December 7th

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December 7th:

Mara sometimes pictured her life being a film, wishing for a boy to blow out sixteen candles on a cake with her. She envisioned herself in the dimly lit room, sitting crossed-legged across from a boy who'd never noticed her before today- the only one to remember her birthday. To stand outside the church with a bouquet of her favorite red flowers and whisk her off her feet.

To steal all her broken thoughts and replace them with the single treasured memory of this birthday. But her life isn't a movie, and she isn't Molly Ringwald.

Mara didn't think he would know, another day on the calendar, not marked as important to anyone. She didn't feel him slip from beneath her arms, leaving her abandoned in his bedroom. She didn't hear him sneak out towards the treehouse under the twilight stars, his hands stuffed with streamers and such. The clock just sprung midnight, another minute, another day to misremember. She surely didn't feel him reappear through the old creaking door, nor did she sense him looming over her.

His hand falls to her shoulder, shaking her a few times before she stirs, disoriented. It is snowing outside, burying the ground even brighter, its flakes shimmering beneath the moonlight. The treehouse has string lights hung around the inside, its glow through the single window of its expanse.

They will decorate the whole house today, Elias showing Mara what Christmas is really about, the appeal. But right now isn't for carols sung beneath the mistletoe. It is meant to be a puff of wind blowing out nineteen candles sprinkled over a messily frosted cake. He'd woken his mom up to help him, which she did, happy to see that simper on his face.

He'd told them the truth, all of it the day they arrived. As if a weight lifted off his shoulders, one that had been there far too long. He was featherlight, like a fledgling, his heart swelled for the girl who laid beneath his covers. She blinks slowly, her eyes adjusting to the dark of the room.

"Emmy," he murmurs against her ear, shaking her shoulders harder this time. She is a rock when asleep, not one to wake up to the shrill sirens of an alarm. But the low vibrato of his voice is enough to startle her upright.

"Huh, what?" She blinks, rubbing her eyes. Cupping his face, she figures he's had a nightmare or something, staring at him so earnestly. He can see the tire in her eyes, the suppressed yawn, but she is alert; for him. If possible he loves her more, placing a dainty kiss on her temples.

"Follow me," he murmurs, extending his hand towards her in the dark. Like the fairytale she'd always wished for, prince charming to whisk her off her feet. Accepting his hand with her own, the smile forming on her lips, he pulls her into his chest. She stumbles, trying to get her footing at the quick change in action.

"Late night CIA mission?" She proposes, "I'm starting to like these."

Elias leads her out through his window without a response, his sweatshirt overwhelming her frame. Strayed tendrils of her hair fall over her forehead, watching as her heated breath hits the bitter air around them, the smog whirling around her lips. The tip of her nose turns red as she takes a moment to stare at the beauty found deep within the wintertime, the bareness and complete exposure of the world around them.

"Do you remember coming here?" He asks, climbing on the latter below her as she scaled into the treehouse. Her tattered Converse, catching the wooden steps, pulling herself higher until she falls into its narrow space.

"If I'm being honest, not really. It's all a little blurry, but some moments are clearer than others. I think I was drinking that night anyways," she clucks her tongue, moving so Elias can sit across from her. The battery-operated lights and lit candles create a glow as they meet each other's eyes.

"When I was little, I never let anyone in here. It was my hideout, my rooftop I guess," he says, Elias's dark brown eyes glancing around the small quarters. His head grazes the roof, a blanket across the bottom of the wooden box for some sort of comfort. His hair is disordered, wearing old flannel pajama pants and a paint-splatter sweatshirt.

"Well, I'm happy you brought me here. May I ask why at midnight?" She rubs her hands together, blowing on them in hopes to warm them up. Mara looks at him through the faint light, feeling all too much like film. If her back didn't hurt from her cramped position, she would have figured it was a dream.

"Happy birthday, Mar," he beams, placing the cake between them. "It's not great," he looks bashful, scratching the back of his neck as he peeked at her through his bangs. Elias made the cake himself, the frosting botched in some space. Smeared where he stuck his fingers in it, tasting the sweetness against his lips.

She's quiet a minute, staring at the cake as her eyes well up with tears of happiness. Her fingers tremble as she reaches for Elias's bouncing knee, choking out a laugh as she sniffs her runny nose. A few tears escape their place, biting her lip as she looks up at him with so much devotion he can feel it burning his skin.

