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It was early December, and Madeline and Helen were curled up on their couch. Even though it was still 70° in Los Angeles, they had their fireplace on, thanks to their inability to produce bodily warmth.
Just half an hour earlier, Madeline had practically dragged Helen down the stairs, forcing her to watch Love Actually—one of her favorite holiday movies.
Well, Madeline was watching the movie; Helen’s focus was on the blonde hair sprawled all over her lap.
“Are you excited for Christmas, Hel?” Madeline asked, eyes remaining on the screen in front of her.
Helen just kept stroking her hair. “That’s funny, Mad.”
The blonde sat up and tilted her head in confusion. “How so?”
“We’re dead.”
“So?” Madeline gasped in offense.
“Are we really going to celebrate every holiday forever?”
“Why the hell not?”
“It’s stupid.”
“But Hellyyy,” Madeline whined, “we’re spending Christmas together.”
“It’s not the first time, Mad.”
“Well, it’s the first since we’ve been like,” Madeline waved her hands between her neck and Helen’s abdomen, “you know… this.”
“Dead?”
The blonde let out a puff of air in annoyance.
“Fine, Helen. If you wish to be so blunt, then yes, this is our first Christmas together since you brutally murdered me.”
“You fell,” the redhead shrugged, trying her best to hide the growing smirk on her face.
Madeline rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and that shotgun fired itself.”
The two women looked at each other for a couple of moments before bursting out into laughter.
“Seriously, though,” Helen placed her hand on Madeline’s shoulder, “I don’t really do holidays anymore.”
Madeline frowned. “Since when?”
“Since I’ve spent the last couple either locked up or plotting your murder.”
“Ah,” Madeline nodded, her gaze dropping.
Helen sighed. “But if you really want to…”
“Oh, yay!” The blonde jumped up excitedly and began to skip around the couch before circling back to her best friend, wrapping her in a hug.
“I’ll find us something to do, Hel. You won’t be bored and sad, I promise.”
“Whatever you say, Mad.”
It had been a few days since their initial conversation about Christmas and decorations had already begun to slowly creep into their house.
First, it was just a wreath on the front door.
Innocent enough, Helen had thought and walked past without saying a word.
Then, she walked into the house one day after a morning out and noticed a combination of garland and lights hanging from the stair railing.
Blinded by the red and green, she immediately looked to the blonde on the couch, who simply smirked.
“Mad…” she started.
“What?” Madeline asked with faux innocence. “You said we could do Christmas.”
Now, somehow within the last 24 hours, a fully decorated 8-foot tree appeared in their living room.
Helen was walking down the stairs when a giant, green mass adorned with pink and leopard-print ornaments caught her eye.
Upon seeing it, all she could think about was not only how big of an eye sore it was, but also the striking resemblance between Madeline and the blonde angel that resided on the top of this monstrosity.
Of course, she’s the star.
Still—remembering the conversation that they had—she ignored the urge to kick it over and instead grabbed her book and took a seat on the couch.
Helen was only a couple of pages in when she noticed the gentle clicks of high heels cascading down the stairs. It was only a few moments later when she felt petite arms wrapping around her shoulders.
The redhead didn’t look up from her book. “What do you want, Mad?”
Before she knew it, the arms grabbed the book from her hands and tossed it onto the coffee table.
She whipped around. “I was reading that.”
Madeline started to giggle. “Well, not anymore.”
“Bitch!”
Madeline ignored her and continued. “I know what we could do for Christmas.”
“Oh, gee,” she said in mock enthusiasm, all her previous patience dissolving at the interruption. “What brilliant idea has your oh so intelligent mind come up with this time?”
“Oh, shut up,” she lightly smacked the redhead’s shoulder, then walked over to stand in front of her.
After a couple of moments waiting for Helen to provide Madeline with her full attention, she finally put her hands together and excitedly said: “I was thinking we could go ice skating!”
Helen narrowed her eyes and stared at her like she was speaking a different language.
“You know…” she looked at Helen hopefully and joined her on the couch, straddling her hips, “just like we used to in college.”
Helen pushed a piece of loose hair behind the blonde's ear and let out a soft smile before replying: “No.”
“Ugh,” the blonde flung herself off her best friend's lap and onto the cushion next to her. “You never want to do anything fun.”
The redhead turned her body to face her. “Mad,” she grabbed the girl’s chin, forcing her to make eye contact. “We can’t go ice skating.”
Madeline tilted her head and jutted her lower lip out. “Pleaseee Helen,” she pouted.
She sighed and started to reach back for her book when a hand slapped hers away. She looked back at Madeline and raised her eyebrow.
She knew Madeline wasn’t catching on to the point she was trying to make. “What if we fall?”
“Helen, you weren’t even that bad at it. You really need to give yourself more credit.”
“That’s not—“
She waved her hand in dismissal. “I mean, you weren’t as good as me, but still.”
Helen shook her head, annoyed at her best friend’s lack of understanding.
“No, Mad.” She grabbed the blonde’s middle finger and held on. “What. If. We. Fall?”
