Your Voice

Christmas comes quick, but then I guess it always does. I spend most of the break with Gemma and Chris, until Dylan is finally off. We all go ice skating one day, and then the next we go into London to walk and enjoy all the sights. I guess I’d never really stopped to enjoy them. Not the way we did this time.

I bought my parents’ their gifts when we went out into London, but not really knowing any personal things they wanted I just got my mom a scarf and my dad a boxset of the X-Men movies. I was pretty sure he liked them, I caught that he recorded them on the TV a month ago. Now he would own them. There was a handful of presents under the tree, some with my name on them. I couldn’t imagine what they’d get me. We weren’t very close in the first place, what could they possibly give me? But at least they got me something. At least they tried.

I wound up buying Gemma a pair of combat boots which might’ve been a touch over budget, but I caught her eyeballing them once online and decided it’d be perfect. She deserved something nice, right? I felt like she did, she was such an amazing friend. I’m sure she got me something equally as awesome.

As for Dylan, it took me awhile to figure out what to get him. I nearly bought a hundred different things, and I definitely by default bought two ties. But that just meant he got more than one present. In the end, I decided to skip the fancy gifts. Nothing too serious. Dylan wasn’t going to expect something fancy from me, something expensive. So I got him a set of Game of Thrones figurines, including his favorite characters and pieces of their descriptions from the books. I’d also bought the first book for us to read together. I knew he’d like what I got him, that’s all that mattered to me.

On Christmas Eve I’m forced to stay at home instead of go out, which makes sense. It’s supposed to be a family holiday, isn’t it? Despite the fact I don’t really want to spend it with my family nor am I close to them. Still, I’ve been caught inside all day. I still text Dylan though, and since my parents plan to open presents today after dinner I’ve made my own plans to go to Dylan’s house. I’d actually spend Christmas Day with them! It was always just the two of them the past handful of years but they were actually letting me join them. It’s like I was a part of their family.

I go ahead and pack my bag for Dylan’s tonight, tucking it safely away behind my door before I pull on a pair of loose jeans and a sweater. I want to be ready to leave as soon as I’m getting the chance, which now that I’m thinking about it is really kind of sad. But I just have a better time when I’m with my friends versus my family, you can’t blame me for that.

Downstairs my mum is cooking a big chicken roast, and they’ve set out presents for me and each other. I settle mine into the pile too, smiling over at them weakly when my mom asks if we’ll sit down and pass the presents out. The reason we’re opening presents today rather than tomorrow, on Christmas, is because my parents wanted to go to my dad’s brother’s house. He lived a good hours drive, so they’d have to leave early tomorrow morning to get there. In the past, I’d been forced to go except the last year when I asked to stay home alone instead. They let me without argument. I didn’t even like it there anyway; my aunt and uncle knew broken sign language and my cousins hardly tried. It’s a trend in the family. But this year, instead of staying home alone on Christmas Day, I got to spend it with people I actually love.

Nice change.

My parents ended up getting me a few books and some new clothes. It’s all nice, and I honestly do like the cologne they get me. I bet Dylan will like it too. I’m just happy they tried. It’s the thought that counts, right? Dylan would probably be upset if he knew that’s how I felt. He didn’t understand.

After presents, my mum has us settle around the table to eat. There isn’t much talking, from what I can tell. Occasionally I catch my parents talking amongst themselves, but I’ve gotten so used to it I don’t find the time to be bothered. What’s the point? The only person whose feelings are hurt, would be mine.

Even if it’s Christmas Eve.
~
When I get to Dylan’s, he opens the door looking quite surprised. “You didn’t text me to come get you!” He exclaims, and then his hands are reaching out and taking my two bags from me (one bag of presents and one bag of clothes). Next I’m pulled into his warm embrace, a nice difference from the nippy air outside, and his moist lips are on my own. Now this is a Christmas Eve celebration I could get used to.

I pull back just to push my hands between us, signing in the cramped space, “I was fine walking. Although it is kind of cold.”

“Poor baby,” he says, and I know he says it because I’ve memorized the way the world rolls off his tongue, how his lips form around it. He leans forward and kisses the very tip of my cold nose, pulling back with a shit eating grin. “I can warm you up real quick,” he says, both hands darting down to take a handful of my ass and squeeze, at the exact moment he sends a sultry wink down at me.

Definitely a good Christmas celebration.

I just giggle, ducking my head down into his neck, kissing at his bare skin and watching him kick the door shut. I pull back after a moment, grabbing my bag full of presents and practically skipping to their small tree, decorated in warm reds and greens. There’s a good amount of presents under the tree. Nothing crazy of course, but a decent little amount. Settling my handful down, I catch glimpses of things from Dylan’s family, Phil and his wife and kids, and am a bit shocked to see my name is on some of them. I’m not to type to snoop through presents though so I quickly stand up and wipe my hands on my thighs, smiling when Gemma enters the room wearing a cute little apron and messy hands.

“Kade! When did you get here?” She signs, not speaking and I realize she must have her processor out. Before I can even say anything, her arms are wrapped around me in a warm, tight hug. It feels really nice. She smells like cinnamon. “Merry Christmas!” She signs, absolutely beaming. I can’t remember a time I’d ever seen her so happy.

“Merry Christmas,” I sign, finding her smile infectious as I look around at their house. They must have decorated it a lot more today than it’s been the past week. Garland had been hung, ribbons from the ceiling. Actually, it was kind of romantic. I could smell sweets baking in the kitchen, and with the lights dimmed low I had stepped into a winter wonderland. I wonder if they always celebrated so hardcore. I wonder if they learned it from their parents.

“It smells amazing,” I sign, and Gemma eagerly grabs my hand and drags me toward the kitchen, where I see the table has been transformed into a literal, edible winter wonderland. They’d made gingerbread houses, and it seems they’d just gotten everything put together and put out all he decorations. Gumdrops, chocolate sweets, icing in every shade, and candy canes. They’d surely be able to make an adequate village for the gingerbread men Gemma had already decorated.

“I was waiting for you to get started on the town,” Gemma signs, still smiling brilliantly. She holds out a Christmas apron I slip on, before seeing Dylan pull on a matching on. I feel myself blush, because this feels so domesticated. This is what a real Christmas looks like and I’m not sure if I’ve ever experienced one like it.

I take my seat, following the lead of my friends as they start to glue candy onto houses with the icing, drawing windows and doors and even sidewalks. It feels very advanced compared to my mediocre little house but no one says a thing. We just decorate in silence, with Gemma occasionally hitting Dylan’s hand when he tries to steal a chocolate. At one point, I apparently get icing on my nose and Dylan leans over to lick it right off, which in turn causes Gemma to hit him upside the back of his head.

I can’t hear the laughter, but I can feel it deep inside me. I think that makes it better.

Once that’s done, we eat them. Admittedly, it’s weird eating our own creations. I want to put them in boxes and give them as gifts to people, but Dylan says if we wait they’ll get moldy and he really wants that chocolate. Which, by the end of the night, proved to be a bad idea because when we’re sitting on the couch watching corny Christmas movies, Dylan practically begs me to rub his stomach because it aches. It’s all I can do not to deny his request, but I figured the least I could do was rub his swollen stomach, full of sweets and nothing solid.

After all, he agreed to spend Christmas with me. And Christmas with a man I actually love is the best present someone could ask for. The presents under the tree, the gingerbread houses in the kitchen, and Gemma strewn across the couch beside me were all added bonuses. I think, if I had to take that all away, and just keep this- just keep Dylan –I would.

I guess Christmas really is about love. Wait, it’s supposed to be the season for giving… Ask me, love trumps it all.