by Marian Snowe
“Thanks,” Tia replied. “I never win anything, so I was shocked.” She fished the tickets out of the envelope. “Ice skating, huh?”
Meg made sure her expression was neutral. If Tia had been doing all this because she felt obligated, like she owed it to Meg (which she did, Meg added to herself), she would probably think she’d already done quite a lot. Meg didn’t want to order her or guilt her into to inviting her ice skating.
What she wanted was for Tia to ask her of her own volition.
“You probably like ice skating, right?” Tia asked. She looked nervous.
Meg sighed softly, then smiled. “Yeah, of course! And you don’t,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
Tia looked away and cleared her throat. “Yeah, I don’t know. I haven’t gone since I was a kid, so.” She frowned down at the tickets and then lifted them to hand them to Meg. “They might as well not go to waste,” Tia said.
Meg’s shoulders drooped and she reached out for the tickets.
Then, she said, “We’ll find someone else to give them to” at the same time that Tia said, “Want to go with me?”
They both stared at each other. Around them, the community center was filled with laughter and conversations, but Meg felt like they’d both stepped into a silent, private bubble. A snow globe, her ridiculously sappy brain corrected.
Tia’s face was bright red. She shook her head and pulled the tickets back, although Meg hadn’t touched them yet. “Wait, do you not...? We can just give them to somebody else, yeah,” she backtracked quickly.
Meg snatched the tickets from her hand. “Yes, I want to go with you!” she said in a rush. “Like you said, it would be a shame to waste them.”
A tiny smile crossed Tia’s face and she looked down into her lap. “You’re corrupting me with your love of this Christmassy junk.”
Meg punched the air, startling the old man sitting on the other side of her. “My nefarious plans are coming to fruition!”
“I can see the headlines now,” Tia added, spreading her hands as if reading a newspaper. “‘Evil Genius Forces People to Enjoy Themselves.’”
Meg giggled. “If that’s how I go down in history, I’m not going to cry about it.”
“How about tomorrow?” Tia asked after a moment, shrugging one shoulder. Meg bit her lip to hide a smile. That’s exactly how Tia used to act when she felt self-conscious but wanted to seem casual. It felt so familiar and comfortable, like a beloved sweater you rediscovered in your closet that still fit after so many years.
“Christmas Eve? Well, I don’t have any other plans, so might as well,” Meg teased. She sat back in her chair with a satisfied sigh.
Was it wrong to feel giddy at the thought of a romantic ice-skating date with the woman who broke your heart? If it was, Meg didn’t care.
---
The ice-skating rink was done up to the nines with holiday splendor. Strings of white, green, and red lights hung along the fence that circled the ice and clear white bulbs shone on lines crisscrossing above. Several floodlights made it easy to see the ice but didn’t take away from the magical atmosphere. Every pole was striped with ribbons and hung with wreathes or pine bough arrangements.
Meg sat beside Tia on a bench outside of the rink, lacing up her skates. “Has it really been that long since you ice skated?” she asked Tia.
“Yeah. I’m sure there were a bunch of rinks in Hartford that I could’ve gone to if I wanted, but I just never thought about it. I didn’t have anybody around to convince me it wouldn’t be a waste of time.” She looked over at Meg with a slightly sheepish smile.
“You would’ve said no anyway,” Meg replied, jokingly resentful.
Tia shrugged and rolled her eyes in agreement. “Probably.”
“Does this mean you don’t remember how to skate?” Meg asked.
Tia made a reluctant sound. “Maybe? I hope I do. I’ll look like a first-class idiot otherwise.”
Meg gazed out over the rink, where a man had just wiped out on the ice. He and a little kid in a red snowsuit were both laughing. “You won’t be alone, at least,” Meg said. “This isn’t an Olympic arena.”
“Thank goodness.”
The two of them clomped across rubber mats and over to the rink’s entrance. Meg slid onto the ice with a good amount of grace, but Tia wobbled quite a bit and Meg circled back around to join her.
“Just take it slow,” Meg said. “You can hang onto the railing if you want.”
“With the other five-year-olds,” Tia muttered.
