Poppies for Christmas

by Stacy Renée Keywell

  “It’s chilly.” She exhaled a large puff of air.

  “Sure is.” I smiled at her.

  My eyes crinkled. Tears formed at the corners from the biting wind. My eyes stung.

  “Beautiful night. The Davies family always lucks out with a white Christmas.”

  “Stunning, absolutely stunning.” I looked at her with my mouth gaping open. I skated closer to Poppy to admire her sweet face and dark red lips. She opened her mouth to laugh. Her slightly buckteeth jutted out, adding to her incredible charm.

  I bit my lip until the chapped skin split. I tasted iron. I wanted our moment to last, so I laughed with her. Absorbed in her beauty, I allowed our togetherness to mix with the music. I craved more alone time with Poppy. Everything was so perfect here, so peaceful, and harmonious. Magical.

  “Enjoying yourself tonight?” Poppy asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  I hoped she had already forgotten how angry she was with me earlier in the evening. I slid even closer to her.

  “Yep,” she exclaimed as she readjusted her gloves. “This is my favorite time of year. I embrace the happiness and festivities, sharing my own traditions, and learning about new ones. Creating new ones too, with Declan.”

  I nodded.

  Poppy skated further onto the ice, and twirled in a circle. She held out one foot, and performed her own rendition of Swan Lake.

  Debbie and Dereck joined the crowd. They greeted their friends. They skated around, mixing and mingling. They asked the neighbors about the health of their families, ensuring everyone was having a fantastic time. I noticed that Dereck made sure to steal a few moments in between the chatter to dance with his wife on the ice. Pecking each other lightly on the lips, they celebrated each other. I liked that about them.

  Horns trumpeted out a fanfare from the speakers above, a royal tune meant for only the most important announcements. It belted out the music in a loop. The guests stopped, resting on the ice. They looked to their hosts for the ‘what’s next’.

  “Friends, family, you all know what they means,” Debbie’s high voice rang like bells, “please join us on the deck for some good conversation and warm treats.”

  The crowd of neighbors cheered. They took off in a group back toward the house. They hugged Debbie, giving her gracious air kisses. They slapped Dereck affectionately on the back, full of appreciation.

  Poppy danced on the ice alone. Her body moved in a lovely, synchronous fashion to the music that followed the announcement. She wiggled her arms the way she did at the club, totally oblivious to the people emptying the rink. Closing her eyes, Poppy swayed her hips, and leapt into the air. She landed back safely on her blades. Her ankle faltered. Her body bent to the side. Her eyes shot back open. She readjusted her angle, and looked around the empty lake.

  “Oh. I guess they want us to go back. Come on.” She jumped off the ice, and grabbed my hand.

  My stomach did a fast somersault. We ran together through the woods. The crunchy snow crackled under our skates. Bits of fresh flakes clumped around the hem of my pants, and melted down my legs. The wetness tickled as the trickles of water worked their way down to my socks.

  We entered the dark, creepy canopy. Our legs rustled through the last of the brown, crispy leaves, the last ones to have fallen from the naked branches. The ones that had held on tight to late autumn only to give up as winter greeted them with snow and ice. The thin skin of the plants crackled underneath our sharp blades, making the same sound as a wood crackling over a hot fire.

  “Wait, slow down.” I stopped Poppy under the enchanted forest.

  Our eyes met. Neither of us smiled. We looked at each other for a long time. I had no idea what ran through her mind, I only knew what I hoped ran through her mind. I hoped she saw possibilities. Our gaze lasted for countless moments. I caved. My lids dropped to the ground.

  “Wait,” I said. I took a breath to inhale the fresh, crisp air. “Give me a moment to enjoy the sight . . . uh . . . out there . . . on the lake, from in here. I mean, from in the woods. I want to take it all in. Welcome it. Remember it.”

  I turned and looked through the twisted branches at the icy kingdom.

  “Dexx, you are so right.” Poppy nodded. Her face twisted, pensive, scrunching up as she scrutinized her surroundings. “I do need to stop, admire my surroundings. Smell the pines. Be grateful. Thanks for reminding me to take in the moment! You impressed me tonight, Dexx, in a surprising way. You are so different when you are away from school. Away from your friends. I like you this way, the real Dexx.”

  “Really?” My heart pounded. I feared Poppy would see it fly out of my sweater, and hit her in the face.

  Who was ‘the real Dexx’ to her? I wondered what she perceived as the ‘school Dexx.’ I wondered if I would eventually disappoint her, and reveal the same disappointing Dexx she expected to see after all. I feared the duality, her version of the two Dexxes. The good and the bad.

