Breaking Traditions

I sat with my legs tucked under me at the end of the couch. The fire in the fireplace was cracking and warming up my toes. I took a sip of my hot chocolate then licked my top lip to rid it of a possible ‘mellow moustache.

I carefully set my mug down on the arm of the couch next to me and buried my nose in my book once again.

With only spicy cinnamon candles burning in the living room to accompany the fire, the white snow falling outside the window and the blanket around me at four in the morning, it really felt like Christmas.

That was how every Christmas was and that’s how I like it. Growing up, I had never liked the big get together with families. Grandparents pulling at my cheek at telling me how tall I was, even though I knew. They also let me know when I cut my hair and got my braces off, like I hadn’t noticed. They invaded my life, asking about my boyfriends, friends, sports and school. Then there was the big feast and the opening of presents. Everyone “oo-ed and ah-ed” at the ridiculous decorations that bombarded yards and roof tops.

Not that that wasn’t wonderful, awesome and delightful, but the lifestyle wasn’t for me. I was more of an introvert and enjoyed one-on-one conversations and slow moving dealings.

I liked being to myself. I didn’t need the Mormon get-togethers or the millions of hugs and kisses.

As soon as I turned eighteen I moved out of the house and traveled east. East to Detroit. The past five Christmas’s I went to a nice church service on Christmas Eve and then voyaged back home and read the new book my mom sent me every year until late Christmas morning.

So by four in the morning I was a little over half done with the chunky book, but my hot chocolate ran out. I was poignant from the realization that there was no more hot chocolate in my cupboards.

“Dang,” I muttered to myself, trotting over to my doorway to slip on some boots and a jacket over my baggy sweatpants and warm red sweater. “Come on Pete!” I yelled to the lazy basset hound that was slobbering on my couch. His floppy ears perked up and he pranced to the door with his ears bouncing up and down as he sauntered. I hooked the leash on his collar and he led me out the door and down the sidewalk.

I walked into the small convenient store that was conveniently always open and greeted the elderly couple that worked there. I knew exactly where my entrée was located and moments later I was at the front counter and plopping my giant can of Hot Chocolate powder on the glass along with a five dollar bill.

“Merry Christmas, Lizzi,” Mrs. Collins said genuinely, smiling through her wrinkly skin and old teeth as she pushed the can and the bill back towards me.

“Honestly, Marylyn. Why won’t you take my money?” I asked, getting annoyed. She just smiled and threw a dog biscuit down to Pete, who was slobbering on her clean floors.

Mr. Collins came out from the office. “Well good morning, Elizabeth. Already breaking tradition?” he asked me skeptically and surprised to see me out on Christmas Day.

“Only to continue on, Lawrence.” I winked and quickly slid the money back towards Marylyn. “Merry Christmas!” I yelled and darted out the door, leaving them smiling and shaking their heads.

Back home, I had my mug of delicious and binding of wonder, with my best companion by my side. At nine in the morning, my eyes were starting to droop, but I had to finish the book. 90 more pages.

The phone rang and exhaled in opposition. “Yeah?” I answered rather shortly.

“Merry Christmas, sweet heart,” I could hear my dad’s smile through the receiver.

“Hey, Dad!”

“How my girl doing?”

“Well. I actually just woke up, so can I call you back later?”

“Sure thing, I--” I heard shuffling in the background and groaned when I heard my mother’s voice.

“Elizabeth?!”

I held back the annoyance in my voice and put on a fake smile, “Hi Mom.”

“Oh, how are you?! How is your Christmas so far?”

“Well actually I--”

“When are you coming down to visit us again? You know, my only daughter left me and it just isn’t the same...” Here it goes again. She sends me on the same blabbering guilt trip every year, but it didn’t bother me. I didn’t blame myself for wanting to leave a house with four other bothers, which are older than me might I add, where none of them had ever heard of the word “birth control” or “condoms”. I tucked the phone on my shoulder and picked up my book again and started reading, adding a “yeah” and “mhmm” when necessary.

