Melt Your Headaches, Call It Home

"So where are we going again?" Jon asked, with one hand in his pocket and the other clutching a wreath as we walked down the street.

I shot him a quick, "You'll see," as I concentrated on finding the numbers on the houses.

We were in the old part of town where great trees made an arch of intercrossing branches over the road, along which great, big, Victorian style houses sat behind black iron fences. We were looking for Rose's address.

This morning, I woke up at eight, abruptly as if someone had blown an air horn in my ear. I lay there for a second before I glanced out the window to see snow swirling around in the wind. It was a white Christmas.

I was excited; I have had someone to spend Christmas with. I slowly made my way out, and was met with the heartwarming sight of the twinkling lights on the tree and the presents under it. Jon was snoring softly on the couch.

As I was fixing the traditional breakfast comprised of Cinnamon rolls, from the best smelling place in the world, Cinnabon, Jon woke up and so we stuffed our faces before attacking presents that were mainly mine. I think I came out with a really good haul this year, especially considering last Christmas, which sucked.

We sipped hot apple cider laced with cinnamon as we watched the cats frolic in the wrapping paper and basically just talked about life until I realized that the Grinch was on, the original of course. We sang along to all the songs and once the movie was over it was time to leave.

"Here it is," I said, throwing out an arm to stop Jon as we reached the house with the right number.

"Why are we here?" he asked, slightly perplexed.

I told him about what had happened last night and when I was finished he asked, "So we're going to dinner at the house of an old woman you've talked to for ten minutes."

"Uh, yeah?"

"You were going to go alone?" Jon asked as his expression darkened, I have only ever seen Jon angry once and it was nowhere near this level.

"I don't understand what the problem is, why…?"

"Why? You don't understand why? Charlotte, she could be dangerous or know dangerous people, like serial killers or something," he was building up steam, "Do you realize how stupid this would've been for you to go by yourself?"

"I –"

"Promise me you won't do anything like this unless you at least have someone with you," he said heatedly, "I mean, that Carson guy still hasn't been caught yet."

I gulped, oh yeah. From the Blockbuster security cameras the police were able to I.D. my attacker as this ex-con named Fredrick Carson but they couldn't find him. They said it was like he had vanished, which was not exactly what I wanted to hear.

"I promise," I said meekly.

He took one of my hands in his, "I didn't want to scare you or anything," he said more gently, "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"I took those self-defense classes…" I said feebly, trying to restore some of my dignity.

Upon hearing that Alice and I would be left all alone by ourselves with no man to protect us, Ben saw fit to sign us both up for those martial art classes for women. I have to admit, they were actually pretty cool. I could kick a normal guy's ass now.

"Whatever," said Jon, he knew I got the point, "Most likely, we're going to have dinner with a nice elderly woman, but especially with you, you can never be too careful." He sounds like a dad.

We stood there for a second before Jon said loudly, "Let's do this," and went skipping up the walkway like the dork he is, making me run along after him.

As I reached up with my free hand to knock, the door swung back to reveal Rose's frail but vibrant figure in a gingerbread apron. "Hello, welcome!" she said ushering us inside the foyer, "I saw you coming up the walkway as I set out my cookies." Jon's eyes brightened at the word cookies.

She led us into the main room. I glanced around at the walls covered in faded wallpaper and saw that the décor matched the house's look. Most of the furniture looked antique and genuinely used because it was by no means in pristine condition. It gave the room a lived-in, comfortable atmosphere.

The elegant drapes were drawn back to reveal a large bay window that presented us with the view of the gently falling snow on the street. There were pictures covering the biggest wall, filled with countless family portraits and children's school photos. It was like glimpsing into Rose's past as you could see important events timeline, such as a son's college graduation or a grandchild's baby picture. I was most drawn to one the oldest pictures, it was obviously taken on her wedding day for she stood in a gorgeous dress smiling up at a handsome man that could only be her husband.

On the wall opposite the snapshots of memories, a real fireplace, not one of those gas ones, held a dancing, crackling fire whose light cast flickering shadows on the impressive hearth while sending out waves of much appreciated heat. The mantel was draped with stockings and a festive garland.

The other wall space was hidden by bookshelves that were filled with a lifetime of reading. A small Christmas tree perched on the coffee table throwing different colors onto the platter of gingerbread cookies. It completed the room.

"So," Rose said smiling, looking up at Jon, "This must be Ryan. I'm so glad you made it after all."

Jon shifted uncomfortably, "Actually," I forced out, "This is Jon. He flew out from Chicago."

Her eyes flickered to our intertwined hinds that were apparently still intertwined before she took it in stride, "Oh, my mistake," she laughed, "I am so very glad to meet you."

I slipped my hand and gave him a soft push to propel him forward, he stuck out his hand as I said, "Jon, this is Rose."

She reached out to shake his hand but instead he twisted his around and gave her a bow, kissing her hand as he did so, "It is a pleasure to have your acquaintance."

