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Emmett’s ringing cell phone wakes him at 6am on Christmas morning. He lifts his head with a groan, reaching clumsily to where it’s charging on his bedside table. He picks it up and flips it open. “Hello?” he answers groggily.
“IT’S SNOWING!!!!!”
Emmett winces and puts some distance between his ear and the phone. “Good morning, Elle,” he says with a laugh.
“Oh, did I wake you?” she asks, sounding legitimately concerned.
“I mean, yeah, it’s 6am,” Emmett responds, laying back against the pillows. “How early do you think I get up?”
“I don’t know! You did tell me one of the first times we met that you never sleep!”
Emmett rubs his eyes tiredly. “Well we all need a break at least once a century, don’t we?”
Elle laughs. “Well I’m sorry to have ruined yours.”
“It’s not ruined,” Emmett smiles. “Not by a long-shot.”
“Good! Because it’s snowing, Emmett! And I wanted to call my mom about it, but it’s 3am in LA and I figured that was a little overkill.”
“Good instinct,” Emmett agrees.
“It’s, like, magical, Emmett,” Elle says, her voice dreamy and wistful. “Everything is sparkling and white!”
“Yeah, that’s what snow does.”
“Oh, you don’t get it. You’ve had it your whole life!” Elle complains. “It’s different for me, like… you know that song White Christmas?”
“Never heard of it,” Emmett replies sarcastically.
“Oh, shut up,” Elle laughs. “The point is, it was one of my favorite Christmas songs. Every year, all I wanted was to go somewhere where we could have a snowy Christmas. You know, make snowmen and have snowball fights and curl up by the fireplace and make hot chocolate with marshmallows… All the cliches. Dreaming of a white Christmas, right? Well, look outside, Emmett!”
“Do I have to actually look? My bed is warm!” He groans.
“I never knew you were so lazy,” Elle scolds. “You’re always on my ass to pull all-nighters but you can’t even take--what--three steps to the window? I mean, your apartment is tiny, it can’t be more than that.”
“Well, I’m not in my apartment, but point taken,” Emmett sighs, standing up reluctantly and pulling open his curtains.
“Why aren’t you in your apartment?” Elle asks.
Emmett leans against the windowsill. “It’s Christmas. I’m at my mom’s,” he explains. “Looking out the window now, by the way.” He squints out at the five star view: their back alley; littered and dirty and a little bit broken. Nothing like the streets around Harvard. Nothing like the streets that Elle is used to seeing. “What am I supposed to be looking for, again?”
“It’s snowing, Emmett!” She sounds so excited, so giddy, like she had the first time she’d aced one of Callaghan’s exams.
“That it is.”
“On Christmas!”
“I know!” Emmett tries to muster some of the same excitement, but, growing up poor in the Northeast, all snow meant was struggling to keep warm and pay heating bills and get to work or to school when the streets haven’t been ploughed. Besides, the snow in a city quickly turns brown, so the white Christmas look never really lasted very long anyway.
“Your lack of excitement is seriously ruining this for me,” Elle complains.
“I’m sorry,” Emmett sighs. “I’m trying, I swear.”
“Where’s your Christmas spirit?” she asks.
“It doesn’t wake up until at least seven.”
“Fine, you can go back to sleep now.”
“No,” Emmett responds, a little too quickly. “No, I’m already up.”
“Good,” Elle says. “That was actually a test.”
Emmett laughs and sits back down on the bed. “I passed, then?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
The line goes silent for a while, but it’s not an awkward sort of silence. It’s rich and calm and natural. It’s the kind of silence that deepens a conversation, like a well-placed rest in one of Mozart’s sonatas. “I’ve been using your Christmas present, by the way.”
“Oh yeah?” Emmett grins.
“Yeah,” Elle says, a little dreamily. “You were right. Real time-saver.”
“I told you,” Emmett gloats.
“Why do you always have to be right?”
“I don’t know,” Emmett shrugs. “I just am.”
“It’s annoying.”
“Can’t help it!”
“Still annoying.”
Emmett laughs and shakes his head. “If you don’t like it, don’t call me at 6am on Christmas.”
“Fine. I’ll hang up then.”
“Fine. Hang up then.”
“Maybe I will.”
“Maybe.”
She doesn’t respond, but Emmett doesn’t hang up, waiting patiently for: “Emmett? You still there?”
“I thought you were hanging up!”
“No, you didn’t,” Elle sighs.
“No, you’re right, I didn’t,” he concedes.
“So you admit you were lying. And on Jesus’s birthday, no less. Shame on you.”
“You know, he was actually probably born in spring.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s really the point,” Elle says. “I think it’s more of a symbolic thing...”
“Those ancient Jews and their goddamn symbolism.”
Elle laughs. “Such a bias towards English majors.”
“To be fair, that’s basically all an English major is useful for.”
“You’re right. Let’s give ‘em this one.”
It continues on like this for a while: natural and easy. It amazes him that he’s only known her for a few months. Talking to her is like talking to a childhood best friend. There’s never a second of awkwardness or not knowing what to say. Like they’re already familiar with every nook and cranny of each other’s brains, even if he doesn’t even know what her middle name is.
At around 7, Emmett can hear his mom; up and bustling around the kitchen. “I should go. My mom just started making breakfast.”
“Okay,” Elle says sadly.
“What are you doing today?” Emmett asks.
“I don’t know. I’ve never not been home for the holidays. I was just going to read about some more cases that were resolved a hundred years ago, then call my family to say merry Christmas at some point.”
“You should come over,” Emmett suggests. “Celebrate Christmas with us.”
“I thought I was supposed to spend the whole break with my nose in a book.”
“Well, we all need a break at least once a century, don’t we? Even you.”
Elle hesitates. “I couldn’t put you out like that.”
“You wouldn’t be,” Emmett assures her. “My mom would love to meet you. I would love to have you around. And we always have way too much food, anyway. She always makes a Christmas feast meant for fifteen at least.”
“That rhymed,” Elle points out.
“I’m a poet,” Emmett laughs. “So, when should I expect you?”
“Just need a coat, then I’m on my way.”
Emmett grins widely. “Can’t wait.”
About 45 minutes later, there are bagels and cream cheese and scrambled eggs and a jug of orange juice laid out on the kitchen table, and he hears the knock at the door.
“Coming!” Emmett calls, rushing to the front of the apartment. He pulls open the door to reveal Elle, flushed and shivering from the cold. “Merry Christmas!” she says through gritted teeth, holding out an expensive-looking bottle of wine with a big pink bow plastered to the front.
Emmett takes it from her and raises an eyebrow. “Experiencing the wonders of a white Christmas, I see.”
“Yeah, when I’m out here freezing my butt off it kind of loses its charm, honestly.”
She’s wearing a bright pink peacoat and a fluffy white scarf and there’s snow falling around her head and landing on her blush-colored beanie. And there’s something about the early morning light and the halo of glittering white flakes… she looks beautiful. Even with the bright red nose that’s starting to run and the red-rimmed eyes, puffy from wind-induced tears, she looks so damn beautiful. “I don’t know,” Emmett says, beckoning her inside. “I think I’m starting to see it.”
“See what?” Elle asks.
Emmett turns to her and smiles. “The magic.”