She smiled as she crawled into her bed. “I can’t imagine she can go for much longer. She’ll crash soon. And from the sound of it, she won’t be the only one.”
“Pathetic, right? I was nodding before the ball dropped.”
“Pathetic indeed. This from the guy who showed up completely tanked in my driveway at five in the morning one New Year’s, still raring to go.”
“Ah, that’s right,” Michael said slowly. “I believe I puked in your neighbor’s rosebush that night.”
“Hmm, nothing says nostalgia like vomit,” Lauren sighed as she pulled the comforter up over her legs, and Michael laughed.
It was moments like this that Lauren couldn’t comprehend how she had ever lived without his friendship. Jenn had asked Lauren at their monthly dinner two weeks earlier what it was worth, why she would ever want to be Michael’s friend again. And although Lauren didn’t give her an answer, she had done a lot of thinking since the night she spent at his house, and she knew what it was worth.
It was about redemption.
Everyone deserved the chance to be redeemed, and Michael had gone his whole life never having it. He never got to redeem himself with his father. He never got to redeem himself with his brother. And if he was trying to redeem himself now for what he’d done to her, then she was going to let him, even if it left her vulnerable.
Lauren knew she could handle herself. One of the things he’d taught her about herself was that she was much stronger than she thought. She didn’t have to be foolish. She didn’t have to love him again.
She knew those feelings had the potential to resurface, but wasn’t being aware of that enough to prevent it? There was no way it could sneak up on her; she knew what her downfall could be, and so she could consciously remain in control of it. So far, she had done a damn good job of keeping it just friendship. Jenn should have been proud of her.
“Well,” Michael sighed, “at least there was one benefit to me staying in tonight.”
“What’s that?”
“I was able to avoid the black ice.”
“Oh…my…God,” Lauren said, her voice breaking on the last word as she disintegrated into hysterical laughter. She was vaguely aware of Michael laughing on the other end, but she could barely hear him over her own.
Lauren curled forward, holding her stomach as she gasped for air.
“I take it you remember that,” Michael said with a smile in his voice, and Lauren nodded as she wiped the tears from her eyes, still laughing too hard to answer.
After a full minute passed with Lauren still unable to get control of herself, Michael sighed.
“Alright, alright, it wasn’t that funny.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Lauren said, still breathless as she wiped her eyes with her comforter. “I think I can safely say that it was, and always will be, one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.”
The night that Michael had shown up drunk on her driveway, he had woken her up by throwing twigs at her window. Lauren had thought it was an adorable gesture until she opened the window to find Michael barely able to stand.
“You missed New Year’s,” he had slurred. “Come down and party with me.”
“Michael, it’s five in the morning,” she hissed out her window. “And I think you’ve done enough partying.”
“Pshh,” he said, waving his hand at her. “Come on, Red. Come down and hang out with me.”
“I can’t,” she whispered, looking back into her room to make sure no one had heard the commotion and come to check on her.
Michael shrugged. “Suit yourself. Happy New Year!” he yelled, throwing his hands in the air and taking a dramatic bow before he turned and jogged sloppily down her driveway.
“Michael!” she whisper-yelled after him, noticing the precarious shine on the blacktop. “Watch out for the black ice!”
“Watch out for the black guys?” he called over his shoulder, the confusion in his voice mixed with drunken amusement. “What the hell is wrong with—” The words cut off as Michael’s legs soared out from under him, and Lauren watched as he flew into the air, his arms flailing at his sides before he landed flat on his back and glided a few feet until his legs were under her mother’s parked car.
Lauren hadn’t thought about that night in years, but now she couldn’t get the image out of her mind. Every time she thought she’d composed herself, she’d start laughing again.
“I don’t know what the best part of that story is: the epic fall you took, or the fact that you thought I was trying to warn you about black guys,” she said through her cackling.
Michael stifled a laugh. “You do realize I could have killed myself. It’s cruel of you to laugh.”
“Hey, I came running down to make sure you were okay, and double and triple-checked before I even let the first smile crack,” she said. “That was no easy feat, so I’ve earned the right to laugh freely now.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Michael said.
“You were so wasted. I can’t believe you even remember that.”
“Remember it? How could I not? You reminded me of it every chance you got for the next year of our lives.”
Lauren smiled as she laid back against her pillow, and the words were out of her mouth before she could think better of them.
“I really missed you.”
There was a beat of silence, and Lauren’s smile fell as her heart stopped. But before she could even curse herself for the slip-up, she heard him sigh, his words so soft that she wasn’t even sure they were meant for her ears.
“God…me too.”
December 2002
Lauren pulled into Michael’s driveway and cut the engine, trying to shake off the sudden sadness that had momentarily overtaken her excitement.
The entire drive to his house, she had been so eager to give him his Christmas present. Getting her hands on it had proved to be nearly impossible; she’d never tell him the lengths she went through to get it, or how much she ended up paying for it, but she could just imagine the look on his face that would make everything worth it.
