Her Name Was December

Day 21

On January 8th, December awoke by the sounds of keys shuffling outside the door. Greyson stumbled in with a grunt, nearly falling on top of the plastic bags he was carrying. He looked over to the couch to see December staring back at him with wide eyes.

He chuckled. "Tricky door. I don't think I'll ever get used to that thing." Smiling, he carried the bags over to his small, four-seater dining table. "Rest well, sleepyhead?"

"Uh..." December said, remembering the events of the night before. She held back tears that threatened to burst from her eyes, and she kept wiping away strays as soon as they fell.

As Greyson set up the table, she was picking up all of the things that fell out of her bag.

"I went back to that Chinese place and picked up your order from last night." he said, setting out the chopsticks and fortune cookies on the table. "Well, not that one of course. I wouldn't let you eat old food." He smiled at the sight of his romantic, takeout breakfast. "Bon appetit!"

When he turned around, his smile immediately turned to a frown. December had her bag slung over her shoulder and was buttoning up her burgundy winter coat with tears silently streaming down her face.

"December, wha-"

"I need to go."

"What, no! I want to make sure you're safe."

She shifted around in the spare clothes he had given her to replace the uncomfortable, torn ones. She kept rubbing and scratching at her skin, like she felt invisible bugs all over her body.

"I, no... I can't." she said. She shook her head quickly and wiped away another tear. She pulled herself together for a moment, smoothing out her jacket and standing up straight. "I'll be fine, Greyson. Besides, that shit wasn't even created in China, anyway." She tried to smile, but it only appeared as a contorted half-grin. With that, she walked out the door.

Greyson strode behind her, calling for her to wait. "December-" he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

December gasped softly and pulled away from his touch, looking back at him with a look of pure terror as tears started flowing more rapidly.

"Oh, December. I'm sorry..." Greyson said, looking down shamefully.

She took a few steps away from him, breathing unevenly and shaking her head, trying to calm down.

"Listen... At least let me drive you home."

"Greyson."

"No. If you're not staying here, I'm either driving home with you or walking."

December sniffled and wiped her nose before walking stiffly over to his car. They both got in, and Greyson hesitated to start the car.

"December, I'm really sorry if I-"

"Can we just not talk?" she asked. She closed her eyes and pressed her head against the cold window, fogging up the icy glass with a deep sigh.

***

December directed him to her home, which was, like all of the spots she spent time at, completely off Greyson's grid. Before he knew it he was in the center of a huge parking lot of an abandoned department store that hadn't been open since he was a kid. December's truck was parked sloppily between two cracked and faded yellow lines.

"Here we are." she said, eager to get out of the car.

Greyson furrowed his eyebrows together. "But... There's nothing here but your pickup. December, if you're planning on driving off somewhere on your own-"

"Greyson! You don't understand. It is just my pickup."

"What? You live out of your car?" Greyson asked with concern.

"Ever since I left home. You think I haul all my shit around in this thing for nothing?"

"No, no. I'm so sorry."

"God, stop saying that. It's fine." she said shortly. She adjusted the leather strap on her shoulder and popped the car door open, stepping out.

Greyson sighed and stared down at his lap as she walked to her home on four wheels. His heart raced at the thought of December being in so much pain. He got out of his rust bucket of a car and jogged over to her.

"December..." he started, trying desperately not to seem pushy. December was silently fiddling around with things in her backseat. "I really... I just want to help you."

Again, she didn't answer. "You can stay in my apartment if you'd like. I know I only have one bedroom, but I'm okay with sleeping on the couch. Jeez, I've spent most of my nights on that thing anyway. You wouldn't need to feel unwelcome or anything, I swear it would make me feel a hell of a lot better if-"

"Greyson. No." December snapped. She had stopped moving, facing the inside of her truck as she grasped a blanket tight against the seat.

"I-"

"No. Please. Just go."

Greyson nodded softly to himself, digging his fingernails into his palm. With the pit in his stomach growing with each step, he slowly backed away towards his car as he watched a single, glistening tear run down December's face.