the girl in red

xv. happy holidays

Monday, December 22nd, 1975

Lafayette, Indiana

The dream of a "white Christmas" had taken over the town, the snow piling on the edges of the road and lining the trees all around the houses.  The sun was unusually gentle, too, and its rays were laced with pure gold that was pulled from the heavens.  That same gold swarmed Dimitra's room, making the green look more yellow than sage and brightening the harsh shadows in the corners.  Dimitra basked in the glow as she changed, pulling on a pair of blue jeans.  She slipped a black leather belt through the loops but left it undone as she pulled a red shirt over her head and tucked it into her jeans.  A design was printed onto the front, as was text wishing a happy holiday.  Judith had thrown it at her a few days ago and had told her she had to wear it at least one day that week, so she did.

She grabbed her coat off the hook and slipped it on, zipping it up halfway.  Her socks followed soon after, a thick cotton pair that Judith had sewn a while ago.  Her hair was released from its too-tight ponytail and she grabbed her wallet off the nightstand.  It was newly filled from a farm job yesterday that Dima had dragged her and Maxim to.  Her legs were still dead, but the money was worth it.

Dima walked by her as she stepped out of her room and she nodded at him before disappearing downstairs.  Only Judith was downstairs, moving around the kitchen as she baked cookies and sweets for Christmas.

"Hey, hon," Judith greeted as she wiped her flour-covered hands on a red and green towel.

"Hey.  I was thinking of heading to the store," Dimitra said, stopping at the end of the stairs and leaning over the railing.

"For what?"

"Gifts, I guess."

Judith looked up at her and smiled before she blew a piece of hair from in front of her eye.  "You can go.  Just make sure not to be gone too long 'else imma start worrying."

Dimitra offered a thumb's-up and walked around the railing to the front door.  Her boots already sat by the door on top of a pile of other shoes, most of them muddy and tattered.  She slipped them on and pulled the hems of her jeans over the tops before she unlocked the door and pulled it open.  A gust of cold air hit her face and she grinned.  The concrete was dark from the snow and she skipped down the steps, kicking bits of snow as she did.  She pulled her hood over her head and brought her hair in front of her shoulder once she'd reached the end of the driveway, quieting the world around her.

She checked for cars before she jogged across the street, narrowly missing a patch of ice on the road.  The store was only a few minutes walk away, but sometimes it felt like years, and sometimes it felt like seconds.  There was no middle ground, either.  No happy medium.  She liked when it felt short, and it did that day.  It seemed as if in two seconds she was pulling open the glass doors and stepping onto white tile floors that were covered in dirt.  Sheryl's was a small shop, a gas station stop without gas pumps.  The walls were pastel yellow and striped with brown right below the ceiling, which was a soft white.  Some Ella Fitzgerald song crackled through the speakers and covered the sound of footsteps.  Only a few people worked there, and all of them were middle-aged women with smiles as warm as hot chocolate or twenty-year-old hippies with eyes as bright as the sun.

Dimitra loved both demographics dearly.  They'd been nothing but welcoming every time she'd stepped inside, and too many times had they paid for her when she was missing that extra dollar.  Each and every worker constantly emphasized that no one should go hungry or cold, whether they were missing one dollar or five.