But as she turned onto his road, her heart dropped slightly. Every house on the street was lit up, a myriad of blinking lights and giant blow-up Santas and twinkling artificial icicles.
Every house except his.
It was literally a blackened hole on a street full of color and festivity, its darkness somehow overpowering the brightness of all the others combined, and the thought of him coming home to this house night after night put an unpleasant heaviness in her chest.
Lauren exited her car, looking up at the dim light coming out of his window, and she smiled as the image of him opening his present made its way back into her mind. She turned and grabbed the bag, shutting the car door and jogging up the front steps to his house.
A long time ago, Michael had told her to just walk in when she came over. It had taken her forever to feel comfortable doing so, but eventually it just became routine. His mother was usually holed up in her bedroom, and on the rare occasions that she made an appearance, she would simply ignore Lauren anyway.
Lauren opened the front door, startled to see Mrs. Delaney sitting on the couch, staring straight ahead as she absently swirled a small glass of brown liquid in her hand.
There was no tree, no smell of Christmas dinner, not even a Christmas card displayed anywhere. And although Lauren had expected as much, there was the tiniest part of her that still hoped, that figured maybe decorating the outside of the house was too laborious for a woman, but the inside would be different.
She took a small, steadying breath. “Hi Mrs. Delaney,” she attempted softly.
The woman stared straight ahead as if Lauren hadn’t spoken.
Lauren bit her lip, dropping her eyes before she began walking past her toward the stairs.
“You seem like a smart girl.”
Lauren froze. It was the first time in two years the woman had acknowledged her at all, let alone spoken to her.
“Although I�
��m a terrible judge of character,” she added with a sardonic laugh.
Lauren turned toward her; she was staring down at the glass in her hand as she swirled it slowly.
“But if for once I’m right,” she said huskily, “you should stop coming around here.” She lifted her eyes then, looking at Lauren. “He’ll just ruin you.”
A loaded silence filled the space between them as Lauren stared at the woman before her, completely at a loss for words. She wanted so badly to be able to make sense of her, to find any ounce of humanity in those eyes that might belie the words that just left her lips.
But there was nothing.
And suddenly she felt a heat lighting in her stomach that made it hard for her to breathe.
How could a mother say that about her own son? What could he have ever possibly done to deserve that?
And why did he have to be stuck in this horrible house with her?
She could feel the heat building, spreading up through her chest and into the back of her throat, making her eyes sting.
Lauren had always prided herself on giving people the benefit of the doubt, on treating people with respect, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to do either for this woman.
“Your son,” she said slowly, giving due weight to every word, “is one of the best people I’ve ever known.” She inhaled a shaking breath. “And I feel sorry for you that you don’t know him.”
With that she turned and headed up the stairs, refusing to look back, even when she heard her mumble something about a stupid, naive girl.
By the time she reached Michael’s door, her hands were shaking. She stopped and closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath and trying to rid her expression of any remaining animosity before she opened the door.
He was lying on his bed, one hand behind his head and the other holding the remote, aimlessly flipping through the channels on his television.
When the door opened, he turned his head, smiling when he saw it was her.
“Hey Red,” he said, sitting up. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have family stuff going on?”
“Yeah,” she said, walking in and closing the door behind her. “But I just wanted to stop by and say Merry Christmas.”
Michael tossed the remote on the bed behind him. “You mean your holiday spirit wasn’t sucked right out of you the second you crossed over the threshold?”
Lauren forced a sad smile, dropping her eyes to the floor.
“We don’t really do Christmas here. Obviously.”
Lauren looked up. “Ever?” she asked, and Michael shrugged.
“Not since my brother died.”
“Oh,” Lauren said faintly. A beat of silence passed before she said, “Well, do you want to come over to my house?” Forever? she thought. More than ever, she just wanted to take him and run with him some place far away.
“Nah, that’s okay,” he said. His eyes dropped to the package in her hand. “What’s that?” he asked, quirking his brow as a tiny smile lifted the corner of his mouth.
At his expression, Lauren smiled her first genuine smile since she pulled into his driveway.
“Your present,” she said.
Michael grinned. “Didn’t I tell you not to get me anything?”
“Yes,” she said, crossing the room to sit on the bed beside him, “and by the expression on your face, I can tell you’re really broken up over the fact that I didn’t listen.”
Michael laughed, shifting to face her on the bed as she handed the bag to him.
He dug his hand in the bag like an eager child, and again, Lauren felt a heaviness in her chest as her eyes began to sting for him. She cleared her throat and pushed those feelings away, focusing on the moment.
He pulled the flat, rectangular box out of the bag, and immediately his jaw dropped.
“Get the fuck out of here,” he said in complete awe, tossing the bag on the floor and holding the box in two hands.
Lauren grinned, and he lifted his eyes to her, completely shocked. “Holy shit, are you kidding me?” he said, and she laughed.
