Page 13 of Love Letters to Christmas

“Yet you’re scared you don’t deserve it, so you’re cutting yourself off by choosing guilt for wanting more instead of hope that you could have everything.”

May…be? I wrap myself in a hug and refuse to look at the screen. “Loving him is…so easy it’s hard. And terrifying.” Breath shakes through my lungs. “I know you don’t get it, Ceres, but he is just…such a beautiful person.”

“I get it,” she says. “Being captivated by how beautiful aperson can be…that I get.” Her gaze is fixed on Mars when I find the strength to look at her. Watching him, she continues, “It’s hard to feel like enough when someone else’s beauty seems to shed light on your flaws.” Her attention returns to me. “I think the most astounding part, though, is when that person looks at you and sees who you are. Every flaw included. And says you’re the most beautiful person they’ve ever met, too.”

A tear falls down my cheek as another catches on my lashes. I cannot even begin to picture that happening with Brian. After all, one of my biggest flaws where he’s concerned is the fact that I am flesh and blood, not mail.

To him, nothing could possibly be as beautiful as mail.

My heart skips a beat as the sound of the front door opening informs me that Brian is back from his work outing with all the department heads. Chest tight, I snatch my phone and sit up to whisper, “I’m sorry. He’s back. I gotta go.”

“Okay. See you.”

“I miss you,” I say, quickly, swallowing hard.

Ceres looks at me for a long moment, probably thinking about how we would only see each other once a month whenever she’d pick up her grocery order at Walmart and I’d bring it out to her car. Nothing else about our relationship has changed with distance. Nothing else at all. We neverwent out. We neverdid anything together. And, yet, not being in the same town as her feels like a canyon has opened up between us.

At least.

To me.

Sincerely, there’s no reason for Ceres to nod and say, “Yeah. I miss you, too, Mellie. We’ll see each other soon, though, okay?”

“Soon,” I echo, and force a smile, because in a month and a half when she gets married isn’t exactly what I’d considersoon, but if it saves my sanity, I’ll pretend it is.

Chapter Six

I know what to fill a sheath with.These feelings!Nyeh!

Amelia

I’ve never been to a renaissance faire before. Probably because I’ve never been to much of anything before. My parents didn’t really like me hanging out with anyone, because for some reason no matter what friends I tried to make, everyone was a bad influence.

Looking back on it all, I wonder if they believed half of what they told me, or if almost everything was just lies meant to control what I did while protecting themselves from outsiders who might learn that something in our relationship wasn’t entirelyright.

After all, it didn’t take long for Ceres to casually mention things that made me question how normal it was for them to treat me the way they did. Even though she was always somewhat impartial, it’s because of her I started compiling a list, reviewing it, and wondering.

It’s because of her I began searching for answers and recognizing less-than-healthy behaviors, and it’s because of her help and support that I got out.

Without her, I wouldn’t have moved in with Brian.

Without her, I wouldn’t be here, looking ahead at a massive renaissance fair, and thinking…how nice it is to befree.

These kinds of feelings come and go, surrounded constantly by an overpowering guilt mixed with dread, but for right now, I’m grateful. I’m glad. Idon’t careif I never speak to my parentsagain. I’m not sure I ever want to be anywhere near them again. I’m scared of being in a place they can even reach me. Now that there’s some distance, it’s all so much clearer. They hurt me. A lot. Constantly. And it wasn’tmy fault. Because Brian doesn’t hurt me. And Ceres doesn’t. And no one at work treats me like they did.

Even if they are an era past, the future is so, so bright.

So…sobright.

Sun shimmering all around him, Brian turns toward me, tips his newsboy hat, and grips his leather mail bag as he rubs at some grease makeup on his nose. “What do you want to do first, A-mail-ia?”

Breathe.

I want to breathe.

While I manage my breaths, I scan the stalls scattered up and down the dusty streets. Booths manned by fairies. Furnaces roaring beside blacksmiths. Turkey legs half the size of my body roasting on spits.

People in mushroom hats pass elves in long cloaks. Knights on horses trot down the throughway.

---