Chapter Fifty-Five

                   I have a hard time telling myself that the only reason for my attendance at Lee's party is to bid him a wonderful birthday along with a final goodbye. That's it. Both of our lives have diverged into different paths now. Lee is taking responsibility of Penny and her baby and his company. I am taking responsibility of my mother and future.

Mom hasn't responded well at all. Due to her aneurysm bleeding again and again, the doctors keep cutting my mother open every time she codes. So far, they have been able to keep the bleeding at bay. Thanks to Madam Jin, some of the best are operating on my mother. However, they are still only human. The doctors say there is nothing else they can do and one day, they won't be able to stop the bleeding.

I've begun avoiding the hospital all together. From spending every waking day there, I now try to go everywhere else but my mother's deathbed. Focusing on classwork, friends, my future. If the doctors can't reach me, they can't force me to make any decisions...right?

"Pencils down," the professor announces.

I finish bubbling my last question for my Classical British Literature final. With that, my first semester at college is over.

I breathe a sigh of relief once the exams are collected. I stand, wrapping my red knit scarf around my neck as I gaze out the windows. The class is on the second floor of a busy street. Light snow trickles down into the city, the kind that seems slow and light. Cars are honking, per usual, but even more so as the snow causes accidents and traffic.

"What'd you think of that exam?" Giselle says, catching up to me as I leave.

I roll my eyes. "Thank the lords it's over is all I can say."

"Tell me about it! I swear half the questions he pulled out of his ass," she says, appalled. She pulls down her white beanie and we walk down the flight of stairs. "You up for some food?"

"Mm, sure," I tell her. "You want to try a new coffee shop in Manhattan?"

She gleams. "You betcha."

Giselle and I have not forgotten our adventurous foodie commitment. We haven't gotten to go anywhere all week or month because of finals but now that finals are over and Christmas is around the corner, our weekly ritual of finding a new place to eat or drink at has been resurrected. Occasionally, we invite other people from our friend group but usually, it's our thing.

"Invite Dan, Tan, Jess, and the rest or no?" she asks before laughing. "I love rhyming."

I laugh along with her. "Sure," I decide, "why not? One last hurrah as finals end and before we all disappear for like a month and a half. Everyone's going back home soon."

The word home feels like a punch to the gut. I barely remember what that is anymore. Not the room with the constant technical beeping that reassures my mother's alive. Not the empty house back in Brownwood that seems like a lifetime away now. Not the dorm I am about to move out of.

I have no idea what to do for Christmas. The same fear I had for Thanksgiving creeps up my throat again. Can Brent even make it back? Or is he going to Panama with the rest of his frat friends for vacation? I miss him. I miss Candy. I miss my old life.

A couple metro rides later, Giselle and I reach downtown Manhattan. It's not hard to find a new place to dine. There's at least ten restaurants every street. On the corner of two streets, we find a quirky looking cafe with the theme of clouds and no stress. Since no stress would be very much appreciated in my life, we decide to give it a try.

Giselle texts everyone the address and soon enough, the rest of our friends come trickling in. Inside, there are bean bags and plush sofas. Stars and clouds hang from the high ceiling on strings. A fake fireplace releases real warmth in the corner where we decide to sit.

Fifteen minutes later, I am sitting in a purple bean bag and drinking hot chocolate. As the front door blasts cold air inside, I look up. "There's Tanner and Daniel."

The two idiots are both hatless and gloveless. At least Tanner has enough brain to wear a scarf. Daniel's nose and ears are bright red as he enters, just a coat keeping him warm. They leak water from the melting snow off of their clothes as they walk over.

"Nice place," Tanner comments, taking a seat next to Giselle on the loveseat directly in front of the fireplace. I shoot Giselle a flirty look and she rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, warm too," Daniel says, clearing the fog off of his glasses and then putting them on. There's no more seats as there is only a sofa and a beanbag in this section. He places his bag down and sits himself down near my legs, taking a seat on the beautiful carpet in our little area.

I glare at Daniel. "Well, you would be much warmer if you wore a hat and gloves. Even a scarf, Daniel!"