“Do you like it?”
“Jesus Christ, Red, how did you get this?” he asked, turning the box over to read the back.
Lauren had never gotten into video games. Michael had tried a few times to show her how to play, but it was never her thing. But apparently this new game, Metroid Prime, was supposed to be amazing. It was the first 3D game in that series for GameCube, and also boasted a first-person adventure premise. It had gotten all sorts of amazing reviews before it was even released in November, making it essentially impossible to find during the holiday season.
“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” she lied.
He smirked at her and shook his head. “You are so full of shit.”
Lauren laughed. “I just had to betroth myself to some Arabian prince. Like I said, no big deal.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate. Totally worth it, but unfortunate,” he said, and Lauren leaned over and smacked his chest, causing him to laugh.
“This is…” he looked back at the box, shaking his head before he lifted his eyes to hers. “Whatever you had to do to get this, seriously…thank you.” He leaned over, pulling her into his chest as he hugged her, and Lauren closed her eyes.
“You’re welcome,” she said into his shirt.
Too soon, she felt him release her, and she sat back as he stood from the bed and walked to the other side of the room. She assumed he was going to put the game into his system, but he walked past the television and over to his closet, grabbing something off the top shelf.
When he turned back toward the bed, she could see it was a small square box wrapped in shiny green paper.
“Merry Christmas Red,” he said, tossing the box to her before he sat back down on the bed.
“You got me something? I thought you said—”
“I know what I said. Shut up and open it.”
Lauren looked up to see him motioning with his head toward the box in her hands, encouraging her.
She carefully peeled back the paper and pulled out a red, hinged box.
Inside was a necklace, made up of several tiny silver leaves connected with delicate vines, twirling and intertwining up to the clasp. The leaves were faceted so that the light shimmered off them in prisms, making them sparkle.
“Oh my gosh, this is so…pretty.” She brought her fingertip to one of the leaves, the movement causing it to glitter. “Is this ivy?” she asked, looking up at him.
Michael smiled. “We had to do a project in art. Some crap about symbolism in nature. I couldn’t come up with anything, so Miss Abramo assigned me ivy.” He shrugged. “It made me think of you.”
“What do you mean?” Lauren asked.
He shook his head. “Here,” he said, reaching for the box and pulling the necklace out. He opened the clasp and held it out, and Lauren leaned forward as he put it around her neck, closing it behind her.
Michael sat back, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “It looks good on you, Red.”
Her hand came to the necklace, holding it against her skin as she felt her cheeks get hot. “Thank you.”
They sat there in silence for a moment before Lauren looked down at her watch. “I should be getting back,” she said softly.
“Alright. Well, thanks for coming over. Give me a call tomorrow.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come back with me?” Lauren asked.
“No, I’m good. I got this,” he said, holding up the video game with a smile.
“Okay,” she said, standing from the bed, not wanting to leave him even though she knew she had to. “But if you decide you want to get out of here for a bit, just come over.”
“I will. Merry Christmas,” he said, hugging her once more, and she gave him one last squeeze before she grabbed her purse and headed back downstairs.
Thankfully, Michael’s mother was nowhere to be seen when she came back through the living room; Lauren didn’t know if she’d be ab
le to curb her tongue if they had another encounter, and the last thing she wanted to do was have it out with that woman.
She drove home in silence, one hand on the wheel and the other playing with the delicate silver vines at her throat.
As soon as she got back home, she bypassed the crowd of her family in the living room and ran upstairs, powering up her computer. And then she opened her search engine and typed in “ivy symbolism” before hitting enter.
Several sites came up as a result, and Lauren clicked on the first one and began reading.
Ever furrowing and intertwining, the ivy is an example of the twists and turns our lives often take, but because ivy has the propensity to interweave in its growth, it is also a testimony to the long-lasting connections we can form with others throughout our lives.
Lauren bit her lip, closing out of the website and clicking on the next one.
Ivy is a tribute to strong relationships because of its ability to grow and flourish, even in the most challenging environments. It seems to be virtually indestructible and will often return after it has suffered damage or has been severely cut back. Because the ivy is unbelievably durable and known to withstand harsh conditions, it represents incredibly loyal relationships and our ability to stand by those we care about, even in the toughest of situations.
Lauren’s breath left her in a soft rush, and she closed out of the website and clicked on one more. This one stated simply:
Ivy is symbolic of strong, lasting relationships that are guaranteed to stand the test of time.
With a smile on her lips, she dropped her head back on the chair and closed her eyes, trailing her fingertips over the necklace once more.
“I love you, Michael Delaney,” she breathed, and it felt so good to finally say it out loud, even if no one but her could hear it.
January 2012
Lauren sat at the stoplight, mentally running through the list of errands she still hoped to get done. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a day off during the week, and when she first woke up that morning, she didn’t know what to do with herself. Her new semester of classes didn’t start for another couple of days, so she literally had an entire day laid out before her like a blank canvas.
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