North of Light

by J. M. Paul

  “Duh,” she draws out the word. “Because I’m awesome.”

  The corner of my mouth twitches.

  “Oh my God, Nicholas, look!” Cami points at my face. “I think she almost smiled.”

  I smack her hand way and glance around Cami to see Nicholas leaning against the doorframe.

  After Connor dropped his little Emily bomb yesterday, I cracked and lost my pride all over my bedroom floor. When Cami and Nicholas checked on me after Connor left, they found me wound in the fetal position, sobbing my soul out. They took turns in holding me—Cami crying with me, Nicholas patting my back and vowing to kill Connor.

  When I finally calmed down enough that I could breathe without heaving, they gave me mug after mug of coffee—because, yes, it does make everything better—and fed me ice cream and cookies because Cami said those were the two main food groups around this time of the year.

  After I fulfilled their requests and we bashed Connor and his idiocies, we reminisced about my parents and tried to make the best out of a bad day. After I felt that I had spent enough time with them, I claimed I had to work and retreated to my room to continue to weep until I fell asleep.

  Cami and Nicholas gave me most of last night and today to wallow in my unhappiness, but now that Cami is continuing to straddle me and Nicholas is standing in my doorway, I guess the pity party’s over.

  Cami bounces up and down on my full bladder and does a little shimmy.

  “It’s Christmas Eve, Noles!” There’s such jubilation on her face; she looks like a child.

  “CC, if you don’t stop bouncing, I’m going to piss my pants,” I warn.

  “And, on that note, I’ll go brew the coffee,” Nicholas says. “You two have five minutes until I come back in here to drag you out. I don’t plan on spending today by myself.”

  And, with that, he leaves. Have to love my twin.

  “How did you grow up with that?” Cami tosses her thumb over her shoulder.

  “The same way you did,” I say through a yawn and stretch, bucking Cami off of me.

  She rolls to her side and props her head up on her hand, facing me. “How’re you doing?” She examines my features.

  I’ve been crying for what seems like forever, so I know I have to look like a mess, and she’ll see through any lie I try to feed her.

  Today promises to suck because I’m dealing with my boyfriend of three weeks breaking up with me. And right before a holiday he made me fall in love with again. But, no matter how hard today is, it can always be worse. At this time two years ago, I was planning my parents’ funeral.

  “I’m doing all right.” I tuck my hands under my head.

  “He’s an idiot, and he’ll realize it.” Cami tucks a piece of my long hair behind my ear.

  “I don’t want his sloppy seconds.” A tear rolls down my cheek, and I curse my stupid girl self for crying so much over a damn boy.

  “Have you seen Emily?” Cami opens her mouth and sticks her finger into it, acting like she’s gagging. “You’re the best there is, Noles. He’s only trying to be the good guy right now. To him, that means he has to save the girl he thinks needs to be rescued the most.”

  “So, it’s okay for him to break me because I’m strong? That doesn’t seem fair.” I sniff and wipe my nose with the back of my hand.

  “Life isn’t fair, sweet cheeks. We just have to do the best with what we’re given and move on.” She leans forward and smacks my butt. “He’ll come around; I guarantee you. I saw how he looked at you when you weren’t paying attention. The boy is desperately in love with you, and he’ll figure that out sooner or later.”

  Cami climbs to her feet and holds her hand out to help me up. When I finally pull myself out of bed, my legs feel weak and stiff at the same time. I guess that’s what almost twenty-four hours of misery in bed will do to a girl.

  “But, before you take him back, make him grovel until he starts to bleed.” She winks. “A girl deserves to have a man kiss her ass after he’s royally screwed up.” With that, Cami nods and then pushes me toward the bathroom. “Go pee, brush your teeth, and by God, get in the shower, woman. You stink.” Cami smacks my butt again and heads out toward her bedroom.

  I do as I was told, and in no time, I find myself sitting at our kitchen table, drinking strong coffee.

  “Feel better?” Nicholas asks.

  “I hate him,” I answer.

