by Ellen Jane
For the longest time, she didn’t realise she was in love with Jo. Jo was cool, and Lee desperately wanted to be like her, but those are normal things to think about the older sister of your best friend. It wasn’t until she graduated that Lee realised the butterflies in her stomach hinted at a different story.
After that, she spent months analysing every word, every gesture, every smile the two of them had shared, and concluded that she was an enormous idiot for not having noticed it sooner. Lee realised—with the benefit of hindsight—that for years she had wanted no one else. No matter how many dates she went on or how many girls she hooked up with, she couldn’t get Jo out of her head.
But no amount of personal insight will change the fact that Jo could never be interested in her. They might have grown up alongside each other, but Lee knows there are parts of her personality that some people consider too much, particularly people as calm and collected as Jo. She keeps those parts under wraps as best she can, which is only possible when you maintain a little distance. Relationships don’t work like that.
They reach the pub, warmth spilling out and surrounding them the second they open the doors. Inside, it is full of people, noise, and laughter. It doesn’t take them long to find a small corner to seclude themselves in, and Max disappears to fetch them drinks.
“So, you’re here for Christmas,” Lee says, taking off her navy coat and settling back into her armchair. “Max finally wore you down, did she?”
“Something like that,” Jo says, eyes a little intense in the dim light. She leans forward and props her elbows on her knees. “I just…” she pauses, staring into the distance before shaking her head and turning back to Lee. “Just felt I needed to be here, you know?”
“Sure,” Lee says, shrugging. “It’s Christmas. Makes you homesick and all that.”
Jo’s lips quirk into a smile, and Lee wonders if there is some joke she isn’t getting. “Yeah,” Jo agrees. “It does.” She pauses for a second, glancing over to where Max is still trying to get the bartender’s attention. The firelight flickers in her eyes as she turns back to Lee. “So, are you seeing anyone?”
Lee stiffens and forces herself to act natural. “Me? Nah.”
Jo’s mouth twitches. “What was all the stuff about your love fortune, then?”
Heat rises in Lee’s cheeks and she turns away, clearing her throat. “Nothing. Just Max being Max.”
“Yeah?” Jo’s voice sounds strange, but Lee can’t work out why. “Do you fancy someone or—”
Jo cuts off as Max rejoins them with three glasses of mulled wine and derails the conversation with all the grace of a toddler.
“So, let me get this straight,” Max says, shoving a glass into each of their hands. “You turn up with just days to spare, and you didn’t even tell us you were coming.”
“Hey, hey,” Jo says, holding up her hands. “I couldn’t leave work, all right? And even when I decided to come home, I nearly had to stay. Some moron tried to schedule her wedding right before Christmas without pre-booking. Took me two hours on the phone to convince her that literally no one, in any industry, would be available.”
Max pulls a face. “You’re planning weddings now?”
Jo shrugs. “Elise has always wanted to plan weddings, so we branched out in June. Or I guess it’s not branching out, it’s a sideways step or something, but I swear weddings are crazy. I’m already over it.”
“Elise isn’t?” Lee asks.
Jo rolls her eyes. “I’ll give you one guess. I’ve got to ride this one out until she breaks down from the stress, I’m afraid. Then we can rebuild from the ashes or something, I don’t know.”
“That’s only work, though,” Max insists. “And those are last-minute problems. Why didn’t you tell anyone you were coming?”
“Max, do you have any idea the nightmare I’ve been through to get here?” Jo lifts one eyebrow. “The flight cost more than the entire airplane, and it was nearly cancelled at the last second. I genuinely can’t believe I’m sitting here. Any second now, I’ll wake up to the phone ringing and it’ll be that bride telling me she’s going ahead with the Festive Season Wedding anyway and she’s booked a rotten boathouse down by the river for the reception.”
“Fine.” Max concedes defeat before giving her sister a smile. “I’m glad your home.”
Jo grins back, her whole face lighting up and making Lee’s heart skip a beat. “Me too.”