  I was frightened for her to see how I felt too soon, before I solidified our bond. Would it cause her to reject me? Was I the person that disappointed her in the hall or was I the amazing person she met in the woods? Regardless, I needed to press on. Poppy was happy with this Dexx.

  “Yes,” she smiled bright. “Come on, let’s go. You are going to want to see this!” She grabbed my arm and pulled me along.

  Warm lights lit up the deck. A cozy fire blazed from the pit. Several people gathered close on the wicker furniture. Off to the side, a long table sat with an incredible spread of sweet and savory. Grapes poured out of an ornate bowl. A cheese platter was placed next to chocolate drizzled dried fruit. Dozens upon dozens of cookies, stacked high, were placed on red and green plates. Thin metal poles were laid out next to an assortment of chocolate bars, marshmallow, and graham crackers for making s’mores. Another table held steaming cups of hot chocolate, big bowls of whipped cream, and whiskey and coffee liquor for the adults.

  Some neighborhood children huddled in front of the fire pit, poles in hands, roasting the marshmallows, and stuffing them whole in their mouths. It was like I was zapped from my humdrum existence, and transplanted into the happiest televised Christmas special on earth. It was like a dream I never wanted to awaken from.

  “Pinch me.” I jabbed Poppy in the shoulder.

  “I know, right?” She laughed.

  “Best day ever!”

  I lifted my head and gazed at the starry sky. The bright lights sparkled brilliantly, urging me to cast a dreamy spell.

  “Let’s make a wish,” I suggested to Poppy.

  “Okay.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and mouthed wishful words silently to herself.

  “What did you wish for?”

  “Not telling,” she teased.

  “Well, I wished this night would never end.”

  “Me too,” Poppy agreed.

  Then the impossible happened. Caught up in the moment, Poppy leaned over, and put her head on my shoulder.

  Chapter 15

  Declan

  “N-N-N-o! I-I-I am n-n-n-o-o-o-t a-a-a-l-l-l-eric t-t-t-o th-o-o-o-se c-c-c-o-o-o-kies!” I yelled at my parents.

  We stood at the island in the kitchen preparing the treats for our guests. Dancer nipped at our heels. He sniffed around for treats. Too inside my head, and caught up with the cookies, I could not concentrate on his affections, or deal with any other distractions.

  Like most average, run of the mill, overprotective parents, Mama and Dada insisted that I follow a strict diet to assist with bettering my symptoms. Their philosophy was unfounded, and untrue, absolute baloney, based on unconfirmed trends, and hocus-pocus. Being a grown man, I was at my wits end with their strict thumbs pressing me down, keeping me arrested, making all of my decisions for me. It had to stop. I had to make it stop.

  “Yes you are, Decl
an. You are allergic to these cookies,” Mama insisted.

  “N-N-N-o-o-o, I-I-I’m n-n-n-o-o-o-t! P-o-o-o-ppy m-m-m-a-a-a-de th-e-e-e-m!”

  My hands came down hard, hitting the marble. They crushed a dozen cookies under my fists.

  Several other sweets shattered. They smashed into a thousand pieces under my hands. Crumbs flew everywhere. A sugary dust cloud of anger and frustration floated into the air. The aftermath of my fit of rage covered the floor, ashes from a big volcano, evidence of my anger settled on the floor, millions of tiny, sad crumbs. Dancer barked.

  “Oh, Declan, look what you did,” Mama spat, frantic. “We have guests waiting outside. I don’t have time for this!”

  “I-I-I d-d-d-i-i-i-n’t m-e-e-e-an i-i-i-t!”

  My hands shook. They flapped with dithery. My brain scrambled to make sense of my emotions. But the words, the words stuck in my throat, bubbling lava ready to blow, only to be blocked by a rock, an unmovable rock, that closed the hole to my argument.

  “Listen, darling, I get it. I understand. Poppy baked these cookies. So, they are very special to you. But, you can’t have them. You are allergic.”

  Mama calmed down as she spoke, relaxing her tense body, as she mentally prepared to meet her guests with a smile.

  I wasn’t having it. I wasn’t having any of it. It was time for me to grow up, and make my own food decisions, take ownership of my body, and control what I allowed myself to put inside of it. And, I wanted to eat normal Christmas cookies!