  “You said that once when you walked down the hallway, twice when you sat down, and every time you’ve taken a drink of coffee. I think you’ve stated your opinion loud and clear.” Cami gives me a face.

  She doesn’t get to pull a face with me. I’m the one nursing a wounded heart.

  “Why are we friends?” I huff.

  “You’ve already asked me this once today.”

  “Well, it’s worth repeating.” I finish my coffee. The familiar feel of caffeine buzzing through my system makes every part of me feel like I’m starting to come alive again.

  Someone knocks on the door, and we all go silent, looking at each other.

  “Expecting someone?” Nicholas asks me and Cami.

  I shake my head, and Cami says, “No.”

  We’re sitting around the table, drinking coffee like it’s the early morning, but it’s mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve.

  The person knocks again, and then a, “Noel, it’s me. Please open up,” reverberates through the barrier.

  Connor.

  I push back from the table so fast, I almost knock over my chair and my coffee.

  “I don’t want to talk to him. Not yet.” I shake my head and keep shaking it until I start to give myself a headache.

  When did I become this weak human? Grow a pair, Noel!

  “You don’t have to.” Cami marches over to the door and swings it open but not enough that Connor can see me. “What the hell do you want?”

  “Merry Christmas to you, too,” Connor says sarcastically.

  “I’m in no mood for your ’tude, dude.” Cami pops out her hip and perches a hand on it.

  I have to hold back a laugh at her statement. She never fails to make me chuckle, even when I’m angry, broken, and sad.

  Connor clears his throat. “Is Noel here? Can I talk to her?”

  “No.” Cami’s tone leaves no room for argument.

  “No, she’s not here, or no, I can’t talk to her?” he asks.

  “Does it matter?”

  Connor releases a frustrated sigh. “Cam, come on.”

  “No, you come on, Con. You broke my girl’s heart, so you don’t get to show up on Christmas Eve to do whatever the hell you’re here to do and make demands.”

  “I’ve texted and tried to call her, but she’s not answering,” he says.

  That’s because I shut off my phone.

  “There’s something I want to tell her, and I …” I can hear him take a deep breath. “I want to give her this.”

  Cami glances down and points at something Connor must be holding in his hand. “What’s that?”

  “Her Christmas present.”

  Cami’s eyes quickly flash up to his, and an expression I can’t read takes over her features.

  What the hell? I thought I could read every look she had.

  “Is that …” She doesn’t finish her statement as her eyes go wide.

  “Yes,” Connor says simply.

  Cami quickly glances over her shoulder at me and then turns back to Connor.

  “Do you think that’s a good idea right now?” She pauses. “Considering everything.”

  What are they talking about?

  He releases a long exhale, and I hear him shift. “She doesn’t have to open it if she doesn’t want, but I know she’s hurting, and I thought …” He trails off for a moment. “I thought maybe it could bring her comfort.”

  “And win you some brownie points in the process?” I know she’s raising a skeptical brow.

  “If it does, I won’t complain.” I can hear hope in his voice.

  C
ami grabs the present and stuffs it under her arm. “I’ll give it to her, but I won’t promise she’ll open it. I’m not even sure she’ll be happy about this if she does. It’s”—she lowers her voice—“a lot to take in.”

  “I know; I know.” Connor shifts again.

  “Merry Christmas, Connor,” Cami says.

  “Merry Christmas, Cami,” he answers back.

  She starts to shut the door.

  “Cami?” Connor asks.

  “What?” She pauses.

  “Can you put the present under the tree? I’d like her to have something under there to open. It’s half the fun of Christmas. She deserves nothing but the best, and I want her to be happy,” he says so reverently, it causes something in my chest to squeeze.

  Bad emotions. Stop falling for Connor’s sweet-talk; that’s what got us here in the first place.

  I swear, I hear Cami release a girlie sigh, and she’s made of steel.

  Traitor.

  “Will do. Bye, Con.”

  “Bye.” He seems so sad, it pulls at my conscience.

  Cami shuts the door, gives me a look before she holds the wrapped present up in the air, jiggles it, and then places it under the pity tree.