“You know what, mom? Someone is at the door.” I cut in after ten minutes of her bantering. “I’m going to have to call you back.”

“Ok, Liz. Just make sure--” I smacked the “end” button on the phone and threw it across the room. My mother was insane.

I took the time to get up and blow out the candles and start putting out the fire since I wouldn’t be getting back into my book anytime soon, and because the snow had stopped, the sun was shinning and the reflection from the fresh fallen snow was blinding my eyes.

Pete was still asleep from the early morning activities, so I took the time to put on some jeans and comb through my hair. I made myself an omelet, put some food in Pete’s bowl and tidied around the house while I waited for Pete to be done eating.

“Are you ready Petey?! Huh?! You ready?!” I scratched under his giant ears and his tail wagged violently and we both ran to the door. I pulled on my boots, mittens, hat and scarf and followed Pete out the door and into the yard. The snow was just under my knees and I scooped a handful and formed it into a snowball. I launched it at Pete and he took off running, having a hard time staying above the fresh, sticky snow with his stubby legs.

An hour later, we, mostly me, had completed our masterpiece. Well, to us it was a work of art. Our snowman had four balls to him. The big, bottom one was a little deformed since Pete took a chunk out his right side, but other than that, he was pretty proportional, so I sat Pete next to him and set the timer on my digital camera and ran over next to the snowman and Pete and smiled just in time for the snap.

My morning was not going as planned. Now with my computer broken, I couldn’t upload the picture. I hated breaking tradition and that is what seemed to be happening to me all morning. First my hot chocolate runs out so I have to go out on Christmas day to fetch some more, then my mother interrupted me and my book so I couldn’t finish, and my digital camera fell in the snow and on top of it all, my computer wouldn’t turn on.

I started to yell at my computer, “Come on you stupid piece of crap!” I ran my fingers crazily over the keyboard. “Work! Turn on! Work!!”

Pete started barking his deep howls in compensation with me. “Uhh! Are you kidding me?!” I banged on my monitor, hit every switch I thought would help, but soon enough I gave up. I laid my head down on the keyboard in defeat. As soon as I did, I heard a ding. I lifted my head up and looked around.

“Yes!” My monitor was warming up. “I did it Peter!” He barked when he heard his name and tried to hop up onto my lap, but failed because of his long back and stumpy legs.

I giggled as Pete fell on his back and then leaned down to pick him up and set him on my lap. Since I was so independent, I was used to being alone with no one to talk to, but even I got bored so I usually ended up having one sided conversations with my dog, which Pete didn’t seem to mind.

“Well Pete, I got the computer running, now let’s see if all our pictures will load by next Christmas, shall we?” I wasn’t the best at technology, but I knew how to work my computer pretty well and as I did I hummed Queen’s “I Want To Break Free” which is pretty ironic if I do say so myself.

After getting the pictures uploaded from my camera and sorted into the correct folders, I pulled up AIM and logged on; hoping that the person I usually to talk to was online as well.

SnowCones4Lizzi: Ciao B :)

It took him a couple minutes for him respond, but finally he did.

Bden69: hey liz :)

I could almost hear his soothing voice ringing in my ears as I read his reply.

SnowCones4Lizzi: How is your Christmas on tour?

Bden69: its pretty swell :P we are in portland right now and its snowing like a bitch! haha.

SnowCones4Lizzi: haha :) how are the guys?

Bden69: i think they are good. idk. i’m taking a little side trip right now ;) and i also have no idea where i am! haha. hby?

SnowCones4Lizzi: I’m great! Still out in empty town with Pete, livin’ the life. lol.

Bden69: Wow. that sounds soo amazing lizzi! speaking of pete… you have the picture? :)

SnowCones4Lizzi: Well duh!

Bden69: lol! k i’ll send mine and you send yours.