  “N-N-N-o-o-o, ya-ya-ou d-o-o-o-n’t understand! I-I-I am n-o-o-o-t a-l-l-l-ergic! I-I-I t-t-t-e-e-ested the th-e-e-e-ory! I-I-I d-d-d-o-o-o-n’t have C-c-c-eliac-s-s-s d-d-d-d-idease! I-I-I d-d-d-o-o-o-n’t h-h-h-a-a-a-ve t-t-t-o cons-u-u-u-me a-a-a g-g-g-g-luten f-f-f-r-r-r-e-e-e d-d-d-iet! I-I-I a-a-a-sked! I-I-I a-a-a-sked a-a-a-a d-d-d-o-o-o-ctor! I-I-I t-t-t-e-e-e-sted the th-e-e-e-ory! I-I-I ate w-w-w-w-heat. S-s-s-e-e-e? I-I-I’m f-i-i-i-ne? N-N-N-N-othing h-a-a-a-ppened! N-N-N-N-othing a-a-a-t all! Ya-ya-ou d-d-d-o-o-o-n’t h-a-a-a-ve t-t-t-t-o w-w-w-o-o-o-ry a-a-a-bout m-m-m-e-e-e!”

  My hands flailed with passion. I’d eaten gluten. Nothing happened. I was fine. I’ve eaten Poppy’s cookies before. My parents didn’t know if I actually had Celiac’s disease. They diagnosed me themselves from reading too many articles online. No doctor or nutritionist had ever confirmed it or even questioned my diet. In fact, they said I could consume anything I liked in healthy, modest portions. But my frenzy did not stop with wheat consumption. I had more to say. I needed to get it all out of my system, so that I could enjoy myself.

  “I-I-I’ve e-e-e-aten everything! R-e-e-e-d d-d-d-ye, d-d-d-a-a-a-iry, p-p-p-rocessed f-f-f-o-o-o-o-d, ya-ya-ou n-n-n-a-a-a-me i-i-i-t. P-o-o-o-ppy g-g-g-ets i-i-i-t. P-o-o-o-ppy knows I-I-I’m f-f-f-i-i-i-ne. A-A-A-sk h-e-e-e-r! A-A-A-sk h-e-e-e-r ya-ya-ourself!”

  “Declan, calm down. We’re only trying to help you, buddy.” Dada crept closer to me as if he were taming a lion.

  “A sixteen-year-old girl has no clue how to take care of a fully grown man, nor does she deserve the responsibility. She loves you, Declan, she does. But Poppy is still a child herself. You can’t rely on her to assess, and diagnose your dietary needs. You shouldn’t expect her to handle . . .” Mama cut in on Dada.

  “Ya-ya-ou are n-n-n-o-o-o-t l-i-i-i-stening!” I pounded hard on the counter top.

  Tears fell from my eyes in frustration. I backed up. My jaw clenched, then ticked, forcing my mouth to open and close wide like a hungry koi flapping its lips in a pond.

  “I-I-I’m s-s-s-o-o-o-ry.”

  I had so much to say. I was a grown man, twenty years old to be exact. But, I was treated like a child. I didn’t expect Poppy to take care of me. In fact, I planned on taking care of her. My parents refused to understand me. They refused to recognize that I was ready, seriously ready to live my life independent from them. Or, perhaps they refused to accept that I could take care of myself.

  Maybe they were afraid of me leaving them. But, this was why I worked so hard for the past few years. Wasn’t it? I worked towards independence and financial security. And now, I had some decisions to make. Ones I was sure would be less than popular with my parents. But, it was my life, my body, and my choices.

  I exhaled. My body shook. Tears rolled down my cheeks, stinging my eyes. Fine! Perhaps, Mama was right. Now was not the time, but I had to have an important conversation with my parents about my future plans, some of which, obviously, involved Poppy.

  Mama and Dada dropped the goodies from their hands. They walked around the island, and formed a circle around me with their arms. They hugged me tight, squeezing me hard until I calmed down, and the tears subsided. They closed the circle. Dancer bounced around us, hitting our legs with his fluffy, little tail. I rested my head on their shoulders, nuzzling my parents the way I did as a small child when the words failed to flow. My affection for them never ceased even if the words stopped.

  “We love you. We are here for you, always! We are here to stand by your side, and to love you. We hate to see you so sad, so angry, and so frustrated. We’ll talk more, later. But, for now, we’ll trust you to make sound decisions, healthy decisions, wise decisions for yourself,” Mama sniffled.

  I nodded. Dada patted me on the back of my neck.

  “Hey, guys, what’s taking so long?” Denver popped her head in the kitchen. She juggled a tray of coffee cups to take out on the deck. Dancer bolted for the door. I grabbed him before he could bowl her over, and break the mugs. He retreated to the island, and happily licked up the cookie crumbs off the floor.

  “H-H-H-e-e-e-re, l-l-l-e-e-e-t m-m-m-e-e-e h-e-e-e-lp.” I sucked up my tears and cleared my throat.

  “Forget it, dork! You’ll probably trip me and smash all of these cups to pieces like you did those cookies.”

