A Rhapsody Of Sorts

34- The Right Time

December 24, 2012.

There were presents under my tree. The large box wrapped in gold foil paper was from Mum. She'd gotten me a collection of bubble baths and body washes and candles for the past two Christmases. Most of them still sat untouched in a basket in the linen closet, but based on the sweet scents of lavender and lemongrass emanating from the box, she had decided to continue the tradition this year. Another gift was from Liam and Mae — a bottle of white wine with a slick silver bow tied around its neck. The last was from my little brothers. The plain medium-sized box was neatly wrapped and Pip had scrawled "—for Oli" in his best chicken scratch on the sparkly snowflake tag.

"Aren't you going to open those?" Liam asked as he dawdled in my front doorway with his hands tucked in his pockets.

"Nope." I shrugged on my pea coat and shoved him out the door, locking it behind me. "Let's go, I'm starving."

He rolled his eyes and stomped his feet but otherwise didn't put up a fight as I led us down the hall and took the stairs instead of the lift. As soon as we made it out the back exit, I tucked my sunglasses on over my eyes. It was cloudy and drab out, and the air smelled like snow, but I didn't want to risk any unwanted eye contact.

"What're you doing today, my little chimney?" Liam asked, bumping my shoulder as I took the first drag of my cigarette.

I turned my head away from him, careful not to exhale any smoke in his face.

"Nothing."

"But it's Christmas Eve," he protested.

I rolled my eyes. "Is it?"

"You've got to do something."

"I'm having breakfast with you, numpty," I joked but Liam wasn't dissuaded.

"What else are you—"

A car honked its horn and slammed on its brakes when I cut across the street in front of it. Liam swore, following after me and waving in apology at the irate driver as I hopped up onto the lip of the pavement on the other side of the road.

"Fucking hell, Rosie," he hissed when he caught up with me.

"Sorry," I breathed out in embarrassment. He was usually the one who walked without looking — the one who needed a hand to hold on the crosswalk. I didn't know where my head was lately other than hiding behind a cloud of smoke.

He shot me an annoyed look out of the corner of his eye, and we walked in silence the rest of the way. When we arrived at Eggs & Begs, I was only halfway through my second cigarette. Liam made me put it out in the ashtray, refusing to stand out in the cold for a second longer.

There was a wreath hanging in the front window, thick pieces of green garland strung along the antique chandeliers, and a two-for-one special on Irish coffee. One of our regular waitresses pointed us towards a table in the back. Shortly after, she brought Liam a coffee and me a screwdriver. Liam ordered his usual blueberry pancakes, but instead of getting strawberry French toast, I asked for something I'd been craving all week.

"You don't like chocolate chip pancakes," Liam chided as soon as our waitress finished scribbling down my request and hurried off to the kitchen.

"Yeah I do." I brought my screwdriver to my lips. "I wouldn't have ordered them if I didn't like them."

He sighed deeply but didn't argue. "Listen, I need a pep talk."

"I don't do pep talks."

"But I need one." He pouted and rested his elbow on the tabletop, dropping his chin in his palm.