The next two weeks were hell on earth. Though Roseanne and Lisa never spoke about the possibility of a move, it loomed over them like an elephant in the room, taking all of the space until they couldn't breathe. Still Roseanne preferred the silence... for now. The silence meant she could put Louisville out of her mind until after Christmas at least. Hilary wouldn't return before the season was over, Louisville didn't need an answer yet, there was no point in worrying now.
It wasn't that she was avoiding thinking about it as much as it was that she had other things to deal with just then, other screw-ups that she had tripped and fallen into. She and Lisa were constantly fighting for the first time. They had started with a fight about Luke's haircut, not because Roseanne was upset that Lisa had taken him without asking her, but – she didn't know. She had been upset about another thing bought on Lisa's dime, and she had been unable to back down. Lisa had met her with equal anger because, despite the many years Lisa had been living in the loft, she had never invited her mother over on purpose. Lisa was a snapping, biting storm cloud of anger, made worse by the soft hint of frost in her eyes from Roseanne's indecision and her own sour mood.
That first fight had dissolved into petty bickering about unimportant things until Roseanne's stress was paramount and Lisa looked like she was going to explode.
Once her anger had passed, Roseanne begged Lisa to simply cancel with Jacqueline, to let her cancel for her, but Lisa, ever stubborn, insisted that it would be much worse to cancel than to go through with the plans now.
In short, Roseanne was in the doghouse. While she hated the fact that Lisa had grown distant, she forced herself to handle it for one reason.
Every day was another day gone; every day was another day closer to Christmas.
The calendar on her phone had become her favorite commodity.
Twenty-five days until the surgery, fourteen until she could tell her.
Twenty days until the surgery, nine until she could tell her.
Fifteen days until the surgery, four until she could tell her.
The closer the date got, the more Roseanne was able to put Louisville out of her mind.
Roseanne had begun to picture it whenever she had an idle moment. In her mind's eye, she saw herself holding Lisa's hand, her girlfriend uncharacteristically nervous while the doctor prepared to turn on the device. She watched the beautiful face as she anxiously waited for a sound, to hear for the first time since that little pop all of those years ago.
Would Lisa be one to cry like in the videos she had been obsessively, albeit secretly, watching, or would she be one of the people who simply looked surprised and a little afraid? Would she remember what the sounds she was hearing meant, or would Roseanne and Luke need to teach her again?
Often when she got to that question, another would drift up from the back of her mind, making Roseanne's stomach cramp.
Would she and Luke still be around by then to teach her, or would that job fall to Charlie?
She didn't know, and it didn't matter in the end, not as long as Lisa was happy. Roseanne could hardly breathe she was so excited.
Unfortunately, she couldn't relieve Lisa's tension with the promise of her secret gift. In preparation for Jacqueline, they had spent hours at every organic boutique in town for every tiny part of the Christmas meal that Roseanne had promised not to help cook. Instead, she was the pack mule, silently and with an air of penitence, carrying the bags up to the loft, dragging the fancy china from the storage locker in the basement, and enduring all of the paper cuts that came with wrapping the presents to put them under the tree.
She did everything possible to help while seeming as contrite as she could. It seemed to help. Lisa, though hesitant and removed, was slowly growing less abrasive until finally, the morning of Christmas Eve dawned bright and snowy. Despite the looming visit on Christmas day, nothing but smiles could be seen in the Manoban loft.
"I hate this part of my job!" Roseanne whined as she yet again looked longingly at the cooling spot next to Lisa in bed.
"What part?" Lisa asked, yawning from the sheets.
"This part," Roseanne sighed, taking in Lisa's tousled morning hair and sleepy eyes. "The part where I have to get up and go play for people on Christmas Eve while you and my son get to hang out in your pajamas, eat cookies, and watch Christmas specials. I know that Charlie Brown is on today, and I bet you guys are going to watch it without me!"