“No, the five-year-olds are zipping around like little hotrods. You only wish you could skate like them.” Meg grinned at her. “Come on, I’ll go slow with you. Just keep your weight forward so if you fall, you don’t fall backwards and hit your head.”
“A concussion is just what I need to make my Christmas complete.” Tia took her advice, though, and soon they were slowly making circuits around the rink. The lights shone on the ice, highlighting the curving lines and cuts from other people’s skates.
Just past one of the decorated poles, one of those cuts caught the tip of Tia’s skate and she pitched forward, stumbling to keep her feet. Meg grabbed her elbow with both hands and steadied her, and Tia met her eyes with warm, tentative gratitude.
“Us, one; potential concussion, zero,” Meg said with a smile.
“Us, one,” Tia echoed. It seemed like she didn’t even realize she’d said it.
Meg drew in a strengthening breath. Would Tia freak out if she did this? There was only one way to know, so Meg slid her hand down Tia’s arm to cup her mittened fingers. Tia didn’t pull away; she just gazed down at their hands, wrapped together, and back up to Meg’s eyes.
Meg smiled, just a little. It wasn’t a cheerful, “this is normal” sort of smile. It was a meaningful one, one that acknowledged hard things. It was one that held a fire deep inside it, and Meg wasn’t sure about anything except that that fire was burning hotter every minute.
She could scarcely admit it to herself, but ever since the moment they came face to face, she’d wanted to kiss Tia. To hold her. To run her fingers over Tia’s warm skin and, well...do lots of things. But what were the chances of that now?
Tia let Meg keep her hand, and Meg felt a tiny bit more optimistic. They went on skating, around and around. The lights sparkled and the chilly air brushed at Meg’s cheeks and stung her ears, but she was warmed from within.
Every so often, she caught Tia looking at her. Tia would always avert her eyes quickly, but Meg’s heart stirred, every part of her stirred, when she saw the expression of yearning on Tia’s face. It was one of the times that she looked up to see Tia gazing her way when Tia tripped again.
Meg reached for her and this time Tia couldn’t keep her feet. She fell onto Meg’s chest, straight into her arms, and Meg swerved toward her to keep them both upright. She held Tia around the waist, and a full-body shiver went over her. It had been so long, so long, and it felt like falling into your own bed after sleeping on the ground for a month.
Tia just fit. They locked together like they were crafted to be that way. Tia was warm, and she smelled like snow and hot cocoa and pine. Meg wanted to bury her face in Tia’s hair.
But Tia backed up, her body stiff, and drew her arms away. The cold hit Meg like a truck.
“I’m sorry,” Tia said quickly. “You don’t have to... You can just let me fall; I’ll be fine. Having me all over you must be so uncomfortable for you after everything that’s happened.”
Meg was silent for a moment. Her mouth flattened into a decisive line, and then she put her hands on Tia’s shoulders. Tia blinked at her.
“Look,” Meg said. She thought carefully about her words before she said them, but they swelled in her throat to come out. “Neither of us know how to do this. It’s uncharted territory. Yeah, our past is complicated. But does it look like I’m pushing you away?” She searched Tia’s eyes. “I never imagined this would happen. That we’d find each other again. You’ve shown me
you’re sorry. Am I still hurt? Of course I am. Maybe that’ll never change. All I know is that I missed you more than I’ve ever missed anything, and now you’re here again. I don’t want to miss anything else if I don’t have to.”
Tia’s eyes widened and her mouth opened. She let out a weak breath like she’d been holding it in without realizing. Her gaze roved over Meg’s face, as if she wanted some kind of confirmation that she wasn’t imagining all this. All of a sudden, tears brimmed in her eyes.
That’s when Meg kissed her.
It was like time collided, like “then” and “now” crashed together in an impossible tangle. Tia’s lips were as soft and pillowy as Meg remembered, but they had a new, burning taste that intoxicated her. She wrapped her arms around Tia’s neck and the motion pushed them both right up against the sideboards of the rink. Tia enveloped her in a tight embrace, drawing her up onto the tips of her skates.
Their mouths fit together just as well as their bodies did, and their kiss was long and deep and sweet. Meg felt like they were melting together, their breath intertwined, their heartbeats together keeping them both alive.
