Together by This Christmas Tree

john o'callaghan
The girl I bumped into kept crossing my mind as I walked down through the aisles, occasionally looking up to find my seat and my tall body kept getting my head hit on the top of the plane, causing a rude stream of curses to leave my tattered lips, chapped from both singing and licking them constantly, a habit my guitarist got me into. After all, most people spent their lives bored and desperate, while I spent mine in an exciting whirlwind of life and living.

I finally found my seat, 20A, the middle seat for the next eighteen hour plane ride home, back to Arizona and back home to begin my search. I had twenty four days to find her, the one. The girl I would spend the rest of my life with. My dad had met my mom on Christmas Eve, and I was determined to find my princess, like my mother was to him, on Christmas Eve too. Call it crazy, but its what I had been waiting for.

I heard a quiet clearing of a throat, and looked up to see the same blonde girl who had run into me, the one who had looked adorably starstruck. She smiled at me, but the blush hadn’t yet faded from her high cheekbones. “I’m the window seat,” She said quietly, and I smiled wider, for reasons I couldn’t yet figure as I stepped out of the row, letting her through.

She was cute, with a tight ass that was tucked into skinny jeans and a sweater with a low dipped v, her hair pulled carelessly out of her bright green orbs, matching mine almost perfectly. She smiled again as she settled into her seat and nodded out the window. “Are you from Arizona or is that like another pit stop in your long flight home?” She asked, smiling a little.

I couldn’t help it: I smiled wider. “Arizona’s my home state, and Tempe’s my hometown. How about you?” I ask, and something made me want to make sure no one took the seat next to me, because I wanted it to be just the two of us. Which made no sense at all, since while I was impulsive, I was never that impulsive.

She giggled. “That’s really weird,” She said, wrinkling her tanned and freckled nose in the cutest way possible. “I’m from Scottsdale, not even a stone’s throw away,” She said, and I laughed quietly, keeping it quiet, like our conversation was some kind of secret, some kind of great adventure only we could have.

“A stone’s throw away?” I questioned, looking at her eyes, and not at her tits, like I normally did with girls as pretty as her. She rolled her eyes, and stuck her tongue out, and she was still adorable. She stuck her hand out, smiling.

“Cally,” She said, biting her lip and knocking her ankles against the other, making me wonder if it was a nervous reflex. I smiled, taking her hand and shaking it firmly like my dad had taught me, not the dead fish.

“John.” I didn’t bother giving my last name, in case this went nowhere and she told all her friends she met me on a plane. That would definitely not end well for me.
She smiled. “Cute name for a cute boy,” She said as the flight attendant began talking, preparing us for take off in her annoying British accent. She leaned her head against the window, looking down as we took off, her breath hitching in her throat as the front wheels left the ground and we took off.

She was just so beautiful, in so many ways. She seemed to be interesting, in the way that she seemed to be fascinated with everyone but herself. “Cally? You okay?” I ask suddenly, watching as her eyes grew wider and a reddish tint colored her cheeks. She exhaled suddenly, a smile on her lips as she turned to me.

“I’m fine, just still a nervous flyer sometimes,” Her voice was just beautiful, something like a cross between a bell and a Shane’s before he hit puberty, sounding like a beautiful cross of a boy and a girl. She tucked her hair behind her ears, and smiled wider, biting her lip. “Thanks though, John,” She said, and tucked her knees up to her chest, watching the sky fly by below us.

I didn’t understand why I was already so infatuated with her. Sure, there was something about the way she smiled and the tint of the white teeth hidden behind her pale lips, and the way that she attempted to be strong, even when she was scared. She was like me, yet so unlike me all at once. And it was beautiful.

I began to mess with her, testing her slightly. “Want me to hold your hand?” I asked, my voice overly sweet. She laughed, and her eyes still shone, and she grabbed my hand and twisted her fingers around mine, fake gushing.

“Oh my gosh, thanks John!” She said, smiling, but not letting go of my hand, my fingers tingling with more than just low blood circulation. She kept smiling, but it toned down as she looked down behind us, towards the ground. “Do you ever wonder what we mean, what we’re all doing here?” She kept her eyes on the ground below us.

And she was smart too, physiology and always thinking ahead. And that was cute. I smiled, just as she opened her mouth, now facing me, her hand still gripping mine. “Sometimes I do, and then I remember that it isn’t about why we’re here, it’s about the lives we change and the ones we make impacts on, and who will remember us when we’re gone. Because we might be put here for one reason, but our choices define what we’re really here for.” Her expression proved her surprise.

Cally smirked. “What, are you a songwriter or something? That was probably the best answer I’ve ever gotten from that question,” She said, and she squinted, and before I could answer, she tapped my chest, making me wince a little. “You are a singer, and you write your own songs. I can tell. The tattoos give it away,” She said, pulling down on my collar to reveal the one on my chest.

“Like you don’t have any tattoos,” I said, not wanting to breach to subject of my life, my lifestyle. She would freak, I could just tell. And she kept going, on and on, and I loved it.