Lisa's lips twitched in the corners as she stretched out, propping herself up so that Roseanne had to do a double take. "But I thought you were looking forward to this concert."
"I was!" she whined again, glad that Lisa couldn't hear her childish tone. She laughed to herself when she realized that soon she would have to stop doing things like that. "But then I had to get out of bed." She finished doing the last few buttons on her dress shirt.
Lisa made a mocking sad face and spread her arms, temping Roseanne back to the warm blankets.
It was hard to resist, knowing that Lisa's skin would smell warm and sleepy, that it would taste like morning under her lips.
Lisa's eyebrow popped and with a smirk and a muttered curse, Roseanne gave in. Fully dressed, she crawled over Lisa.
"I'm beginning to notice a routine here."
"A routine?" she asked, letting her lips trail over Lisa's angled jaw.
"In which you prefer not to leave."
"Can you blame me?"
"Hmm? My neck can't understand you, darling."
Roseanne rolled her eyes, pulling her lips away from Lisa's skin so that she could say, "I don't mind leaving so much when this is what I get to come back to."
Lisa sighed, her chuckle low and deep in her throat as her head fell back to the pillows, watching Roseanne with hooded eyes.
Roseanne bit the side of her lip, let her hands slide upwards slowly, savoring Lisa's thighs, her stomach, her breasts, her arms, and then back down.
Lisa's mouth puckered into a small O.
Roseanne considered moving forward, taking her once quickly before she had to go, but no, the clock told her she didn't have the time. She groaned and rolled off before her hands could move of their own accord. There was never enough, she could never get enough or be close enough.
Still, before she got off the bed, she paused and gave Lisa a playful kiss to the temple. Lisa blinked in surprise at the casual contact, and Roseanne pretended she didn't see her cheeks go pink.
Luke was already on the couch in the lowest living room when she came down, a bowl of cereal balanced between his knees as he stared intensely at the prancing reindeer on the screen.
"Morning, kid."
He looked up and giggled at her Santa hat, his hazel eyes sparkling behind his hand. Before Roseanne could be surprised that he was up, he grinned and leapt, throwing himself at her.
She caught him, shocked. Thank God for Christmas miracles, she thought. He had barely spared a word for her over the past two weeks. There had definitely been no hugs or smiles or giggles.
She squeezed him tightly, breathing his little sticky scent in and relishing the hug that was worth a million bucks. "Merry Christmas Eve."
He grinned and kissed her with a slightly milky face.
She squeezed again before he could remember that he was mad at her. She had definitely needed that.
"I'm off to work. Be a good boy for Lisa. I'll be back soon, and then we'll make cookies, okay?"
"Cookies for Santa!" he yelled and belly-flopped back onto the couch, making her wince when he nearly cracked his chin on the arm.
"Right, cookies for Santa."
"With frosting!"
"With frosting! Okay, I gotta go. I love you, buddy."
"You too, Mommy!" he called back, eyes already glued back to the screen.
"Go get Lisa. Remember to stomp."
She was pleased when he ran past her and up the stairs. He stood just outside the final step to Lisa's room, stomping hard on the floor. They really had to get a doorbell or something since the room had no door and Lisa liked to sleep sans pajamas.
The thought made her smile as she pulled on her jacket and then, like a balloon suddenly full of helium, her thoughts soared. They wouldn't need to do that if the surgery worked. Lisa would hear him coming.
From a floor below, Roseanne watched as Lisa scooped him up happily, clad in the bright red and green holiday pajamas she had splurged and bought for her. She looked adorable in the goofy outfit.
A smile still on her face, Roseanne stepped into the elevator to brave the outdoors.
As a rule, classical musicians tended to feel one of two ways about Christmas pops concerts: either they were fun and inspiring, a way to pass along the holiday spirit through love and music, or they wanted to crack their instruments over the head of every single concertgoer. After all, there were only so many Christmas songs in the world, and by high school most musicians had not only perfected each and every one, but could play them by heart.