The memory of those lips and these kisses had haunted Meg for years. She dreamed about them at night, and during the day her mind would float off to think of them. She never thought she’d touch Tia’s lips again, and now, here they were, locked together. They kissed and nipped and tasted, maybe far too fervently for public. But neither of them could stop.
The night air felt invigorating rather than cold when Meg finally lifted her lips from Tia’s. The lights shone brighter. A tremendous happiness began to build inside her chest.
Tia rested her forehead against Meg’s. Her words came out like they’d been blocked up inside her and now she couldn’t stop them. “But I’ve messed so much up, Meg. I put both of us through so much needless pain. And we don't even know each other anymore. After what I did, how can we pick up where we left off?"
Meg exhaled a little laugh. “We can’t pick up where we left off,” she replied. “That’s just it. We’re not the same people we were then.” She pulled her mittens off and pressed her hands to Tia’s cold cheeks, directing Tia’s eyes straight to hers. “And maybe it will work or maybe it won’t. But we still have that spark. I can feel it. Can’t you?”
Tia didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Every minute we’re together.”
“Then we can start here. We can see if we still click. We’ve had years and years to get rid of the teenage stupidity that messed everything up back then.”
The cautious smile on Tia’s face was almost a wince. “Well, some of it.” She grimaced. “I don’t want to set false expectations.”
Meg just laughed and leaned in again for another kiss. “So we won’t have any. I’m okay with that. How about you?”
“I’ll take it.” Tia kissed her in return, their lips lingering together.
“Hey,” Meg said, giving her that secret smile she’d missed so much. “Happy birthday.”
Tia straightened up in surprise. “Holy shit, I forgot!” She laughed and looked up into the night sky. A few snowflakes were beginning to swirl down toward them. Then she leaned forward and gave Meg another soft, sweet kiss. “Pretty sure this is going to be the best birthday I’ve had in years.”
“It’s already turning out to be my best Christmas,” Meg replied with a smile. Tia laughed gently and then wobbled on her skates, and Meg tightened her grip on Tia’s shoulders. “Maybe we need that hot drink now before our luck runs out and you do get a concussion,” she teased. “I don’t want you forgetting all this.”
“Me either,” Tia replied softly. She took Meg’s hand as they skated slowly toward the entrance of the rink. She was silent for a few moments, but then she spoke again, shyly. “So... It’s Christmas Eve. Spruce is already at my house since we made the lasagna today. Do you want to stay over?” As soon as she said it, she lifted the hand that Meg wasn’t holding and waved it in a “don’t get me wrong” gesture. “I’m not expecting anything! Just...company. Somebody in the house. I haven’t looked forward to Christmas morning for as long as I can remember, but maybe this time...”
Meg’s slow smile was just as bright as the lights that sparkled around them. “This time, we’ll make it something worth waiting for.”
Chapter Eleven
Tia
Feathers of ice covered the windows of Tia’s farmhouse on Christmas morning. The sun filtered in through them, lighting the living room with a dappled golden glow. There were only a few presents under the tree, and most of them were marked “Spruce.”
Tia and Meg sat on the rug in front of the fireplace, where a small log burned and crackled cozily. Tia had turned some Christmas music on but it was drowned out by the rustling and crinkling of a kitten playing in discarded wrapping paper. Spruce rolled around and chased ribbons like they were snakes threatening his humans.
“You first, or me?” Meg asked, reaching out for the two presents with her name on them.
“You,” Tia said. She pointed to one. “That one first.” Her stomach shivered with nerves, in spite of how ridiculous that was. The present itself was plenty ridiculous too, and even though she knew Meg would like it, it was still...well, embarrassing.
Meg snatched up the package, which was a flattish, soft square. She squished it with her hands experimentally.
“Just open it, already!” Tia laughed.
“Okay, okay!” Meg jokingly stuck her tongue out and pulled off the ribbon. “No trying to get Christmas morning over faster than it has to be!”
She squinted in confusion when she tore off the paper to reveal pom-poms and tiny lights sewn onto cloth. Then her mouth dropped open and she pulled out the two sweaters she’d threatened Tia with back at Christmas Wishes that day.
“You didn’t!” she shouted.