  “I suppose you heard all that?” She gestures over her shoulder toward the door.

  “She heard it,” Nicholas answers from his perch on the couch. His eyes are focused on me, and they seem heavy and full of compassion.

  “What is it?” I nudge my chin toward the gift.

  “You’ll have to open it if you want to find out.” She glances at the time and then at Nicholas and me. “I want some eggnog, rum, Chipotle takeout, cookies, and a movie night to prepare for my family time tomorrow.” She rolls her eyes. “Sound good?”

  “All, except the eggnog.” Nicholas shivers.

  “What he said.” I point at my twin and try to smile, but my mind is still caught up on Connor showing up here—and what that means—and the wrapped elephant in the room sitting under the pity tree.

  Cami groans. “You guys suck. You don’t know what you’re missing.” She rubs her hands together and then ushers us toward the door. “Come on, it’s Christmas Eve, and the whole world shuts down in a couple of hours. If I don’t get my Mexican food fix and my eggnog fix on, it’s not going to be pretty.”

  “It never is,” Nicholas grumbles as he shrugs into his coat.

  “Hey, I’ll make sure Santa skimps on you in the present department.” Cami points at both of us.

  “You guys are exhausting.” I zip my jacket and stomp out the door toward my vehicle.

  We run our errands and then stop at Chipotle to pick up our dinner. When we walk in the door, I run into a man trying to exit.

  “Oh, goodness. I’m so sorry.” I steady his bag, so he doesn’t drop it.

  Lifting my gaze, I find myself staring into familiar, kind hazel eyes.

  “Noel,” David, Connor’s father, says. “What a surprise, seeing you here.”

  “Ditto. Hi, Mr. Vanstone.” I give him a tight smile.

  “Please, call me David,” he says.

  My attention swings around the restaurant, searching.

  “Connor’s not here.” David steps closer.

  Cami waves and smiles at David in greeting before asking me, “We’re going to order before they put everything away. You want your burrito bowl?”

  I nod and turn back to David.

  He takes me in before grabbing my hand. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

  “I’ve been better.” There’s something about David—this unexplainable connection between us—that makes me tell him the truth.

  I’ve been completely out of sorts since yesterday, but in David’s presence, I feel comforted, protected, and at ease. It’s the most surreal yet heartening sensation.

  “If it makes you feel better, Connor has been at his wit’s end these last few days. Especially today.” He frowns before he catches himself and smooths his features.

  “It doesn’t make me feel better. I’m sorry he’s troubled during his favorite holiday.” I rub my forehead.

  “He’s more than troubled, Noel.” David shifts the small to-go bag from one arm to another and waits for me to look up at him to continue. “The problem with Connor is, he has too good of a heart. Ever since he was a child, he’s always put everyone else’s feelings and desires before his own.”

  From what I’ve seen of his son, that is most definitely true.

  “The downfall of that is when he meets manipulative people who know how to play his sincerity against him.”

  His brow arches, and I know he’s trying to tell me something without saying it outright, but my foggy brain isn’t making the connection.

  “Just give him a chance if he asks for one, okay?” David’s concern has me agreeing without thinking. “And, if it counts for anything, I’ve been rooting for you all along, Noel.”

  He winks before rubbing my shoulder and moving toward the door.

  “If you and your friends aren’t busy tonight, you’re more than welcome to stop by the house. Christmas Eve is Laura’s Super Bowl, so we always have a party.”

  He laughs, and I smile.

  “Thanks, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I divert my attention outside and notice snow is starting to lightly fall.

  “Well, the invitation is extended nonetheless.” He pats the bag he’s holding. “I’d better get this back to Laura, or she’ll hide all the cookies from me.”

  We both chuckle.

  He pulls me into a one-armed hug, and I place my ear over his donor heart to listen to it beat. Human nature is astounding.

  “Merry Christmas, Noel,” he says when we break apart.

  “Merry Christmas, David.”

  As I watch him walk out to his SUV in the falling snow, Cami and Nicholas step up beside me with three large bags.

