Birds || Fuenciado

Chapter 18: Silent Night

My parents used to go to Church on Christmas Eve and then again on Christmas Day for mass - but they stopped going when the corruption in the Church came to light in the mainstream press. They wanted nothing to do with it and had no wish to endorse any practice that abused religion in such a way, and decided that if they were going to be Catholic, the were going to be Catholic in a good way; the right way; and they never went to Church again. As a result, Mike and I have always spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at home.

Although we are, in fact, spending today at home, things are a little different. Tony has come round to give Mike and Jaime their presents (or at least, put them under the tree for tomorrow), and he's brought his mom, a charming, sweet natured woman named Claudia, to meet us - Mike has told me that Tony's father passed away when he was eleven and he was raised by his mom and nobody else. Tony's gifts, perfectly wrapped, are the first to go under the tree. In keeping with tradition, the rest of the presents from all of us to each other will go under the tree tonight.

With the presents delivered, Tony and Mike disappeared to the basement an hour ago and it wasn't long till I heard the whine of a guitar and the rattle of drum sticks on cymbals - within moments they'd launched into Young and Hopeless. Good Charlotte. Naturally. And Tony is damn good on that guitar.

"You're not serious," Jaime says as he appears at the door of my room, carrying two mugs of coffee, and sets them down on the bedside table as he giggles. Hands free, he puts his hands on his hips and tilts his head. "We aren't leaving for another three days."

"I want to be prepared," I shrug and smile, clasping my hands together and swaying slightly.

I have my little suitcase open on the bed and an array of clothes laid out around it. Inside the suitcase I've already put my dressy shoes, an ironed button down and a pair of clean pants, folded meticulously - my smart outfit for going to see the musical. Knowing New York is going to be even colder than winter in San Diego, I'm trying to make sure I bring enough layers for tourist-ing round the city. And then, beside all my clothes I have the beginnings of my toiletries bag and my travel things - I've drawn the money I need for food and city transport from the bank, setting myself a cash budget with just a small amount to spare in case of emergencies on my card, and the flights and accommodation are, of course, already paid for. The money sits in my wallet, and then beside my wallet I have my passport, and in the spine of my passport is tucked my flight ticket. True - we aren't actually leaving until the twenty seventh, arriving in the morning of the twenty-eighth, but I'm too excited to put off packing for another minute. "Do you think I should take a scarf? Or maybe I should put it in my carry-ons...it gets cold on flights, doesn't it? Do you think both planes will have a blanket or will I need to take my own?"

"Vic," he laughs, coming over to the bed and kneeling on it so the mattress bounces slightly. "Chill!"

"I'm too excited!" I squeal, and he laughs again and takes my hands.

"You're cute."

"You're amazing. If it weren't for you none of this would be happening. I still can't believe it's happening."

For a while, he says nothing - just kneels on the mattress, blankets still a mess and unmade from last night, and keeps a hold of my hands as we watch each other, seeing who'll speak next. It's me, because I'm too excited to actually contain it. "I'm definitely going to cry."

"So am I."

"I'll be gone by Waving Through a Window."

"I'll be gone by the curtain going up," he quips, and I laugh, because that isn't actually too much of a stretch of the imagination. "I reckon if you lean forward and take a peek down the row during You Will Be Found not one person won't be crying."