  I chuckled. Denver made me laugh.

  She sneered and rolled her eyes at me. “Well? Dufus! What are you waiting for? Are you going to stand in the middle of the kitchen and drool, or are you going to get the door for me?”

  I hurried to help Denver set up the cups for the hot drinks. She rushed around, turning the mugs to all face the same direction the way I liked. I smiled.

  “Good enough for you, jerk?” she growled.

  I nodded happily.

  “You better not embarrass me again by bringing up Batman, or any other stupid superhero. I’m over him! So over him!” Denver whipped around, and faced me eye to eye. “I mean it, dude, over him!”

  “B-B-B-u-u-u-t D-D-D-D-e-e-e-e-nver, h-h-h-e-e-e’s b-b-b-e-e-e-e-n a-a-a-round f-f-f-o-o-o-r ov-e-e-e-r s-s-s-s-eventy-f-f-f-i-i-i-ve y-y-y-e-e-e-ars.”

  My hands reached up in the air. My fingers jiggled around the top of her sweater. I rose up on my feet, then looked her in the eyes. I beamed, excited to hear her bring up my favorite hero.

  “Quit it!” she yelled, and stomped away, tossing her hair behind her shoulder.

  Chuckling to myself, I returned to the kitchen to clean up the rest of my mess.

  Batman ran through my mind. I imagined how he might handle my situation. Suave Bruce Wayne tackled his issues with subtle grace, while Batman battled his problems with cool gadgets that defied reality, with unbelievably awesome technology. I seriously needed a utility belt. I adjusted the waist of my pants wondering where I could get my hands on such a belt.

  Getting into that absentminded flow, I strolled back to my room to search for Batman belts when it suddenly occurred to me that I had left Poppy alone on the ice.

  “Uh o-o-o-o-h,” I exclaimed out loud.

  I went off to go find her. I allowed my feet to do the thinking since I left my brain somewhere between cookies and utility belts. I followed my feet from high in the sky until my brain twirled in circles, flushing the thoughts of those belts for a later date. My feet took me to the deck, outside, where Poppy waited patiently for me
on a couch next to that Dexx dude.

  Poppy sprang from her seat to greet me. “Hey,” she said, and laced her hands in mine.

  “H-H-H-e-e-e-y,” I responded. “U-u-u-m-m-m, I-I-I th-i-i-i-nk I-I-I’m g-g-g-oing t-t-t-o e-e-e-at s-s-s-o-o-o-me n-n-n-n-o-o-o-rmal f-f-f-o-o-o-d.”

  I bounced high on my feet, and looked her right in the eye. Poppy looked away. Her eyes drifted off to the distant woods. She pursed her lips, rolling the thoughts around in her head, digesting my words. Her face sunk nervously.

  “Do you . . . do you think that’s a good idea?” her voice drifted.

  “I-I-I t-t-t-a-a-a-lked t-t-t-o my p-p-p-arents. I-I-I t-t-t-old th-e-e-e-m w-w-w-hat w-w-w-e-e d-d-d-i-i-i-scovered. Th-e-e-e-y kn-o-o-o-w h-h-h-o-o-o-w I-I-I f-f-f-e-e-e-el n-n-n-o-o-o-w.”

  “I get that, but, maybe, you should take it slow. You have monitored your diet for so long. You do not want to gorge yourself and get sick. Mmm . . . how about eating just one thing that you have been dying to try?”

  Poppy gently caressed my arm, soothing me with her soft, sage voice. She batted her long lashes at me. Her ponytail swayed back and forth as she moved her head while we discussed my food issues.

  “D-D-Deal. Ya-ya-ou a-a-a-re s-s-s-o-o-o s-s-s-m-a-a-a-rt.”

  I took my hands and formed a heart with my fingers. I bumped them against my chest. Poppy hearted me back.

  “Okay,” she exclaimed excitedly, “what do you want to try?”

  “I-I-I w-w-w-a-a-a-nt s-s-s-o-o-o-mething ya-ya-ou m-m-m-a-a-a-de.”

  “Nah. I’ll get you something tastier. How about . . .” she clicked her tongue in her mouth, “something your mom made? She is a way better cook than I am. Stay here. I’ll surprise you.”

  I nodded. I took her face and snuggled her nose against mine. Afterward, Poppy skipped off to find me that perfect treat.

  She walked away. I took her in, memorized her from all angles, my beautiful girl, my soulmate from the heavens. Every moment we spent together was worthy of a special memory. I crammed in everything we did together until images of us leaked from my ears, which I stuffed back in with adoring force. I refused to forget one iota, one detail, one flash of time we spent together.