He turns and looks at me, flashing me his signature grin. It's hard to be mad at this idiot. "I'm immune."

"Yeah, right!" I press his ear with my fingers. They're insanely cold. "Your ears are nearly falling off from the frostbite you will probably get in this weather."

"It's fine, I'm fine," he says, waving me off. "Where's Jess the Mess and Suzy Woozy?" They got their names from their behavior at the frequent parties on 7C, the hub of partying at our residential hall.

"Unfortunately, our dynamic duo said they had a date before they both head in separate directions for break, so, they won't be joining us," Giselle answers. She wiggles her eyebrows. "They said not to call or text for the next few hours."

The boys "oooooooh" and Giselle and I laugh and roll our eyes.

Tanner and Giselle start talking about how their finals went together, heads leaned in towards each other. The atmosphere has changed around them. It's suddenly tense and—yeah, they're definitely going to be a thing by next semester.

I turn to Daniel, finally glad to get some down time with him. Though he's been very prominent in my life, always helping me to not forget meals or classwork during my mother's hospitalization, this is the first time I've really seen him since the hibernation to study for finals. The only place I'd been recently had been the library and the secret dining room that nobody knows of on the sixth floor of our residence hall.

"Hey," I say, taking a sip of my milky brown hot chocolate and then staring at Daniel's eyes, which seem to appear the same color at the moment.

"Hi," he says, head touching my knees. He wraps an arm around my leg, rubbing my knee softly as he speaks. It's strangely endearing and makes my heart warm. "How have you been?"

I could tell him it's been hell. But I end up replying, "Good. Fine. How were finals?"

"Good. Fine," he responds, the corner of his lip quirking up. He rests his cheek on my knee, looking up through his long lashes. "How are you really?" he whispers.

I sigh. Keeping up an appearance is harder than being honest. "Tired."

"Everything okay?"

I take my hand and run it through Daniel's hair. His hair is dark and soft and wet from the snow. Running my fingers through it calms me. "My mom.... She's not going to get better."

Daniel reaches for the hand in his hair and takes it in his own, rubbing his thumb back and forth across my fingers. He kisses my hand briefly. "You are going to be all right."

Because I know where this talk leads and the unnecessary emotion that I do not have to deal with, I decide to change the topic. "You want some of my hot chocolate? It's still warm."

He holds my stare for five long seconds, his face serious and worried. And then in the blink of an eye, the grin is back as if he understands this is my coping mechanism, and takes the drink. He throws his head back, finishing whatever was left in my cup. "Delicious."

"Hey!" I say, fake-angry. "I said 'some' not all!"

Daniel continues smiling. His hands reach up and tickle my stomach. I jump, yelping. "Really now?"

I grab his collar, pulling him close before he can make a move again. "Listen to me," I whisper, dangerously threatening, "and listen to me good, Boner Boy." His eyes widen and the blush that never gets old reappears on his cheeks. "That's right. Before you lay your hands of death, let's assert who has the upper hand always. Me. That's right, me. Taste the fear."

He pouts, the red slowly diffusing from his face. "You suck."

I kiss his pout. "Tell me about it."

"Forget speaking, come here," he says, voice low. His hands snake up to the back of my head, fingers woven in my hair as he pulls me closer. Our lips touch and then quickly enough, it becomes hot and passionate. My hands loosen on his collar and I just hold his face, holding onto the back of his soft hair.

I tilt my head, wanting more, pushing for more.

"Ow!" Daniel cries when my forehead shoves his glasses too close to his eyes.

I move away, looking at the flustered mess he is as he fixes his glasses and collar. He is my best method to take my mind off of things. "Oops," I say, an accomplished smile crawling onto my face.

We both look up to see Tanner and Giselle staring with surprised but disgusted faces. They look at each other and then back at us.

"Get a room, geeks," Tanner says, slyly throwing an arm on the part of the chair that holds Giselle. Nice one, Tanner....

"Yeah," she agrees, laughing. "That was a mess to look at."

Daniel and I ignore them. "Fine," he says. "Let's just sit somewhere else."