I quickly opened my email account and attached my photo that I had taken earlier of me and Pete outside by our snowman and sent it to Brendon. Brendon and I had been best friends for as long as I can remember. And I’m not just saying that. Even my earliest memories of myself had Brendon in them. We grew up down the street from each other and somehow we formed an odd connection because even through our pre-teen years we stayed close, when most boy-girl friendships dwindled. Through high school we continued to be inseparable; making it past the drama, relationship, and abnormal and awkward phases of growing up. It was unavoidable that we went separate ways after high school (even though we were best friends, our personalities were much different). Brendon went and pursued his music career and I moved and started college.

We’ve both had major bumps in the road; Brendon had some bad relationships and hard breakups, the loss of three band mates over time following a creation of a new Panic! accompanied by rumors that filled his life where as I had pity problems compared to him- stupid boys and a very significant lack of funds to keep me in college. But even through that, our distance hadn’t stopped us from keeping in contact and helping each other through things. Though our communication slowed up when Brendon went on tour, there was one thing we never forgot; Christmas Day Snowmen.

I didn’t know how many times I had clicked the refresh button to see if I had gotten a message from Brendon, but finally it came and I quickly opened it and laughed at the sight. Brendon was in a park that he had found and built himself a humongous snow man, much taller than him, and since he didn’t have his dog with him, he had dressed Spencer up by painting whiskers and a nose on his face and having him stand on all fours in the picture. In front of the massive creation was an outline of a heart in the snow that he fashioned with stick and twigs as he sat in the middle if it with his legs crossed Indian style with his chin propped up in his hands, making an incredibly cheesy smile that only Brendon could pull off.

SnowCones4Lizzi: Haha! I love it, Bren!

Bden69: aw, pete is getting so big! and you are looking amazing! i miss you guys :(

SnowCones4Lizzi: We miss you too, b <3

I smiled sadly. I hadn’t seen Brendon, my best friend, in over six months. He had been so busy with writing his third album and creating a new sound and promoting it and then going on tour that I wouldn’t let him come and visit me, even though I was dying to actually talk to him face to face.

I printed out the picture he sent along with the one I had taken with Pete earlier this morning and got out my picture album.

On the cover was scribbles from when I was little and a picture I tapped on of me and Brendon hanging out in my backyard when we about 16. Brendon had his arm around my shoulders and was squinting into the camera because the sun was so bright in the sky and I was laughing with my eyes off into the distance because some of Ryan and Brent in the background were tossing a Frisbee and as the Frisbee was in the sky, Brent chased it and didn’t watch where he was going so he ran into our neighbor’s fence.

Every single page was named a year, starting at 1987 and going up. On the first page, me and Brendon were in our parents’ arms outside the Urie’s house, surrounded by my four brothers and Brendon’s four sibling. I was barely six months old and Brendon just a little older. For the first seven years or so, our parents would kick us out of the house and my family and Brendon’s would come together and make a snowman and take a picture by it, but later on they stopped the tradition but Brendon and I carried it out.

Every Christmas morning, before our crazy families would come over for the meal, we grabbed out dogs and ran to someone’s house to build a new creative Christmas Day Snowman. Sometimes they were classified as “original” snowmen, other times we dressed them up with crazy clothes, lawn ornaments and one year I even used Brendon to build the snowman.

I flipped later in the book, where there were two pictures on every page because Brendon and I weren’t together anymore, and found the next empty page to glue on the picture of Brendon in the park with the heart and Spencer as the dog. Next to it I glued the picture of me and Pete outside my tiny house, smiling with rosy cheeks.

Bden69: sorry liz, i’m going to have to cut this convo short. i am leaving a hotel to find a place i don’t think i’ll be able to find and i wont have internet.

SnowCones4Lizzi: Well I’ll call you later then :) Hope you find your destination ;)

Bden69: believe me, i hope i do too! ttyl elizzi!

SnowCones4Lizzi: Bye Bden :)

I exhaled loudly and logged off AIM. I wondered around the house a bit, really without a purpose, finally deciding to take Pete out for a walk.

Once we got back, Pete was exhausted and went to lie down on the couch, so I figured that I could finish my book. Quickly chomping on a sandwich, I plopped myself down on the couch and kicked my feet over the back and got comfy.

About an hour later, ten pages to go in the book, there was a knock at my door.