She tilted her head back ever so slightly and laughed, "My, my, now, why don't you take off your coats? I have just the place for them." She showed us the closet just inside the hallway and we struggled to get out of our snow gear and take off the wet boots without flinging moisture everywhere.

"You two go help yourself to some gingerbread men," she said, once we were done, motioning to the full platter of heavenly smelling cookies, "Goodness knows I can't eat them by myself. I'll be out in a minute I just have to check on the ham."

"Do you need help with anything?" I asked. She shouldn't do it all by herself.

"No, dearie," she said firmly, "You go eat some cookies."

"Jeez," I said as I sat down next to Jon on the squishy couch, "Have a cookie." He was already on his second.

"Mmmmm hmmm," mumbled Jon with his mouth stuffed full, "Delithous, they 're rully 'ummy." I smiled, he is such a boy.

"See," I said after I swallowed my first bite, "She is by no means a serial killer."

"This time, he said stubbornly and took another huge bite and admitted, "She's a gud cook 'n she 'emms rully sthweet."

There he was, chomping on a cookie like a little kid with crumbs in his beard struggling to talk through mashed up food. I found it especially funny, don't ask me why, but I burst out laughing.

His eyes widened and he swallowed, "What?" he exclaimed after his mouth was clear, "I was being serious!"

"I… it… beard, funny," I gasped with tears threatening to spring from my eyes. I cry really easily when I laugh, it didn't help that he looked at me like I had three noses or something, because his confused expression made me laugh even harder.

"What is so funny?" he said struggling not to laugh, my laughter was very contagious.

As Rose walked in the room to find us both in tears, she was clearly amused, "What did he say this time?"

Jon still looked baffled as we calmed down, "I have no idea," he admitted honestly. They both looked at to me; I just shrugged.

"Now, Jon," Rose said sitting across from us, "Are you in this disco fever band that Charlotte was telling me about?"

"Disco fever?" I couldn't help but giggle.

"Oh no," Jon said shaking his head, "We started her off again."

But this time it didn't last long because the second Rose shot me a knowing look, with a secretive smile, I shut up immediately.

"What the band name again?" she asked, handing him another cookie. Not that he needed another one, since now he's going on his fifth.

"Panic at the Disco," I supplied, since his mouth was now full, again.

"Oh," said Rose, "You're the ones with the boy in the top hat."

Jon choked and I gaped at her.

"Don't look so astounded," she tsked, "I have a fifteen year old granddaughter. She absolutely loves you boys."

My mouth opened but no sound came out, Jon asked in awe, "You know who we are?"

She sat up straighter, "Just because I am 94 does not mean that I am incapable of knowing a modern, popular band."

We didn't say anything. I don't think we could say anything.

"You're newer album is much better though," she said firmly, like was fact, "I actually didn't mind listening to it at all. You did a good job."

"Thank … thank you," Jon stuttered.

"How did you two meet?" Rose asked once she saw that we weren't mentally able to converse more on that subject.

"Uh, well I was walking home from work one day and this guy attacked me. Basically they stopped him and saved my life."

"…And we've been stuck with her ever since," Jon added.

Rose chuckled merrily, "So tell me, I might have remembered wrong, but are you her boyfriend?"

"No, Ryan is," we both said quickly and then glanced at each other.

We heard a ding from the other room, which spared us any awkward questions.

The second she left our presence, Jon asked, "Why does she think we're going out?"

"Probably because we walked in holding hands," I guessed.

"Oh."

Silence.

I tapped my foot nervously on the floor. He stared at his hands.

"Let's go see if we can do anything to help," I suggested.

"Ok," he agreed.

We stood up and wandered in the direction she had gone, "Rose?" I called.

"In here, dears," she answered.

We followed the sound of her voice and found ourselves in a beautiful kitchen.

"Wow," I breathed looking around.

The white granite countertops contrasted remarkably with the dark wood cabinets and offset the stone flooring on which ornate rugs sat. A ham sat on top of the counter and Rose had her sleeves rolled up, armed with different herbs.

"You're kitchen is amazing," complemented Jon.

"Thank you," she said humbly, "My husband redid most of it… Now, what are you doing in here?"

"We wanted to help."

"You two just don't give up do you?"

We shook our heads.

"Jon, there is a woodpile out back, could you possibly bring in some new logs for the fire? I'm afraid I didn't set out as many as I should have." He nodded. "Thank you."

She offered me the potato she peeling and motioned to the pile of assorted vegetables, "Can you please take care of these?"

"Of course."

After she had finished shaking spices over the ham, back in the oven it went. She pulled out another peeler and joined me at the sink.

"Do you want to know something, Charlotte?" Rose asked, still concentrating on the carrot clutched in her hand.

"Yes," I said curiously.

"Your Jon reminds me so much of my George when he was younger."

He isn't my Jon. I didn't bother to correct her, though, and instead asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, he's good looking, good natured and funny man."

"Yeah," I admitted.

She looked at me with a twinkle in her eyes until my face turned pink and then said, "This Ryan must be someone very special."