I look at Giselle and the hint of panic that crosses her face. She and Tanner have been denying their feelings and what not. But the whole world can tell. "You're right," I add. I smirk at Giselle. Revenge is sweet. "Enjoy each other's company."

"Ivory—"

Daniel and I find a small couch by the corner window before they can intervene. The snow is a bit heavier outside now, more constant and hitting the ground faster.

"So," I start, "I have a favor to ask."

He's wiping his glasses, using his shirt to clear the fog and melted snow. His hair looks like a disaster and he looks so tired with dark circles underneath his eyes, but still, he's handsome. "Yeah?"

"I need you to be my date for a party."

An eyebrow raises but he doesn't look up. "Okay? Sure? What for?"

"It's for Lee Richardson's birthday party."

Daniel's head snaps up, his mouth agape. "What? You got invited to that?"

"Yes, don't ask how," I say. "Just...do you want to?"

He grins. "It's a date then." And a second too late, I realize this might all be a mistake.

                            When Christmas comes, it feels strange.

Every single year on Christmas, Mom and I would go shopping together. We would split up at a store, secretly picking gifts for each other, buying them in separate checkouts, and then waiting till Christmas day to open them. Our presents would be very predictable or boring. Scarves and mugs or clothes we never needed. But, we would do it anyway. Brent would go shopping separately and actually practice the event of Christmas right, but my mother and I continued with our weird tradition.

This year, standing in the store alone with scarves and mugs in my cart feels weird. Checking out without looking over my shoulder to make sure Mom isn't there is weird. Walking to the parking lot by myself with no one to sing holiday songs is weird.

I stand by my car for a moment, my nose red and running from the cold. My breath comes out in the air. The sun is setting. Christmas is here and I am alone.

I grab the mug and hurl it on the ground where it smashes into an infinite amount of pieces.

I drive away with frustration and tears and I don't look back.

                  When it's the 28th and the day of Lee's birthday party, it's the first time I shower in nearly four days. I am home again, huddled under at least ten blankets. The house is chilly since we had to cut back on heating and other luxuries. I don't know why I didn't accept invitations to stay with friends and their families during break. Instead, I decided to drown in my own pity and sadness over one of the happiest times in the year.

It isn't until it takes me an hour to convince myself to get up and pursue hygiene again that it occurs to me I might have a problem. That or the two empty vodka bottles rolling around on the ground. Yeah, definitely a problem.

Whatever, I mutter when I begin to strip and head into the shower. That has been my motto lately with everything I do. Half-hearted. Half-assed. I just have stopped caring. It aches less.

When Daniel is at my front door, I am dressed and so full of makeup it hides my tired eyes and defeated default expression. Sprays of perfume over the house hopefully mask the odor of alcohol and day old microwave meals lying around.

After digging for more information, the party seems to be insanely formal with gowns and tuxes and all that. I end up wearing a maroon dress that sweeps the floor and loops around my neck, hair in a updo—mostly because I have no energy to do anything with it.

"Hey," I tell him, leaning into his wide arms when I open the door. The frosty air whooshes into my already cold house, but still, I get a chill up my arms. "You look dashing."

He takes a step back, his eyes raking down my body and dress. A step closer, he kisses my cheek. "You look absolutely stunning. It's an honor to be your date." He sheepishly grins. "Now I feel guilty for bringing my mom's old car along when you look this good."

"Thank you," I tell him, forcing a smile. I just want to crawl back into bed. Maybe it's not too late to change my R.S.V.P. I just want to sleep forever.

A pinch of skin appears between Daniel's eyebrows. He presses a hand to my cheek and I suddenly want to vomit. "Are you okay? You look...different." His hand goes to my forearm, moving it a bit. "Like you lost some weight or something."

I use the same arm he's holding to push some strands of hair out of my face, indirectly brushing his hand off. "I'm fine," I say, eyes down. "I have to get my purse, just a moment."

A flash of hurt crosses his face but it passes quickly. His hand stills mid-air before he puts it down. "Yeah, uh, yeah, sure. I'll be out in the car. Take your time." He looks at me for a moment with a stare that makes me feel like a total asshole for being so touchy in the moment. It's just been a rough couple of weeks—months, really. I don't even have enough breath to explain it to him or say I'm sorry.

