Together by This Christmas Tree

john o'callaghan

Cally was so different around Gemma and Henry. It was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and suddenly, she was who I imagined her as a teenager; young, full of love and affection, and daring to do something.

She smiled at me from across the hall, where her small, but beautiful, bedroom was. She leaned against the doorway while Gemma and Henry were downstairs, preparing afternoon tea for the foreigners. I pretended not to see Cally until she delicately wove her arms around my waist, leaning her head against my back. “So, John, what do you think of Gemma and Henry? Of England? Of the Roberts mansion?” She murmured, but when I hesitated, moved to lay across my bed.

She had changed, and she looked beautiful. She looked more rested, now dressed in leggings and a long tank top, her hair tied unceremoniously on top of her head. She smiled at me, and I returned my gaze back to my suitcase, thinking of the awkward phone call with Sumner just a few moments ago. “They’re sweet, Cally, and England is ... I’ve always loved England.” I hated how my voice was dismissive, like I didn’t want to be here, or I didn’t want Cally here, when in reality, that’s all I ever wanted in life. Cally stood, murmured something under her breath, and walked back towards her room.

I’m not proud.

Gemma laughed as Cally grabbed a biscuit from the pile, flipping another page in the scrapbook the two had pulled out. Henry and I had been sitting in silence for half an hour while the girls had looked through their high school years. Henry gently tapped my arm, nodding towards the door.

Henry handed me a beer, and smirked. “They did that two weeks ago, when Cally was here last.” Henry was tall, muscular, his brown hair swooped out of his eyes. He looked like a typical British boy, but he was wearing a The Who t-shirt and slacks, and it seemed to he and Gemma were a match made in Heaven.

“Sounds like something Cally would do,” I said, taking a grateful sip of my beer, ice cold in my hands. Henry looked at me in silence for a moment, before speaking slowly, as if he thought the girls would hear him over the sound of their giggling and Cally’s occasional adorable snort.

“What are you and Cally, exactly, John?” Henry asked, and when my head snapped up, he put his hands up in defense. “I like you, John. But to watch Cally get her heart broken again..” His voice trailed off, before murmuring under his breath. “Because that was such a disaster the first time, no wonder she was scared to come here again..” And I was intrigued instantly.

“What was this big disaster?” I asked, and Henry shook his head, his hair flopping all around his head as he smiled his boyish smile, which was annoyingly attractive.

“No, Cally should tell you. After all, it’s her own problem.” Henry shook his head again, less violently this time. “That’s why I’m surprised she brought you. She told us she’d be backing off for awhile, finding herself in herself instead of in anyone else. I don’t know, she’s attracted to guys who are afraid of commitment.”

Shit.

Henry continued. “Still. You seem like such a great addition to her, and definitely not a scumbag. I hope you too are happy-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, feeling obligated to cut in, despite wanting desperately to have the rules no longer apply and make it okay to be with Cally only while we were here. However, there was still Sumner back home. “Me and Cally aren’t together. I’m actually with this great girl who-” I was at a loss for words, but quickly covered it up, like I was so used to doing. “Cally and I are nothing but best friends.” Henry nodded, sipping his own beer as Cally and Gemma came back into the kitchen, a tad less giggly. Gemma smiled at me and hooked her arm around Henry.

“I say that I make dinner for the happy couple tonight,” Cally said, quietly, smiling at Gemma and Henry. “Because, Gemma, you two have final preparations to do, and well, we’ll all be hungry in a few hours. I know a great recipe for pasta, keeping it low carb,” She said, winking at Gemma, who smiled gratefully. The duo was gone soon after, leaving me and Cally alone in the huge kitchen, caked in stone and old appliances. Cally began gathering ingredients. “You don’t have to stay here, John. You can go call Sumner, or the guys, or go write a new song or whatever you artist types do for fun,” Cally said briskly. I chuckled, letting go.

“Why would I do that when I get to spend time with my best friend, right here?” I said, and began to dice tomatoes, noticing the small smile of Cally’s lips as she shook her head, murmuring things under her breath even I, the king of murmured words and forgotten tales, couldn’t understand.

Some time passed with the only conversation the sound of knives hitting cutting boards and food cooking, before Cally began to sing a song, one I knew well, since I wrote it. “I was the dark before the dawn, the voice without a song, the words that came out wrong, but you heard me all along,” She sang quietly, and I joined it, smirking all the while. She knew my songs.

“I was the storm before the calm, the hope is hanging on, the words that came out wrong, but you heard me all along,” I sang, and her eyes bore into mine, both of us suddenly trapped in that place between knowing and wondering what would happen next.