Winter Hearts

by A. E. Radley

  Dana loved her accent. It was distinctly Margot's, managing to bend itself to suit whatever situation. Currently it was filled with careful grace and compassion, but Dana had seen her curse a blue streak with a frightening authority, too.

  She didn't take her eyes off her sister's feet. "It was...confusing. I thought I wanted to be away from home. Make a stand as an individual or something. I mostly played video games and tried not to murder my roommate."

  "So...standard freshman experience then?"

  Dana gathered her courage and looked to Margot. "You mean that's normal? I'm not supposed to go slutting up and down campus?"

  She was rewarded with a smile like an angel's. "You could've done that, too, and it would have been fine. I mean, college is mostly one giant existential crisis you take out debt to experience. I'd say your first semester sounds like a success."

  The memory of Lauren's lips whispered over Dana's. She licked them, trying to wash away all that came with the memory. "Too successful, I think. I wasn't expecting my entire world to flip on its head."

  Before they could keep talking, large coffees were pressed into their hands. "See, Margot? Bringing Dana means you'll have someone to talk to while I shop. Now you can't complain!"

  "Oh, but I am a champion complainer. I'm not sure even Dana can save you from the whine I'll be pulling out if you drag me to every store in this godforsaken mall."

  "I've missed you, too," Bridget said with a wink.

  Their banter had always been like this. Mean, quick, and occasionally funny. Dana envied the ease between them, though she knew she'd never be satisfied with the casual level of their friendship. That was for others. Not Margot. Things with Margot would never be casual. That understanding burst in her like a star, numbing her. It wasn't just a crush, or puppy eyes.

  Before she could explore, her sister got a devious gleam in her eyes. "Don't worry. I've figured out the perfect gift for Mom and Dad."

  "You marry an oil tycoon?"

  "Even better. Pictures. With. Santa Claus."

  CHAPTER 6

  "Nope." Dana shook her head. "Not happening."

  Bridget pouted. "Why not?"

  "Aside from the fact that there's a line of sticky, bored, whining children ready to sit on the lap of a man dressed in an old, musty suit and fake beard?"

  "Yes, aside from that."

  Dana huffed. "Because I don't want to sit on a dude's lap as a gift to our parents."

  Margot laughed. "Now I need to see you sit on a dude's lap as a gift to your parents."

  An indignant shiver raced down Dana's spine. "N. O. No. And I thought you were on my side!"

  "I was until I saw your face! Plus you're in the Christmas sweater. It'll be great. And," she said, her smile softening, "your parents really will love it. You're their baby and now you're in college. This is one, last, silly reminder that you and Bridget will always be their kids."

  Her fists balled and Bridget smiled harder. "We've won! She's in. Will you go hold our place in line while I shop?"

  Margot pointed a finger at Bridget's chest. "Are you kidding right now? Please say you're kidding."

  "I'm being economical with our time. Like Dana so generously pointed out, that line is like, an hour deep at least. Tell you what...we'll take turns. I'll go and shop, come back, then you or Dana can go and snag something. That way Dana won't see what I get her."

  At this point, Dana was willing to stand in line while Bridget shopped if it meant not having to put up with this anymore. She felt worn down. Thin. "It's fine. I'll hold the spot. Y'all go shopping and just check in with a text message."

  Margot shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous. I'll wait with you. My parents already know what they're getting from me." There was a hitch, the comment made icy, and Dana threw her an arched eyebrow. Margot missed it, though. She and Bridget were sharing a knowing look. It was the gentlest she'd ever seen her sister's face, and for a moment, Dana was seized with envy. Her sister and Margot...her sister and Margot? Was there something she was missing? Could this holiday get any more laden with torture?

  The answer seemed to be "no" because Margot hooked an elbow in Dana's and dragged her toward the long, winding line of people waiting to meet Santa, perched on his throne in a cotton-and-ribbon winter wonderland. The gesture didn't feel as exciting as all the touches before. Dana, still hyper aware of everything Margot did, now suspected something worse.