I let him go and turn back into the house, trudging through the piles of trash lying around the floor. It's a good thing he didn't come in any further. I find my purse somehow in the pigsty and rush to the car, where for the first time this week, I feel heat. The car ride is silent. I sleep. Daniel drives, trying to understand what's happening with me by just observing.

When he shakes me awake, we're in front of one of the Richardson hotels. The car is running on the pavement of a circular path that runs around the main entrance. A young valet waits with a smile outside. There is a chandelier even on the roof of the canopy above the entrance area.

I sit up, pushing my loose side hair back. I sniff, rubbing my nose. Daniel's giving me that stare again. Concerned, confused. "Let's go," I say.

He hands the keys to the smiling girl who gets in and drives the car away to park. And now that I am actually in front of a Richardson hotel, actually about to walk in and see Lee again, I feel a pang of emotion. And though it's a aching feeling, I welcome it because it's the first feeling I've felt in a while. I brush it off and loop my arm with Daniel's before walking through the revolving doors.

The inside is big, bright, and grand. With four chandeliers covering the lobby, it raises my eyebrows how giant just the lobby is. I guess I never really appreciated one of Lee's hotels. His legacy—all of this. He works so hard. He cares so much. I could never ask or imply for him to give this away, not for a girl—not for me. If it was the other way around, it would be the same.

We tell the front desk what we're here for and my thoughts vanish as I focus on the present. The presidential ballroom has been booked tonight apparently. The doors are closed when we arrive. It's a private party, obviously. We check in with a secretary at the door, who checks us off the R.S.V.P. I wonder what it says. Miss Flores plus one? Ivory and Daniel? What does it matter anyway?

As soon we step in through the doors and I hear an orchestra playing, people chattering, and laughter everywhere, I suddenly want to go home. I don't know why. I just get this queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I'm not bothered by it all but I just feel like my stomach is in circles.

"You okay?" Daniel asks, his eyes weighing his words heavier than what he's letting on. He squeezes our intertwined hands. He's usually not so serious, but today without his glasses and visible forehead wrinkles when he looks at me—also when he looks this handsome and solemn with his hair slicked back—he looks like a different person. He really does look dashing in his tux.

I sigh. I've been a total bitch all night. "I'm fine." I place my hand on his chest and begin absentmindedly fixing his tie. "I'm sorry for being so...touchy tonight. Christmas—it's just—I—it's hard. Especially without my mom. I'm sorry."

He places his hand on top of mine, taking my fingers and kissing them softly. "You don't owe me an explanation ever. Just...take care of yourself, okay? Or don't be afraid to reach out. I am here for you always. I mean, I'm already in New York for the rest of break since Christmas is over. I could stay with you?"

My mouth opens and freezes. Speak, damn it. "I—"

He releases my hand and for some reason, I'm scared when he does. As if he's going to just back up and leave because I am such a troubled mess right now. But he doesn't. He lets go of my hand so he can press his hand against my cheek. "Like I said, you don't owe me anything, including an answer just in this moment. Just think on it, okay?"

If I wasn't all jumbled up in my head, I swear I wouldn't be so unworthy for Daniel. I feel like crying right now. But, since I'm not that messed up yet, I nod with watery eyes.

Daniel grins in his lazy way and it's so comforting to see him again after a lonely week, I smile back. A tear escapes my eye and I quickly wipe it away. Daniel's eyes soften and he pulls me in, kissing the top of my head. "I love you."

I freeze. I feel him stiffen as well as if he didn't mean to say it out loud. Again.

I suddenly remember Thanksgiving, almost a month ago. When my mother was first being hospitalized and when she had her first aneurysm. It was so hectic we both completely ignored and eventually forgot about it. Standing in his arms now where there's no way to avoid it, I am at a loss in what to do.

Daniel pulls back, his eyes wide and grin gone.

"Ivory."

I begin to open my mouth to respond, but I realize that my name didn't come out of his mouth. That voice. The expensive cologne. The shiver that runs down my spine.

I turn to look into a pair of icy blue eyes.

So, this is one of my longest update haitus spans ever. I