Work Text:
Their first real Christmas together is magical to say the least. Vermont during winter is everything Jamie could have ever hoped for: it’s cold (though nothing compared to English weather), everything is covered with a soft layer of snow, and their bustling neighborhood is filled with colorful lights and carolers. The lease of the old bakery on Main street – now empty and soon to be filled with every kind of flower Jamie can think of – lies on the counter next to the note Dani has left her.
out buying a few things for tonight,
be back soon
xoxo
She smiles holding the piece of paper between her fingers and chucks it in her pocket, as a reminder to later store it behind her sock drawer along with every other piece of Dani she can keep. It’s become a habit now, almost an unconscious reflex for her to collect all the little things Dani leaves behind: good morning post it notes, a broken keychain she bought when they visited the Grand Canyon, dried flowers clasped between the pages of Jamie’s favorite book. They all lay together in a messy folder, in the event that Dani might one day disappear.
(Or worse, in the event that Jamie might one day forget)
Memory is a tricky thing. Some awful moments stay with us forever, others drift away as soon as they’re over – leaving us with a lingering sensation, like the one that comes when one tries to remember a dream that just seconds before seemed so vivid and as soon as it’s over, becomes nothing but a blur.
Jamie knows this too well, since memory hasn’t exactly been kind to her. She can remember Mikey’s high pitched screams when she had walked through the unlocked front door on that terrible Monday afternoon as if he was still there now, forever the four-year-old with red cheeks and red hair – so different from her own – crying out for a mother who would never come back, but can’t for the love of God recall her and Dani’s first conversation.
So she clings to the bits she has, just in case.
The teapot whistles loudly in the empty house and Jamie clears her mind from frightful thoughts of losing Dani to the Beast. After all, it’s Christmas. With that in mind, she wanders back to their bedroom and takes out from under the bed a neatly wrapped present. She shakes it a little to make sure that its content is still there, then places it back in its place. As much as she loves the festive air and thick sweaters, the whole giving presents thing still manages to scare the shit out of her.
She tells herself it’s a totally rational fear since she has never actually given a Christmas present to anyone. Well, anyone who mattered anyway. And Dani matters, she matters so much to her. More than she ever thought a person could.
The creaky door lock announces her girlfriend’s return and Jamie walks back to the entrance just in time to see Dani come in, her cheeks flushed and her blonde ponytail sprinkled with snowflakes. She looks like a beautiful icicle, shivering from head to toe.
“It’s snowing like crazy outside, I almost didn’t make it back.” She takes off her purple jacket and shakes her head to try and get some snow off of it, while Jamie gently helps her warm up. Dani’s nose is like ice against the crook of her neck and she startles slightly at its feeling on her skin, before pulling back to kiss its rosy tip. “I made tea, you want some?”
A simple nod from Dani prompts Jamie to pour a second hot cup next to hers and handing it to her girlfriend, but not before having added some milk and sugar –three spoons exactly, for her sweet American princess.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Dani says roaming through her bag and taking out a plastic object, “I stopped by the video store on my way back and rented this.” She holds up a copy of White Christmas and Jamie’s lips stretch into a wide smile. Dani lowers her head embarrassed and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “I remembered you mentioning it was one of your favorite Christmas movies. I don’t know, I thought it would be nice to watch it together.”
As Jamie’s fingers trace the cover, her mind transports her back into Martha Carr’s house, the two of them sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. They had watched White Christmas together for three Christmases in a row: on the fourth, Martha’s father had gotten a job in the city and they had moved away. Still, the far-away, almost imaginary Vermont had always struck her as the happiest place on earth.
Looking at Dani next to her, Jamie thinks her seven-year-old self wasn’t so far off: from what she’s seen, Vermont really is a happy place. Especially thanks to the blonde au pair she’s chosen to share her life with.
She places the VHS on the coffee table and leans in for a small kiss, “Thank you.”
And it should be simple, she should be happy. Warm tea, White Christmas, Dani in her arms…but Jamie is scared to get used to this feeling. Will they get to have Christmas traditions? Watch the lights out of their window illuminate the streets? Hang a wreath on their door again? How many times are they allowed to watch White Christmas before Dani has to go? Back to Bly and that muddy lake Jamie dreams about almost every night.
“Are you okay?”
Dani’s soothing voice snaps her out of her thoughts and Jamie smiles, running a thumb over the back of Dani’s cold hand. “Couldn’t be better.” It’s a half lie, only because Jamie knows she’s supposed to be the anchor, the line to Dani’s kite – the one thing keeping her from floating away – and she’s prepared to do so for as many years as they will get. Though she must admit that lately the voice in the back of her head (even deadlier than the one of a ghost) has been telling her to just run. Run like she used to do before, quick on her feet between the streets of London: they used to call her Jamie “Owens”, like the Olympic legend, for her notorious skill. But the voice becomes a faded echo whenever she hears Dani laughing in the kitchen or reading under the warm covers of their bed.
She can’t run, where else would she go?
Her attention darts back to the woman sitting next to her when Dani mentions that she’s bought some mistletoe to hang around the house. “You’re probably going to hate it because it’s synthetic but it was the only one they had left.”
It looks fake alright, but Jamie doesn’t really mind when the outcome is getting to kiss Dani even more than usual. They’ll make up for this plastic atrocity next year, after she’ll have planted real mistletoe for their new shop.
“I haven’t kissed anyone under the mistletoe since I was nineteen,” Jamie jokes remembering the awkward peck she had given one of her friends after too much spiked eggnog in the shitty apartment of whoever’s turn it was to host Christmas that year. Dani laughs and stares at the small plant in her hands. “I’ve never been kissed under the mistletoe,” she confesses after a few seconds while biting the inside of her cheek.
Jamie raises an eyebrow at her statement as if to ask really? and Dani simply nods, still holding the mistletoe between her fingers. It seems like there’s only one logical thing Jamie can do at this point. “We can fix that right now,” she says before lifting Dani’s arm until fake red berries are hanging right above their heads. She leans in slowly and kisses Dani carefully, wanting her first mistletoe kiss to be special. Dani sighs into her mouth and Jamie’s lips curve into a smile. They part, and their foreheads touch quietly – basking in this little moment they’ve created for as long as they can.
“I’m glad I waited for you.”
Dani breaks the silence first, and Jamie knows she’s referring to a stupid Christmas ritual, yet somehow feels that the words she’s just spoken contain a deeper meaning. She closes her arms around Dani’s waist and concurs.
“Yeah, me too.”