They fall into unhurried conversation, drifting back and forth on different topics as they catch up on the last six months since they were all together. It’s somewhere between the second and fifth drink that Lee connects the dots.
She is busy staring into Jo’s eyes, listening without really listening to the story of how Jo got kicked out of her third apartment for blasting punk rock three weeks in a row, when it hits her that this wasn’t meant to happen. Jo never intended to come home for the holidays, and even when she made her last-minute decision, she almost had to stay for work, and then her flight was almost cancelled. That she arrived home at all is a miracle.
Or very, very lucky.
Lee’s drunk brain scrambles to find a link, something that could have brought Jo home to her at the precise second she wished for it. Her mind makes a flying leap of correlation and causality, and lands on the matchbook.
Lee fumbles in her coat pocket and pulls the book out. There are six matches left inside, and before she knows what she’s doing, she is already taking one out. Neither of the other two are paying attention to her, so she shuts off the part of her brain that thinks this is ridiculous and strikes the match alight.
It bursts into flame, the light oddly mesmerising. The white head of the match still seems to sparkle, and Lee is sure it must be her imagination but the flame grows, tall and steady as an oil lamp.
She shifts focus, and Jo is staring at her through the flame, head tilted to the side. Sobriety crashes through her tipsy elation as she realises that even if this harebrained idea is accurate, she didn’t bloody wish for anything. Waste of a magic match.
Then Jo’s eyes meet hers, and Lee can feel it—a physical tug somewhere in her stomach, like a chord is connecting them and pulling them closer. Jo jolts forward, her eyebrows shooting up as she stares down at her navel. In the background, Max keeps talking, oblivious.
Lee’s mouth falls open, and she doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to explain what is happening, not even to herself—least of all to Jo. But before she has to, a sound like metal grinding on metal screeches around them, and Lee has a half-second to react, leaping out of her seat and onto the ground before the light fixture crashes down on top of her.
The room erupts in chaos. Several people are screaming, and babies Lee didn’t know were here are now announcing their presence at an earsplitting volume. She tunes into the sound of someone speaking beside her ear, and it’s only after a few minutes that she recognises Jo’s voice. She blinks and refocuses on the face in front of her: Max.
Max sighs with relief and slumps back on the floor. “Jesus, man, I thought you had a concussion. Did it get you? It was so quick I couldn’t tell.”
Lee winces. “It was quick, but I was quicker.” She manages some cheesy finger guns and a weak smile before struggling to her feet.
Jo steadies her by the shoulders and guides her to a chair next to the fire. “Here, take it easy for a sec.”
Her hand lingers while Lee sits, even though it’s no longer necessary. It’s warm and grounding. Lee’s heart flutters, and she looks away before she does something stupid; Jo is only being a good friend.
Behind them, the pub staff are inspecting the light fixture and muttering amongst themselves. Their eyes are wide, faces pale as they try to make sense of the disaster. Guilt floods through Lee. It’s not their fault; it’s hers.
She allows the scene to fade into background noise while Max and Jo take care of the details, assuring the staff that the falling light didn’t hurt anyone and providing their contact n
umbers in case anyone needs to follow up. Lee’s fingertips have gone numb apart from a dull tingling sensation, and she suspects reality might not have set in yet. She hopes she’s alone when it does. Lee has always been more reactive than her two closest friends, always one step closer to hysterics. She hides it well, but there’s nothing like a near KO experience to make her lose her tentative sense of control.
“Come on, babe, let’s get you home.” Jo appears in Lee’s field of vision again, brown eyes dark and soft with concern.
Max shoves an open bar of chocolate in her hand, courtesy of the worried staff at the pub, and they make their way outside. As Lee focuses on the sweetness of the sugar, the shaking and lingering agitation fades.
“All right.” She stops walking and holds her hands up, giving them both a firm nod. “I’m good.”
The wind whips around them, sending the last of the numbness away.
Jo studies her. “You’ve got colour again.”