"He is," I said fervently.

I sighed. Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy Jon is here. There's a big part of me though, that is wondering how much different this dinner would be if Ryan was the one coming with me. He would've been sweeter and gentler regarding Rose . I had a feeling she would like him just as much.

Then it hit me. Would I even be here if it weren't for Ryan coming? Probably not. Was it worth not seeing him to make the month of an old woman abandoned by her own family members? Maybe there was an upside to this whole… thing. I could live with that. My frown melted from my mouth.

Rose was watching me, "What?" I asked.

She just smiled that knowing smile again. "Oh nothing." With a little verbal prodding however she continued, "Just the way that you two look at each other…"

I was suspicious, "Me and Jon? What do you mean?"

"Before either of you speak, you look at one another. You smile at the littlest things he says. When he thinks you're not watching he studies your face with a little smile of his own."

She was going to go on but I stopped her, "Rose," I said gently, "Sure, I love Jon, but not in that way, not like that. He's my best friend. I love Ryan like… like romantically, I guess. I don't know how to say it."

She tried to mollify me, "It was just an observation, dearie, I'm not saying that you have to leave your boyfriend. Just know that this friendship of yours is very important to both of you."

She fell silent after that and left me to my thoughts which were slightly disturbing. I've always felt sure about how I had compartmentalized my feelings for people.

I thought back to my experiences with Ryan and how I felt about him when I first met him. I scanned over his features in my head. Everything made my heart beat faster, those soft brown eyes, his messy hair, and that smile. God, I love his smile and the way he almost giggles when he thinks something is funny. He can make my skin hot with one kiss or touch and my stomach did flips just thinking about him.

Jon. He is the one to always make me smile. His warm brown eyes sparkle and anyone would have to admit that he has an adorable smile. Of course, we've never kissed so I don't really know what that would feel like and I don't really have the desire to right now. He can also listen, and I would go to him before anyone else, even Ben, if I needed to talk. He's even surpassed Tyler, which is a huge feat.

I smiled; the heavy weight of uncertainty lifted from my shoulders and that feeling of nauseating guilt was gone.

Jon came in from getting the wood looking like a snowman. The snow had picked up. He was almost completely white for a few seconds, but then the heat melted it all and he was just wet. Sucks for him.

We sat down to dinner, Jon dried off a little, and after a short grace from Rose (to which Jon shouted, "Amen!") we dug into the delicious meal. She told us funny stories about her children or things she had done as a teenager. I was laughing most of the time.

By the time she brought the desert, I was already pleasantly full and content. The pumpkin pie looked so good however that we all had to find a little room in our expanded stomachs to put it.

Jon tipped back his chair and rubbed his tummy, "That was the best fu- I mean, well, that was the best meal I have ever had." He grinned sheepishly.

I laughed, but then turned to Rose, "Thank you so much, that was amazing."

"Oh, you two exaggerate but thank you."

We protested as she told us not to clear the table. With a large sigh she accepted our help and together we cleared the plates. Finally, after some more cider by the fire, it was time for us to go.

"Now, Charlotte," Rose said as she handed me my scarf, "You know where I live, so don't be a stranger."

"I will visit soon," I promised, and I knew I would.

"And you young man, next time you are in town, it would be lovely to see your face again."

"Yes, ma'am."

She laughed and shoved a container of cookies and candy into our hands, "Thank you for coming. It means so much to me that strangers would show such kindness to an old woman."

We thanked her profusely in return and eventually we were all able to say our final goodbyes. Luckily, it had stopped snowing. We just had to make our way through the six or seven inches that had already fallen.

As the door clicked shut and we walked toward the blanketed street, I asked Jon, "So did you have a good time?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at me, "I had a caboodle of fun. Do you have a good time?"

"Pssh," I said, "I had the whole kitten caboodle."

He smiled, "Do you even know what caboodle means?"

"No. Do you?"

"No."

I hip checked him out into the deserted road, "Well, I guess that's what you get for dropping out of college."

"Hey," he exclaimed, trying to hip check me back, but I was too quick, "You dropped out too!"

"No," I corrected, "I'm taking a break. There's a big difference."

"Whatever," he mumbled.

I listened to the crunching of the snow and watched the steam of our breath for a minute before I asked with a slightly somber tone, "Jon, when are you leaving?"

His gaze snapped to me and he said jokingly, "If you want me to leave, I can catch a flight now." My eyes pleaded with him and so he relented and said, "I have to go home and pack for the rest of tour so I have to leave tomorrow."

I frowned.

"The flight is tomorrow afternoon at five so we'll have most of the day…"

I just scuffed my feet along making snow tracks.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer." I looked up at him gratefully. "And I'm really sorry that Ryan couldn't come."

"Aw," I said looping my arm around his waist, "I had a pretty awesome Christmas with just little old you."

"Me too." He smiled and put an arm around my shoulder. And that is how I walked home in silence with my best friend, enjoying the snow and the glowing Christmas lights. Then we had a snowball fight.