sat confused and upset.
Nine years to the day, Mallory was in the kitchen of her house, with the woman her mother hired to cook for them, Dalia. Dalia had arrived early that morning, before the rest of the house was awake, to start making the meal and desserts for Mallory’s mother’s Christmas party, which would have to feed around 200 people. Despite the fact that Dalia was getting paid for the event, plus a Christmas bonus, and her weekly paycheck, Mallory couldn’t help but feel sorry for the fact that Dalia did it all on her own and was in the kitchen all day, and barely got a thank you, so she did her best to help when her mother was too busy to notice where she’d gone.
“What can I do, Dal?”
“Ah…nothing right now,” She continued kneading the bread dough to make her famous braided loaves with, then changed her mind. “Ah! Actually, you can run to the store for me, yeah? I need, ah…more flour. Cake flour, for the desserts?”
“Sure, how much?”
“Oh, Caleb will drive you to the supply store. Grocery won’t, ah, have ze right size bags.”
Mallory paled at the mention of Caleb’s name. After a series of awkward encounters when they were younger, all of which took place after that one Christmas party, they’d done their best to not be in the others’ company. Not only was Caleb the son of Mallory’s cook and housekeeper, but it was obvious that, just like his eight year old self, he liked Mallory, and on top of all that he was actually pretty cute.
“Oh. Oh. Okay.”
She grabbed her purse off the counter top by the door, grabbing a few bills and stuffing them in the back pocket of her jeans, and walked out the back door. The walk was covered in a few inches of fresh snow that was still coming down from the sky. Being careful not to slip, she made her way to the grey sedan already parked in the driveway and walked around the front of the car to the passenger side. The boy inside leaned across the center console and pulled the handle, popping open the door for Mallory. She whispered a soft thank you as she slid in, pulling the door shut behind her.
They rode to the small grocery-supply store in silence for the first few minutes, neither knowing what to say. The heat was up full blast, which Mallory did not see as necessary, so she began untangling her scarf from around her neck and folding it in her lap. Caleb glanced at her for a moment, brushed his dark hair back and set his eyes back on the road, biting his lip. Mallory got out of the car before it was even fully stopped in the parking lot, eager to get away from the tension-filled air in the car. The store was small, the flour easy to find. She hauled the biggest bag they had to the counter, where it was rung up by an old Italian man, who wished her a happy holiday and sent her on her way.
Caleb was waiting for her to return, with the back seat door already open. He reached his arms out to take the bag from her, though she insisted it was okay and not too heavy. They argued for a minute, each tugging on the bag gently. When the weight was split between them, someone let go, sending the bag to the ground. Upon impact it burst, sending white dust up, which promptly covered both of them. Mallory looked down at her jeans and sweater and the ends of her hair, and then at Caleb, who was head-to-toe white, and burst out laughing. Caleb wiped his eyes and followed suit, offering to go buy another bag and get something so Mallory could clean up.
“No, no, it’s fine. I'll just brush off; your car might get a little floury, though,” she laughed again, more friendly towards the boy as they picked the bag up in an effort to preserve as much as possible.
“Are you sure? I can’t imagine your mom is going to be too happy with…” he gestured to himself and Mallory, covered in flour, “...this.”
“It’s okay, she’ll be too wrapped up in making everything perfect for tonight; I can sneak upstairs with no problem.”
Caleb shrugged, as if to say, “It’s your funeral,” and climbed into the car to drive back to Mallory’s.
*****
Six hours later, Mallory was tugging a red dress over her black tights and slipping her feet into shiny patent leather heels. Her mother was, undoubtedly, pacing around downstairs, waiting both for Mallory to get down there and for guests to start arriving. The house was already filled with the scent of cinnamon and seasoned wood smoke, a scent that, even after seventeen years, she still couldn’t find pleasant. She walked down the first few stairs slowly, then when she was sure her mother wasn’t around, slid down the banister to the second floor landing, from where she hobbled down the stairs trying not to fall on her face.