Pete started howling immediately. “Peter!” I scolded and then ambled to the door. “Who would come to my house at noon on Christmas Day?” I asked myself. I definitely wasn’t presentable; my long hair was up high on my head and my cheeks were rosy, not from the cold, but because I had been laying down in my warm living room and I looked like I had just woken up because of my baggy sweatpants and random red t-shirt that I found buried at the bottom of my drawer.

There was no peep hole or side window for me to look out, so I opened the door slowly and poked my head out.

There, standing there on my doorstep, a radiating smile stretching his cheeks, cold biting at his big nose, snow flakes melting in his hair, visual breath floating out his nose, suitcase in one hand and flowers in the other, was my Brendon.

The word “speechless” or “brain dead” was the only words to describe my situation. Of course, I couldn’t because I had no words in my brain to spit out. I literally stood with my face agape, so Brendon took the first line.

“Hey, Liz,” he said smoothly, and it was just how I remembered it, only this time is was actually his real words ringing in my ears, not my imagination.

Finally I broke out of my trance and sprinted towards him, leaping out my door and into him. I wrapped my legs around him and hugged him as tight as I could, with him holding me even tighter than I was him. After a while, I could feel the cold nip at my bare toes, so I loosened my grip and allowed Brendon to step in.

“I-I can’t believe you’re here!” I exclaimed, still struggling to regain my formation of words and sentences.

Brendon chuckled and swung an arm around my shoulders. “Well I wanted to surprise you, and I figured what better day than Christmas to mess with Lizzi’s head?”

I laughed and hugged him again. “Well, this is an amazing present!”

A couple hours of chatting and catching up, we were right where we left off from eight months ago. I sat on the couch with my head resting on the arm rest and Brendon was lying with his head on the opposite arm rest as we talked.

He picked up the book that I was reading earlier that was on the end table near his head and studied. “Hemingway? Really?”

I rolled my eyes and nudged him with my leg. He always gave me crap about my liking for Hemingway’s books. “Yes. Hemingway.”

“Hemingway? Why? His writing is so stupid. It’s confusing and pointless. It doesn’t make sense.”

I laughed, “No, you just can’t comprehend the meaning of his work because there is no naked girl on the cover!”

He chuckled and rolled his eyes back at me and changed the subject. “From your mom I presume?”

“Yep,” I replied, popping my “p” with annoyance of the subject about my mother. Brendon knew that my mom and I didn’t get along very well. It wasn’t that I hated my mom, because I loved her, but we just didn’t agree on certain morals. Like me moving twenty miles away from and pretty much going AWOL and never visiting or calling.

Brendon sat up and switched sides of the couch so he was laying parallel to me with his head on the same armrest of the sofa as me and wrapped his arms around me.

I tensed a little at first, but relaxed into him as we continued to lay in front of the fireplace with the warm fire cackling for us. My eyes were droopy, so I closed them but didn’t fall into slumber. I thought Brendon was sleeping behind me because of his light, even breaths that I felt on my neck, but just as I always fell asleep from the coziness, I barely heard him whisper.

“I could stay like this forever,” he said breathlessly, his warm exhale centimeters away from my neck.

Shivers ran up my spine. It almost scared me, how easily I wanted to shake my head in agreement. I had had boyfriends before, but none long term. I always broke things off, and now looking back, it was because they didn’t meet my expectations; they say a girl likes a guy because they find similar traits in them that their father has. I didn’t break things off with the boys because we got into fights or was cheated on, but simply because I was turned off by something that they did or they didn’t do something that I liked. But nothing about Brendon turned me off, in fact, even the weirdest, most repulsive truths that I learned about him through our long lived friendship didn’t turn me away or make me think twice about him. I didn’t brake up with the boys because they weren’t like my dad, I broke up with those boys because they weren’t Brendon.

I didn’t know why it wasn’t obvious to me before, but lying under the snug and homey blanket with the apathetic fire blazing, it felt right. And Brendon was right, I never wanted to move. I wanted to lie in his arms forever, and ever, and ever.