  They got in line and ignored the looks of put-out parents when they noticed the absence of children and took in the loud holiday sweaters. Margot kept her arm linked. It was intimate. It created distance. Hooked together like this, Dana couldn't turn to look Margot in the face. Not that she was sure she had the nerves to, anyway.

  They shuffled. "Oh, Christmas Tree" blared while bitter-faced elves weaved through the line, handing out stickers and assurances that it won't be long, you just need a little patience to stay on Santa's nice list.

  "Bridget really is something," Margot said under her breath. Of course, Dana caught every word. She'd always catch every word of Margot's, catch them and put them under a microscope in her mind, whatever it took to understand this first love of hers. This sentence prompted quick, bitter examination.

  "She's a bitch," Dana replied. Instantly, she hated how young she sounded. Juvenile. Petulant.

  Margot's throaty laugh didn't make her feel better. It was probably borne from pity. "She's hard to be around for sure."

  "Yet you've stayed friends. All this time. Hell, it's only been a few months and I don't talk to anyone from high school. It's been years for you at different colleges, living different lives, and you're spending Christmas with us like its normal."

  Dana was saddened when Margot slid her arm out and stepped away. She hid her disappointment with a giant sip of over-sweetened milk that may or may not have coffee in it. It was impossible to tell beneath the syrups that left her mouth feeling coated and itchy.

  "This year is complicated. My parents are in Nepal."

  "Last year Bridget told us you spend the holidays in New Delhi. Which, by the way, sounds incredible. Are your parents climbing Everest or something?"

  Margot smirked but it didn't reach her eyes. "Or something."

  The line slithered forward. The noise of the mall seemed to smash together into one holiday-themed drone. Dana couldn't stop looking at Margot. Her chest squeezed. Her palms were sweating. "I'm glad you came," she said finally, feeling dumb. Knowing it wasn't enough.

  "Hey kid," Margot said. "Me, too."

  They passed the time with Margot asking about classes and majors. Laughing at the absurd stories that came from such a remote school. It helped Dana to loosen up, to get on familiar ground. These were her experiences. She could share them now. It was something she had in common with Margot--those months in school, the learning both in class and especially out of it. She liked making Margot laugh.

  "And so we were in Ryan's steakhouse. Like, we'd scrimped that week, eating only on our meal plan and drinking forties instead of fancy beer, you know? Just so Anna, me, and some girls down the hall could eat at a restaurant."

  "You chose a Ryan's steakhouse!?" Margot's eyes were wide and brilliant, the brown of them almost golden under harsh mall lights.

  "We didn't choose it--it was the only restaurant in town! That wasn't fast food, at least."

  "Shut up."

  "I'm serious. We've got a Walmart, more fast food than you know what to do with, and a Ryan's steakhouse. That's it for like, forty minutes in all directions."

  "That's nuts!"

  Dana laughed. "I know! So we're sitting there, getting ready for a buffet--no, come on, let me finish--and these girls all come in wearing elaborate dresses. Blues, purples, reds, golds. There are sequins and lace and like, fucking glitter galore. Their hair was in updos, their makeup Glamor-shot ready--"

  Margot stopped her, hand on her shoulder. "Are you kidding me? Their prom date dinner was at Ryan's Steakhouse?"

  "Like I said,
nicest restaurant in town."

  They both laughed again, loud enough to receive more glares, but thorough enough for the tightness between Dana's shoulders to begin to relax. They were five children away from Santa.

  "I should text Bridget," Margot said, wiping tears from her eyes.

  "Remember how she said we could take turns? I really could've used a bathroom break. Especially after that monster coffee."

  "No joke! Just please don't pee on Santa until after the photo, okay?"

  "Har har."

  Margot pulled out her phone and Dana took a moment to look at her shoes and breathe. This was the best moment. This was as good as Christmas was going to have to offer that year. Standing in line with the girl she'd loved since she was a tween. The girl who might love her sister? But surely would never see her in any light beyond "adorable younger sibling of best friend." A title possibly that lent itself even more towards Purgatory than "best friend who doesn't return feelings" did.

  "Okay, she's on her way."

