Christmas Lights

“Go to hell,” she hissed at me.

“Why are you being such a bitch?” I shot back.

“Oh, gee, I don’t know! Maybe because I have to put up with your shit all the time! And what do I get back? Exactly what I was fixing up! Shit!” Christina retorted angrily, her volume rising.

“God, Chris, why do you always have to turn it around to me?” I exclaimed. “It’s Christmas, for God’s sake!”

Christina glared at me, and I swear, if looks could kill, I would’ve been dead in five seconds flat. After a few moments, she softened. “God, Alex, I just…” She looked up and blinked rapidly. “I’m just so tired of this.” Tears slid down her face, and she looked at me sadly, with her big blue eyes. “So, so tired,” she whispered.

“What… what does that mean? What do you mean?” I asked softly. I didn’t want to hear her answer; I didn’t want her to give me the answer I knew she would give.

“I… I think—” She hiccupped as her tears increased. “I think we should take a break.”

“Chris… please don’t…” I reached for her and she backed away, shaking her head, her black, short hair swinging widly.

“Alex… you know I love you… but this non-stop fighting. It’s just too much. I feel so down every time I come home. Because all we do here is fight.”

Tears sprung to my eyes, and my chin trembled. It does that when I’m about to cry. I hate it, because people always know when I’m about to break. “Please…” I reached for her once more, trying desperately to catch some part of her, but she stepped back once more.

“No,” Christina said softly. Still crying, she grabbed her coat off the chair and walked out of the flat.

“No!” I yelled. Standing in the living room, I cried out of pain and fury, fury of letting her go. I felt that fury seep through me like poison in my blood, and I turned and hit the wall. “No!” I hit it again. “No, no, no, no.” I lost my energy, and my fury was replaced by sadness. I leaned against the wall and bawled my eyes out.

I need to get out of here.

I grabbed my coat, feeling defeated, and walked out of the flat. I shut the door and made sure to lock it. What I wanted most was for Chris to be there when I got home.

I didn’t know where I wanted to go, so I just sighed and walked, allowing my feet to guide me. I found myself at Oxford Street. Chris loved to shop, and we went there often. We had even met at Oxford Street. She had been window shopping, and I had looked down at my phone to check the time and ran her right over. Her coffee got all over my shirt; we both apologized to each other and agreed that having lunch would certainly make up for my running her over and her spilling coffee on me.

I sighed and looked at the candles and lights in the shops. The shops were closed, deserted; everyone was at home with their families. It was Christmas.

But it certainly didn’t feel like Christmas to me. I’d never had a really bad Christmas before. The worst had been when I was a child and didn’t get the presents I wanted.

This was so much worse.

But maybe waiting for Chris was like waiting for snow to fall. You sit there in anticipation for days and day, but it doesn’t happen until you give up on hoping for it.

I continued down the street, looking at those glittering Christmas lights. Christina always used to sing me a song; I had never bothered to look it up. But I knew it well. Very well. “Your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones,” I sang out of tune. “Turn into something beautiful. You know, you know I love you so…” It made me feel a little better, even when a man passing by shot me a glance that told me he thought I was crazy. Or maybe it was just that I was horribly out of tune. “You know I love you so.”

I sighed and looked at my watch. 11:20. Time to head back home. I turned around and started my journey back. I looked at those bright Christmas lights, lighting my way back home. Maybe, she’d see how beautiful they were, and see what I see, and maybe, just maybe, their magic would bring her back to me.

The lights blurred together, and I soon realized that I was running. The lights had instilled something in me, something that told me that she would be home, waiting for me. I arrived at the flat and clumsily took out the keys and put them in the lock. I swung the door open, and there was my dear Christina.