Madeline looked at her in confusion before Helen ripped it clean off.
“Hey!!!” The blonde screamed.
She waved the girl’s finger around. “Look how easy it was to do that! Imagine what would happen if you fell on the ice.”
The blonde snatched her finger back and huffed. “You know, for a writer, you’re really bad at using your words.”
Helen let out a small laugh and looked at Madeline with amusement.
“This isn’t funny,” the girl crossed her arms. “You’re going to have to reattach this.”
“Fine,” Helen stood up, “I’ll get the glue.”
But Madeline didn’t move. She just sat and stared at her finger before eventually smirking.
This time, she looked at her confused.
“Actually, Helen,” she stood up, detached finger in tow, “you can hold off on the glue.”
“Do I even want to know?” She called out to the blonde, who was now skipping back up the stairs towards their bedrooms.
Madeline whipped around and leaned on the staircase. “I don’t know, Helen,” she dropped her voice and winked. “Do you?”
Helen’s mouth dropped in realization. “God, Mad, that’s disgusting.”
“Oh, don’t be a prude. It’s not like it’s yours.” She shrugged and kept walking.
Helen just stared at her until the blonde disappeared from her view at the top of the stairs.
“And don’t wait up!” Madeline yelled before laughing and slamming the door.
Helen was lying in bed later that afternoon when she heard her door open and was greeted by a garment flying straight at her head.
“Put that on,” Madeline bossed. “And be in the car in 5.”
Helen stared at the sweater in her hands. “Mad—”
“Just do it!” the blonde yelled down the hallway.
Five minutes later, give or take, Helen trotted into the garage. The back windows of a black SUV rolled down to reveal none other than Madeline—wearing the exact same sweater.
“Why are we—”
Madeline rolled her eyes. “Just get in, bitch!”
Helen opened the car door, but the blonde shook her head.
“Other side, Hel. You know my left side is my best, what if my fans see me?”
The redhead grunted and retreated to the other side.
“Where are we even going?” she asked while buckling in.
“You know, we don’t really have to wear those anymore. It’s not like a car accident would kill us.”
“Mad.”
“Would be a real bitch to fix up though,” she muttered under her breath.
“Mad?” she repeated.
The blonde huffed in annoyance. “You’ll just have to see when we get there.”
The partition was up in the car, giving the women privacy to talk about aspects of their conditions they otherwise couldn’t share around others.
While Helen was really tempted to ask Madeline about the finger, she resisted, knowing that whatever the blonde was going to respond with would be entirely too much.
Eventually the conversation died and they rode in comfortable silence.
All of the sudden, Helen spotted lights of all different shapes and colors out the corner of her eye.
A small smile tugged at her lips. “Mad?”
“Uh huh, Hel?” Madeline replied, glancing ahead at the street.
“Did you take me to look at Christmas lights?”
“I did,” Madeline said, her voice softening as she stole a quick glance at Helen.
The redhead’s smile faltered as a lump grew in her throat, but she never took her eyes off the lights outside.
The women rode in silence for a bit. Helen never looked away from her window; Madeline never looked away from Helen.
“You okay, Hel?” she asked gently, reaching across the seat between them to squeeze Helen’s hand.
“Yeah… I’m fine,” she whispered. She then turned slightly, resting her head against the window and letting her gaze linger on the lights streaming past.
Madeline didn’t let go of her hand. “You really like ‘em, huh?”
“They’re ephemeral.”
“They’re ep-e-what?” Madeline echoed.
“Unlike us, these lights won’t be here forever.”
The blonde scooted over and rested her head on her best friend's shoulder, sighing contentedly.
“I like that, Hel.”
Helen finally looked at her and planted a kiss on her best friend’s forehead. “Me too, Mad.”
It was late at night when Madeline heard a knock at her bedroom door.
“Come in,” she called.
Helen appeared at the doorway, one hand behind her back. “Hey, Mad?”
“Yeah, Hel?”
“Could you, um,” the redhead uncovered her hand and looked down in embarrassment, “help me?”
Madeline looked down and gasped. Helen’s finger was popped out of place.
“Oh my god. You’re trying to—”
“You did it first!”
“Fine, I will.” The blonde smirked. “As long as I can give you a demonstration.”
“Madeline!!!”
“What? I don’t want it getting lost up there.”
“Mhm…”
After a couple of minutes of struggling, Madeline managed to detach her best friend’s finger.
Immediately upon removing it, she threw it in her best friend’s lap. “Could you have at least kept it in one piece?”
“Sorry, I’m not that violent, Helen.”
Helen looked down at the gaping hole in her stomach. “Seriously?”
Helen gathered both parts of her finger and stood up.
Before she left, she stopped at the doorway, pausing to laugh at the ridiculousness that was their life.
“Well, have fun, Hel. Maybe don’t use that one,” Madeline added. “I would certainly hate having to dig through your hole to find it.”
“I’m sure you would.”
Madeline side eyed her.
“Hate that, I mean.”
As she walked away, she heard the blonde shout, “Just imagine what we could do with my head!”