  Bridget would return. She'd embarrass Dana in front of Santa and Margot. Margot and she would share more looks, reminding Dana of how deeply they knew each other and how young and on the outside she was. At least this was a good idea, even if she didn't want to admit it. Her mom would eat this right up. And I am going to eat my weight in cookies when I get home.

  Except suddenly there was only one child between Santa and her. The previous four had been siblings and taken one photo with all of them, their frazzled mother threatening them under her breath while Santa's eyes flared in surprise and panic. "How far away is she?"

  Margot scanned beyond the crowd. "She said she'd hurry, but I don't know which store she's in."

  Knowing Bridget, it could easily be the other side of the mall. A lump of panic rose in Dana's throat, making it difficult to breath. She tried to swallow but couldn't. "Should we get out of line and wait for her?"

  "If we get out of line, there's no point in getting back in. Look." Margot pointed behind them.

  In the time since they'd begun waiting, the line had stretched and wrapped. They were looking at another hour's wait at least. "Nope. Fine. It's Bridget's fault and she can come up with something else to give them."

  The photographer came up, took one look at them, and frowned. "Santa's ready for you girls," he said in a voice that managed to be smooth yet snide.

  Dana started to leave but Margot grabbed her arm. "No way. Go do it. It'll be cute, your parents will love you, and you'll make Bridget look bad."

  "What about you?"

  Margot's nose wrinkled as she smiled, but her eyes seemed sad to Dana. "I'm not really a part of the family." There wasn't time to push her. The smooth part of the photographer was crumbling and only impatience was left.

  "Are we doing this, ladies?"

  "Just go," Margot insisted. "Bridget's loss."

  Dana huffed, her stomach in a knot. "I hope her mascara was worth it."

  And with that, at eighteen years old and dressed in her mother's overlarge, bright Christmas sweater, Dana went to sit on an old man's lap.

  CHAPTER 7

  The man grunted a bit when she sat down. Dana felt heat rush to her cheeks. She hadn't actually started binging on holiday baking yet.

  "And, uh, what do you want for Christmas, little girl?"

  Her brows pressed together and she looked at him in shock. "What?"

  "That's how this works, kid. Or did you not do Santa when you were a child? You sit on Santa's lap, tell him what you want, smile for the camera, and hopefully mommy and daddy leave you something special under the tree Christmas day." He sounded tired and amused. Dana latched on to the amused. For all the ickiness she felt while perched on him, this Santa had probably had a long day. So many kids, possibly pee, outrageous demands, and he was still able to joke. Good for him.

  "Are you saying Santa's not real?" She gave a mock gasp.

  He winked. "I'm saying Christmas is a time for hope and wishes, and it doesn't matter how old you are. We all need it."

  She bit her lip. Bridget could never, ever know, but Dana was already glad that Margot had forced her to go through with this. It was sweet. Weird as hell, but sweet. And her parents really would love the photo. But, since this poor, poor Santa had been sitting and listening to whiny kids all day...

  "You see that girl that came with me?"

  "The one in an equally loud Christmas sweater?"

  "That's the one. What I really want for Christmas--" she leaned in, whispering, "is to kiss her."

  He choked a little, rocking both of them as he coughed. "Well...I can't decide if that puts you on the nice or naughty list."

  "If wishes and hopes are what we're banking on, I'm all for naughty."

  At that moment, the photographer motioned. She turned, flashed her best shit-eating grin while the man whose lap she was on tried to keep it together. The bulb flashed and she patted Santa's back. "Thanks for making a pretty bad day a little better."

  "Thanks for making a long day a little entertaining," he replied. "I hope you get your wish."

  Margot walked with her to the podium where they could view the photo and purchase it. "What did he say?"

  Dana felt her ears prick with embarrassment and looked at the screen. "He wanted to know what Santa should bring for Christmas?"

  "What did you say?" A harmless question, but Dana's heart thudded nonetheless.

  "Someone to do my laundry so I don't have to borrow any more of my mom's clothes."

  Margot snorted and they laughed. When Dana tossed the Santa a last look, she caught him giving her a knowing nod. As if she could truly expect some sort of winter magic to lead to the kiss she'd been dreaming of since she was twelve.

  Yeah, right.

