THE DEVIL'S AFFECTION

41. DECEMBER

I WAKE UP alone. There's rustling downstairs and I sit up to listen better. Is Hanes up and about today? He's usually so quiet and contained in his chair. I wonder what he's up to.

I step out of bed and slip on some new clothes before walking out. The rustling gets louder as I descend the stairs.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" I hear him cuss and I freeze up as he does.

I continue to the bottom of the steps and walk past the statue to the back room. He's not in his chair but as I look to the other side of the room, I see an evergreen tree and Hanes on his stomach under it.

I snicker as he cusses under his breath while trying to screw it into its base.

"Need some help?" I question, causing him to hit his head on the branches above before backing out and properly getting out from under it.

"Oh," he chuckles, swiping the needles out of his hair. "I-um... here!" He presents the tree to me with open arms as he gets to his feet and comes to stand by me.

"What's this for?" I question.

"It's for Christmas!"

"But it's only December 1st. That's a little early don't you think?" I question. "I didn't think you'd be the type to like Christmas very much."

"Well, hey," he wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling in for a hug as I press my cheek to his shoulder. "What's not to like?"

"It's a nice tree. I'm shocked you got it in all on your own."

"Hey! I'm strong! I can manage it no problem. It's just the stupid base that was giving me grief." He parts from me to look at it as he sighs.

I chuckle again and walk over closer to the tree.

"Jeez, I haven't had a Christmas tree around in a while. Not a real one like this, anyway."

"The real ones are better. Livens up the place a bit, don't you think?"

I nod. "Most definitely."

"So, listen," he steps in front of me. "I know things haven't been so great but I thought that maybe we could have a little Christmas here, today. What do you think?"

I furrow my brows slightly at the suggestion, confused by his interest. Truly, I expected him to be the kind to hate Christmas. He's alone most of the year and doesn't have much time for frivolous things. Then again, I guess we are stuck here with nothing to do. Maybe that changed is mind.

"Why so early?"

He shrugs. "Something to make you happier, I thought."

I think it over. It would be nice to live in ignorance of anything being bad and have a small Christmas here.

"Yeah, sure, why not?" I smile to him.

"Perfect," he grins.

"I got some decorations but I don't know if they'll be enough... now that I'm looking at it." He looks down at his single bag and then back to the massive tree. "And I bought some cookie stuff but then I realized that it's not gingerbread but I think it'll work anyway."

I can't help but smile at his failed attempts at making the day festive. Regardless if he succeeded, I think it'll be nice anyway.

          LOOKING AT the sad, basically bare tree, I can't help but snicker as I roll out the dough. It has about twelve red balls placed around it. No lights, no tinsel, nothing but the balls and branches.

"What?!" He asks, hearing my snicker.

"That tree is so sad." I laugh.

"I didn't think it through, okay?! I thought two boxes of ornaments would be okay. I didn't think that I'd need six."

"It's okay, I know you did your best." I look down at the dough, smiling.

With the dough as widespread and as useable as I can make it, I set the rolling pin aside and look through the bag for the cookie cutters. He bought two cute little gingerbread man and two star cutters. My heart swells with memories of baking cookies with my mother. I remember I used to complain that my dad ate most of them after doing next to no work. He'd always have a crumb in his short beard that gave it away.

"Alright," I snap out of my thoughts. "You wanna start cutting them out, now?"

"Oh-um... yeah, sure, I guess." He comes over to stand next to me, looking down at the dough.

I can tell that he doesn't have much experience with Christmas festivities like these. I mean, if wasn't obvious with the tree but I can tell just by the way he's taking these cookie cutters now. He goes to place the gingerbread-man-cutter in the middle and I stop him.

"Try placing them as close to the edge as you can and then work in. The most we can get out of this without rolling it again, the better." My mother taught me that.

He nods, placing it towards the outside. I take a star and do the same. We keep doing this until the dough is full of shapes and then I peel away the left over dough and slowly scoop them onto the pan.

"How good is gingerbread anyway? I mean, is it really any different than any other cookie?"

My eyes shock wide. "You haven't tried gingerbread before?!"

"Well, no..."

"Shame," I shake my head. "It is so good! Was my dad's favourite."

Hanes looks down and I realize that perhaps Christmas was never overly fun for him.

"But, you know, nothing is better than the classic; chocolate chip cookies." I smile at him.

He offers me a weak smile back and then walks over closer and wraps his arms around me.

"You don't have to worry about me, I'm just fine."

But I know that none of that is true.

          AT THE DAY'S END, full from cookies, we sit on the couch, snuggled up next to each other. With my head against his shoulder and his resting on mine, we watch the fire and reflect upon the day.

"Did I do a good job?" Hanes asks.

"Yes," I chuckle. "I had a very good Christmas. Although it was odd to have it so early, I'm happy we did."

It doesn't fix anything but it certainly distracted me and reminded me of good times from my past; more of those vivid memories that I love so much.

"I've never had a very good Christmas and I think this one was my best." He kisses the top of my head before resting his cheek down on it.

"I'm sorry that it's never been very good for you. Christmas is always a time of year that I can count on being good. Or, at least, it was when my parents were alive."

"Thing have changed, I guess."

I nod. "As they always do."

As the day is coming to an end, I find myself painfully aware of reality. I'm back where I was just a day ago.

"Do you think things will ever go back to the way that they were?" I ask him.

I can feel him gently shake his head. "No, I don't think they ever will."

I knew the answer but hearing him say it makes it a little more real. Things will never be as they were. We will never stop being chased. We will never be as we were.