So many words are talked through silence more powerful than anything to leave their lips. Everything unspoken, shown through the blamelessness of existence, was the vision.

"Thank you, it's- I love it," she falters over her words in a low whisper, leaning over the cake to kiss him fervently with all she can. Showing him what speech in her mind can't form, actions speak louder in volume.

Her hands hold onto his neck as she rises to her knees, steadying herself. Her chest pressed against his, feeling his breathing, the poised up and down of his chest against hers. Mara's eyelids flutter shut with the heat. Her heart pounds against her chest in a steady rhythm, blood rushing to her ears as her emotions well up into one atmosphere.

The wind outside rattles against the treehouse as his lips tenderly brushes hers, smiling at it all. Mara has felt dominance, she has felt anarchy before, the utter obsession with one's existence. But never has she felt love, such a requisite piece of her that she is lost without it. Her seeker in all the darkness. The absolute knowing that through all of your turmoil, they'd be there in the end. Not a person she chose herself but was dictated in her heart.

She has only felt desire before there was Elias. Love is a different chemical balance. One that steals breathes from the week and tears from the powerful. To be who she may become in a future president, she has to experience life as she was, Emanuella. All those misfortunes that hurt her involuntarily led her to be here, sat in the treehouse, half past midnight.

Her mind was at ease; for once in her life, everything makes sense.

---

Mara decides that Ella is the mother she's always desired. They'd picked out a Christmas tree early in the day, a healthy one that bends at the top, vibrant green and large, the living room ceilings too low. Mara has never trimmed a decorated tree before, which made Ella invest her time in the girl whose presence brings light to her son. Showing her the ins and outs of decorating.

Mara only ever had white trees with gold ornaments growing up, hiring decorators to decide that year's theme. Once, having been in a good mood, as her father being home for Christmas, her mother made cookies. It made a mess, Mara only four or five at the time, but it was the most animated she'd ever been.

Elias and his father relax on the shag couch, watching their show while drowning out the sounds of Mara and Ella's chatter. Every once in a while, Elias will glance over his shoulder. A smile cemented his face as he watches his mother bustle around, Mara scurrying behind her. The fireplace beneath the television, lighting the world within as night set upon them outside.

"We're almost out," Mara states, holding up one of the last homemade ornaments. A few store-bought ones were scattering the energetic tree, the rest being handcrafted. This one has a picture of a young Elias, his arms wrapped around a girl similar in age with raven black hair. He is toothless, Mara smirking at it, putting it where it was visible.

"Honey, I have three more boxes downstairs," Ella's laughs, patting her shoulder as she moves behind her.

"She's not lying," Elias calls out, tilting his head to look over at Mara, "I should know. Mom makes me clean up every year."

Ella grins, disheveling up Elias's hair before motioning for Mara to follow her downstairs, where the decorations hid. Disappearing within the charming house, the voices of the boys disappearing the farther they venture. It feels like home here, the scent of cinnamon and pinewood carrying through the entire house. Family vacation pictures hung on the walls of the hallway, sprinkled in with children's messy artwork.

"You make him the happiest I've seen in a really long time," Ella stops Mara at the bottom of the staircase, her voice loaded with sentiment. Mara smiles, nodding her head, a blush forming on her cheeks, not knowing what to say. The tips of her ears and cheekbones turning pink, happy for the dank light.

"He makes me happy too," she smiles.

"Well, I hope you know you're family now," Ella continues, spinning on her heels and walking deeper into the cellar, her voice drifting. Mara was still stuck on the last step, her hands clutching the banister harshly as her stomach twists. Mara's grin grows until it physically aches, her eyes flaring with happiness.

Family. It was all Mara ever wanted.

"Are you coming, honey? I need some help with the boxes since my son and husband are lazy asses," Ella calls out, struggling to lift the box stuffed with strands of popcorns and beads, along with adornments. She peeks her head through the doorway, motioning for Mara to follow with a soft smile, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Yeah," Mara replies with a grin, following her into the cellar brimmed with boxes, "I'll be right there."

---

Authors Note:

These chapters are lighthearted, there's a reason.

Thoughts?

Like, comment, follow.

- ❤ Nia


Edited 4/12/22


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