She lifts a hand to Lee’s cheek and brushes her skin with the back of her fingers. They’re still warm from the fireplace, even though she hasn’t put her gloves back on. Lee stiffens and tries not to lean into the touch.
Max claps her hands together. “Right, now that’s over. Are you coming home for dinner, Jo?”
“Not tonight. I should head to the hotel and unpack properly. How about tomorrow?”
She leans in and gives Max a kiss on the cheek. Lee opens her arms for their usual hug, but when Jo looks at her, there is something strange in her expression. Jo steps into the embrace, sliding her hands around Lee’s waist and drawing her close before planting a soft kiss on her cheek.
Lee’s breath hitches. They don’t normally kiss in greeting, and when they do, it isn’t like this. It doesn’t usually linger.
“Later,” Jo murmurs into Lee’s ear, her voice breathy and a note deeper than usual.
Lee swallows and fights her way back down to earth. “Later,” she says, and then Jo is gone.
Three
Later that night, when Lee is home in bed, she can’t stop reliving the moment the chandelier shattered. She isn’t drunk anymore, but she is still certain the matches are magic. She didn’t imagine the tugging in her chest, and the confusion and surprise on Jo’s face makes her certain Jo noticed it too.
But then the light fixture fell, nearly clobbering her to death, and she knows it was because of the match as well. Now Lee is left questioning whether something is wrong with her or with the magic. Knowing her luck, it’s both.
She stares at the ceiling, mulling over what Rebecca told her at the market. She warned Lee about this, said something was blocking her luck. What had she told Lee to do? Something about mirrors, responsibility and acceptance. All of which are lovely abstract terms that mean precisely nothing to Lee and her tangible book of magical matches.
Her phone buzzes, and she rolls over to pick it up from the nightstand. There’s a message from Jo, and a familiar tingle blooms through her body at the sight.
So, I was lying a little before. There is a reason I came back.
Lee’s heart flutters, and her imagination runs wild with how loaded that statement sounds.
Oh? She sends back.
Yeah.
Jo can’t possibly mean what Lee thinks she means, but Lee can’t help hoping. Mariah Carey is on loop in her head, and she can even forgive the cheesiness of her subconscious if this turns out to be real. Her mouth is dry as she watches Jo type, and her fingers are clenched so tightly around the phone it hurts.
I’m here to do some research… Wanna help me out? You can’t tell Max.
Lee’s heart sinks; so much for Christmas miracles. She sighs and sends back, Do I at least get to blackmail you with it?
Hahaha, sure thing. What do you want in return? ;)
Despite her disappointment, Lee grins like a tool at the message. It feels like flirting.
How about you owe me one?
Jo sees it immediately but doesn’t answer for several seconds. Finally, she sends, Keeping me on my toes. I like it. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at nine?
Sure. You gonna tell me where we’re going?
Nope.
Lee laughs at the screen as Jo types again.
Night x
Her chest squeezes tight with an emotion she doesn’t want to name, and she puts down the phone before she can say something stupid.
It is no longer snowing, and outside her window, the moon shines steady white light across the street. Her room is eerily quiet, but Lee’s mind is no longer unsettled. She lies on her side and watches the moonlight glinting off the snow that still lingers on her neighbours’ rooftops. It will be Christmas soon, and if there’s any time of year when she deserves a little extra luck, it’s at Christmas, right?
Maybe it will all work out. She just has to make sure she isn’t standing under a light fitting next time she strikes a match.
✽ ✽ ✽
Jo is already waiting in the kitchen by the time Lee makes it downstairs at eight.
“I forgot you had a key,” Lee mumbles, scrubbing her hair with her hands. “Didn’t we say nine?”
“Sure, but I knew you’d drag your arse if I wasn’t here to help,” Jo says, handing Lee a coffee in a ceramic travel mug with golden reindeers printed on the side.
Lee takes the mug and tries not to notice how awake Jo is; it’s already exhausting, and that’s without acknowledging the golden eyeshadow and winged eyeliner that is far too perfect for this early in the morning.