Tia covered her face, laughing. “I did. I can’t believe I did! What have you done to me?”
“Taught you to have fun, that’s what!” Meg tossed the one with the pom-poms over to Tia and shimmied on the one with the Santa face with lights in its beard. She found the little battery pack attached to the side seam and switched it on, and the lights started blinking in a cheerful pattern. Meg cackled.
“I guess it’s a hit, then?” Tia asked. Meg nodded adamantly and shot a significant look at the sweater in Tia’s lap. Tia put it on with a good-natured whine. It wasn’t all that bad, actually. Warm and soft. “Okay, next one,” she said, reaching for the other present. It was large and lumpy, and she held it by the bottom when she handed it to Meg as if she was afraid it’d break through the paper.
Meg took it into her lap and unwrapped it. She tilted her head; inside was a box of Eggo waffles, a bottle of chocolate syrup, some bananas, and various packages of marshmallows and other candy.
“Awww,” Meg cried, looking up at Tia with a sappy grin. Tia folded her arms and tried to play off Meg’s reaction, but she was blushing.
“It’s Sunday today,” Tia said. “So, maybe, since we’ve got all these supplies... You might want to stay for dinner? We could make it another idiotic Christmas tradition.” She offered a crooked smile that quickly turned bashful. “Assuming things work out. I mean, we’ll see how it all goes.”
“I’ll definitely stay today,” Meg replied. She held her hands over her heart, touched, and Tia blushed even harder. “As for next Christmas? It’s looking good.” She stacked the waffles and their toppings beside her and got up. The present with Tia’s name was tall and messily wrapped, and she dragged it over beside where Tia was sitting.
“Dare I ask what this is?” Tia said with a curious smile. She tore a strip of paper off and revealed something that made her brow furrow in surprise: carpeting.
Unwrapping it the rest of the way, she saw that it was a cat tree with three levels and a circular wicker basket hanging between them. She looked up at Meg with a lifted eyebrow.
“I could’ve sworn my name was on this, not Spruce’s.”
Meg grinned. “I gue
ss it is technically for him. But maybe I’m also offering a kitten with the cat tree?” When Tia inhaled with surprise, Meg continued quickly, “I’m not giving him up. I want Spruce to be able to come over here and live while I look for an apartment in town.”
“You’re...moving back here?” Tia’s eyes lit up with a tentative hope. Could this really be happening? Did they truly have a chance? Even after what Meg said last night, Tia couldn’t help but think it might all be a delusion.
Meg nodded. Her expression was gentle. “I’m tired of trying to scrape by as an actress. It’s been hard getting roles at my age, just hoping somebody likes my looks enough to give me a chance. Besides, I think I might have a future here.”
“No kidding?” Tia asked softly. One corner of her mouth pulled up.
“Just a feeling,” Meg replied. She slid closer, taking a long look at Tia’s lips before raising her eyes so their gazes met again.
“Funny, that. I have a feeling too.”
Meg reached up and playfully tapped Tia’s nose with her finger. “I’d like to know what kind of ‘feeling’ I can expect today.” She wagged her eyebrows and Tia snickered. “We can figure out a kitty schedule later. Maybe we’ll each have Spruce on alternate weeks or something.”
“Like joint custody?” Tia laughed.
Meg traced her finger along Tia’s jaw and then stopped beneath her chin. “It’s a commitment I’m willing to make.” She lifted Tia’s face and they pressed their lips together. Tia drew herself closer and flattened her hand on Meg’s thigh, gripping the firm flesh beneath Meg’s pajama pants. She slid her hand up to Meg’s hip and down again.
“I want to devour you,” Tia said in a low, husky voice.
Meg laughed out a little breath and pressed Tia down onto the carpet. Tia went from her elbows to her back in the pile of wrapping paper. She ran her fingers up through Meg’s hair and drew her down on top of her.
With every breath, more and more desire pulsed through Tia’s body. She’d been denied Meg’s kisses and her touch for so many years, and now she couldn’t keep from pushing herself deeper. Meg was doing the same, now with her knees on either side of Tia’s hips and her forearms resting on the floor above Tia’s shoulders. They kissed over and over, burning for each other.