Mrs. Grace was standing at the bottom of the stairs, clutching a marbled red wine glass, staring into one of the fires burning in the other room. She was lost in the inferno, seemingly, as she downed the rest of the glass in one gulp.
“Mom?”
“Oh, Mallory, honey! Okay, so everyone should be here,” she glanced at the bracelet-slash-watch on her wrist to check the time, “soon. You’re going to greet everyone, and mingle a bit while they’re here okay? Please, try not to say anything that will offend anyone this year. You can even have some wine, if you’d like, just please, please try not to break anything or act stupidly, okay?”
Mallory nodded, and rolled her eyes as soon as her mother turned to open the door. People all streamed in at once, hugging and kissing first Mrs. Grace and then Mallory before moving on to the finely decorated rooms set aside for the event. After Mrs. Grace had decided the majority of the people had arrived, she ushered Mallory into the room of people, all of which were holding an alcoholic beverage and many of who were already well on their way to being drunk. As the night progressed, Mallory grew tired of her shoes pinching her feet, tired of drunk men and women exclaiming how much she’d grown as they sloshed their drinks on her and tired of the awful smell that filled the air because of the multiple fires.
Everyone was so far gone that Mallory knew she wouldn’t be missed, so she slipped out of the room and up the stairs, taking her shoes off and her elaborate hairstyle down as she went. By the time she reached her room her dress was half off and her tights had been discarded somewhere on the stairs behind her. In a matter of minutes, Mallory was in a pair of too-big sweatpants and an oversized tee shirt, with her hair tied back in a sloppy ponytail and her fluffy penguin slippers on her feet. Following the tradition that she did every year, she crept silently to the big bay window in the front of the house and sat on the window bench, tucking her feet up underneath her. She stared out at the yard, covered in a blanket of fluffy white snow and white Christmas light, for what seemed like hours, breathing in the small amount of fresh air that seeped in between the windowpanes.
Just as had happened nine years earlier, on the exact same day, a boy crept up the stairs behind her, though while she wanted to escape the unbearable heat of the party, he wanted to escape the freezing outside temperatures. Once again he had warm chocolate cookies wrapped in a napkin, though this time he had two glasses of milk in the other hand, too.
Biting his lip, he smiled as if he was unsure of himself. “H-hey. Do…do you mind if I join you?”
Mallory smiled back and shook her head, patting the seat across from her and moving a pillow to her lap. They ate the cookies in silence, gulping down the milk afterwards, and then Caleb reached into his pocket, as Mallory watched with confusion. He brought out a tiny box wrapped in silver paper, topped with a gold bow.
He handed it over without words, setting it in front of Mallory and looking down at the ground, completely nervous. Mallory’s eyes darted between him and the box a few times before she picked it up and slid her finger under the tape on the bottom, pulling the paper off in one shot. Inside the paper was a small, white box, which she pulled the lid off of, not sure what to expect inside. Taking a deep breath, she looked up to see him watching her, holding his breath in anticipation. She offered no smile or emotion as she looked down, only to find a gorgeous silver necklace. It was antiqued, with a simple bird made of sterling silver stamped with some lace pattern, which was perched on the bottom of a sterling silver raindrop. A tiny pearl hung off the top of the raindrop; the perfect accent for such a beautiful piece of jewelry.
“I…I love it. It’s gorgeous,” She said softly, looking up from it finally. She leaned over, closer to the boy, now biting her lip. “I don’t really have a present for you,” she said, “Unless…well, this.”
She leaned over and bridged the small gap between them, pressing her lips to his and wrapping her arms around his neck. It felt so perfect to her, so absolutely right, that she never wanted to let go. Her heart was an inferno of warmth, and she was happy, oh so happy, on Christmas for the first time she could ever remember.
“Merry Christmas, Caleb,” she whispered when she pulled away, smiling so that the dim lights reflected off her teeth.
“Merry Christmas, Mallory.”
And they sat there, curled up on the bench, together , away from the glamour and glitz and the adults and the alcohol of the party downstairs, just wrapped in each other’s arms, and they were warm, and comfortable, and above all, happy that, after nine years, things were finally perfect.