“Thank you,” she says, though it comes out more like a muffled curse.
“And mpphff to you too,” Jo says, hoisting herself up onto the kitchen counter and swinging her legs. “Max not up yet?”
“What do you think?”
“Lunch isn’t ready, so I’m guessing that’s a big fat no.”
“Ding, ding, ding,” Lee says, closing her eyes and flopping backwards into the nearest chair. “Where are we going? Do I need make up?”
“You never need make up, babe.”
Lee’s eyes snap open in time to see Jo looking at her with a strange, soft expression. Before Lee can answer, Jo keeps talking.
“No one needs make up.” She clears her throat and looks away. “Aesthetic adornments are a choice, not a necessity.”
“Down with the patriarchy,” Lee mumbles in agreement, ignoring the rising heat in her cheeks and lifting her fist in a half-hearted symbol of solidarity and revolution.
“Right on.”
“No, but seriously, where are we going?”
Jo grins. “Throw on some pants and we’ll find out.”
Lee looks down at her boxers. They’re bright red and covered in tiny golden Snitches. “You mean I can’t wear these in public?”
“Well I won’t stop you, but you’ll be cold.”
Lee cedes the point and runs back upstairs to get changed. She can hear Max snoring from the other room, her alarm clock chiming in time with the snores. The alarm will stop soon, or Max will turn it off in her sleep, and there’ll only be about five more alarms between now and the time Max gets up. Lee doesn’t know what a lie in is anymore unless it’s interspersed with artificial roosters crowing at thirty-minute intervals.
She throws on a white cable-knit jumper over white jeans and hunts down her coat. The outfit makes her long, red hair shine like fire. When she turns to the mirror, she is standing differently—taller, like she isn’t afraid to take up more space. Soft footsteps come from behind her, and when she glances over her shoulder, she sees Jo leaning in the doorway. Lee becomes hyper aware of both the study mess that sprawls across her desk and the tragically hipster art on the walls. There are fairy lights above her bed.
She winces; ‘cool’ is not in her vocabulary, whereas Jo radiates it.
Jo grins, looking around at everything. “Your room’s changed.”
“Yeah,” Lee says, running a hand along the back of her neck. “It was a bit bare before, so I decorated.”
&nb
sp; “It’s very you,” Jo says, and there’s something in her voice, something warm that sends tingles up Lee’s spine. “I like it.”
Lee finds her coat caught up in her blankets at the end of her bed. She shrugs it on, retrieves her reindeer travel mug from the desk, and nods to Jo. “Let’s go.”
Max is still snoring as they leave, the sound punctuated this time by a series of frogs croaking. Jo rolls her eyes and leads the way to the car outside.
“Please tell me she doesn’t snore like this every night. I thought she grew out of that.”
“Every goddamn night,” Lee agrees, letting herself into the passenger side.
“Yikes. Does it piss off your other flatmate?”
They share the three bedroom terraced house with a guy from Lee’s university, Gerald. Gerald is a philosophy major whose entire life goal centres on self improvement, whatever the cost.
“He worries it’s a red flag for sleep apnea,” Lee says as Jo turns up the stereo, AC DC blasting. “And that her chi is mis-aligned. He offered to guide her through a three-stage meditation when he gets back from his holiday retreat. I think she’s pretty excited about it, actually.”
“Holiday retreat?” Jo looks dubious.
“Monastery in Thailand.”
“Dope.”
Lee grins. “He keeps a blog if you want to follow it.”
“You’re allowed to blog in monasteries?” Jo’s eyebrows lift towards her hairline. “Either way, hard pass.”
“It’s actually pretty entertaining. He’s a cool guy, if you ever meet him.”
Jo grins at her. “If you and Max like him, that’s good enough for me.”
The music and coffee are doing wonders to banish the final remnants of sleep from Lee’s head, and she comes to the slow realisation that she is sitting in a car with Jo, alone. Lee shifts in her seat, trying not to fidget.
“So what’s the destination of this super secret mission, anyway?”