  “Did you leave anything for anyone else?” I ask, pointing at the to-go bags.

  “Nope. Screw it being the season of giving.” Cami smirks.

  An hour later, I’m so full of beans and rice, I can barely move on the couch. Elf is on again, and Will Ferrell is freaking out that Santa is showing up to a department store tomorrow.

  “Are you sure you guys don’t want some eggnog?” Cami asks as she pours herself a second glass.

  “No,” Nicholas and I bark at the same time.

  “Sheesh. I was just asking.” Cami sips the creamy egg juice. “You don’t have to go and get all angry elf on us.”

  “Us?” I question.

  “Me and my inner bitch. I have to include her sometimes, or she gets irritated.” She shrugs.

  Nicholas’s eyes go as large as saucers before he seeks me out. “Does she do drugs?”

  “Just alcohol, but it’s legal in all fifty states, so we’re good.”

  Cami raises her glass in a salute and then takes another drink.

  Elf ends, and Nicholas switches the channel to A Christmas Story marathon that runs every year. The movie has a huge cult following, but I don’t care for it.

  The only part I enjoy is when the family goes to the Chinese restaurant and the employees sing, “Fa ra ra ra ra.”

  I might also like when the dad opens the leg lamp and says, “Fra-gile,” and when Ralphie has to wear the bunny suit … but that’s it.

  We continue to watch movies and eat cookies. Cami and Nicholas fell into a food coma an hour ago, and I’ve been staring at the haunting wrapped present under the pity tree—the beautiful pity tree that Connor and Trey brought over to surprise Cami and me.

  Connor’s generous nature overwhelmed me back then. He cared enough to make me fall in love with Christmas again, even when I thought there was no hope. But here I sit with my family, watching holiday movies, eating cookies, staring at a beautiful tree I wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for Connor, and despite how cracked I feel, I’m enjoying myself.

  A tear rolls down my cheek, and I curse the moisture. I’m tired of crying, of hurting, o
f being broken. My parents wouldn’t have wanted this for me. I don’t want this for me. It’s time to move beyond the hurt and excuses. This is my new life, and I need to figure out who I want to be, where I want to go, and the type of person I want to become.

  Nicholas and Cami continue to sleep on the couch, so I cover them each with a blanket, turn off the television, and switch off the lights, except for the pity tree. My parents always left the tree lights on all night on Christmas Eve.

  Before I head back to my room, I stand in front of the tree, admiring its beauty. It’s a hodgepodge of discounted ornaments and garland put together by two guys who don’t pay attention to detail, but it’s perfect. It represents everything Christmas should be about—kindness, caring, and thoughtfulness.

  I pick up the red box Connor left and make my way to my room. I set it on my bed and then rummage in the back of my closet, looking for something from my childhood that I hid away. When my hand lands on it, I pull it out and smile at the memories.

  It’s a small white birch tree my mom always used to put in my room at the holidays. It’s about two feet tall, and it has white lights. I set it on my nightstand, plug it in, and let a few tears drop. But, this time, they’re happy tears, for all the wonderful experiences I have because of the fantastic life my parents led. Their lives might have been taken too quickly, but they lived every moment they were here to the fullest. That’s how I want to move forward, starting tomorrow.

  I eye the red box sitting next to me. It seems like Connor went through a great deal of trouble to get this present. The least I can do is open it and try to appreciate whatever he put that much thought into.

  I slowly peel back the wrapping, open the white box, and push away the tissue paper. Lying inside is the official-looking envelope Connor had at Harry’s the other night—the one he seemed excited and nervous about.

  What on earth is inside?

  I open it and a thick folder slides out with a note attached to the front.

  Noel,

  I fought with the idea of pursuing this gift because I’m not certain how you’ll react. But, in the end, I obtained it, and I’ll leave it up to you if you want to open it.

  I have a friend who was able to crack into your parents’ medical records and retrieve the list of recipients who’d received your parents’ organ donations. I understand this is major and life-changing—not to mention, illegal, so please be discreet.