  "I can't believe you guys didn't wait for me." Bridget was pouting as she drove them home. "I was like, seconds away."

  Margot, to Dana's relief, was fighting this battle for the both of them. "You didn't pull up until the photo was printed and we were done. That's not seconds away."

  "It wouldn't have been a big deal to wait."

  "It would have been an enormous deal. Brig, I'm saying this out of love, but you're real fucking oblivious to other people's needs sometimes."

  "This entire trip was for gifts! That's nothing but thinking of others. And now Dana's going to look cute and clever with my idea while I'm going to have to grab, like, a gift certificate to Olive Garden or something."

  "Boohoo. Poor you, having to suffer so for your parents." The ice in Margot's tone gave Dana the shivers, and she was cowering in the backseat, out of direct line of fire.

  She watched her sister's shoulders tighten. Bridget gripped the wheel at ten and two, when she normally only kept one hand at six. It was becoming clear this was a real fight, not the kind of joking banter they normally had. Dana shrank further into her seat, waiting for the acid reply her sister was probably working on. When it came to fighting, Bridget always went straight for hurtful blows.

  It didn't come. Instead, her hands slowly slipped down to semi-relaxed places--seven and five-- and she exhaled loudly. "I'm sorry," Bridget said. "I'm being selfish."

  Dana hadn't been looking for proof that something more was happening between her sister and Margot. She'd thought it, fast and sharp, then discarded it as quickly as she could, feeling sticky after. That had been childish jealousy. Besides, her sister dated so many men it was a running joke in their family. And Margot had that one long-term boyfriend, Ted, that she'd been seeing even after they'd left for college.

  Yet here it was. Proof as good as making out or holding hands. Bridget didn't apologize to anyone ever. Except their mom. But no one else. She'd just done it, though. And without having been badgered into it. Just "I'm sorry" and, more to it, "I'm being selfish."

  Nausea crashed into Dana. In high school she'd played softball with the church club, just for fun. There'd been a day when she was playing catcher and the batter had, in a bizarre move, managed to twist and fall as
she swung, sending the bat back, straight into Dana's midriff. All of the air had been knocked from her lungs and she'd felt the bruising pain before she managed her first, gasping breath. Then she'd rolled to hands and knees and puked all over the mound. That was what this felt like.

  I'm being utterly pathetic. A freaking Lifetime teenage movie poster child. She berated herself, knowing that she shouldn't feel so thrown by this revelation. God, she'd been acting a clown just because she'd kissed one girl and hadn't even said the phrase "I'm gay." All she'd managed to admit was she'd always loved Margot. Dana knew she'd get over this. This...this whole Christmas was a comedy of errors. It was bad luck. It was growing up. It was supposed to feel strange and painful.

  None of that was comforting.

  Dana tried to think of other things. The classes she'd signed up for in the next semester. This first year was knocking the dull shit out of the way, everything a 101 or 102. Next year they'd ask her about a major and while she wasn't sure, she was leaning toward history. It seemed interesting enough, something she'd do well in, and bland enough that she could pick up some basic job after school. She wondered if Anna was back in New Jersey, doing whip-its with her friends from high school and complaining about her stiff of a roommate. Anna, who managed to force Dana to get out of the dorm room while simultaneously being a walking public service announcement for overindulging and making risky decisions. She thought about her mom slamming the bowl on the counter, a small act of rebellion in the face of two daughters she never seemed to understand.

  Margot reached over and patted Bridget's hand where it sat on the gear shift.

  Dana looked out the window, staring at the green of the pines and the spindle-armed bar branches of the oaks and elms as they flew by.

  CHAPTER 8

  The holiday passed in the same dream-like blur it had when she was younger. Dana slept in every morning. She did just enough laundry to avoid borrowing from her mother's closet. She read and watched T.V. with her father while Margot and Bridget helped her mother in the kitchen, helped her deliver cookies to friends and coworkers and service workers. They went out together at night, drinking with old friends, while Dana stayed at home, envious and yet unwilling to ask to accompany them. She wasn't old enough--the excuse she used--helped mask the truth; she was finding the numbness tolerable and any more would throw her back into the depression and angst she'd started off with.