Page 129 of Chasing Infinity

“Why do you have it?” I ask her, intrigued she would keep such a dangerous plant around.

She shrugs her shoulder and then goes back to gardening. “I like to have a little of this and a little of that. Go on, find some gloves and help me get the rest of these weeds.”

I do as she says, and soon, I’m next to her, yanking at the invasive little green weeds that are trying to suck the life out of her precious plants.

“How’d your list go?” Trish asks me after a while.

I lean back and wipe off the sweat forming on my forehead with the back of my hand. “Good, that’s actually why I came out here. I think I know what I want to do.”

“Oh yeah?” she asks, sitting back again. “Let’s hear it.”

“You might think I’m crazy, but I think I want to start working towards becoming law enforcement.”

Aunt Trish stares at me a moment, studying my face. Then she wipes away a stray curl. “Why would I think that’s crazy?”

“Well, that’s not all of it,” I tell her. She raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue. “I want to go into law enforcement,andI want to be the one who brings my father to justice.”

Chapter 32

Addison

Addison - Age 21

“Merry Christmas, Addie,” Grace says, sitting next to me and offering me a paper to-go cup.

I take it gratefully and offer her a smile, the warmth from the cup seeping into my gloved hands and warming the tips of my fingers. My nose catches a whiff of the rich hot chocolate inside, and I raise it up to my lips, taking a tentative sip of the warm drink. “Thank you. Merry Christmas to you too.”

“Why are you sitting over here by yourself?”

Shrugging a shoulder, I look back at the square where people are bustling about, visiting the vendors and counting down the minutes until the big moment. Willow Heights appears magical tonight, with the soft dusting of snow covering the ground and the Christmas lights twinkling on every solid surface. But despite it all, I’m not feeling in the Christmas spirit tonight. “I always kind of get a bit nostalgic when it comes to Christmas.”

Grace nods her head, offering me silent support. Usually, she heads up North to visit with her grandmother for the holidays, but this year she decided to stay in town. Though I’ve never outwardly said it, I always get a little sad when she leaves for Christmas. We’ve been living together in a small apartment for the last few years, and whenever she’s not there, everything feels a little dimmer. “I get it. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be.”

“It’s never easy,” I acknowledge. “But it’s getting a little more manageable with every year that passes. It’s just so hard to wake up during the Christmas season and think about how I used to have all these fun traditions with my parents, and now… Now it just feels like any other day.”

A memory flashes in my mind of making ‘Christmas Countdown Chain’ every year with my mom with paper rings made out of red and green construction paper. Growing up, I would get so excited as soon as December hit, knowing that Christmas was coming soon. As each day would pass, my mom and I would end our night tearing off one of the paper rings, watching the chain get shorter and shorter as Christmas approached.

It’s those little things that I miss, like waking up to the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls, or helping my mom decorate the giant tree in the living room, finding the perfect spot for each ornament. My mom would go all out for my favorite holiday, taking every opportunity to make the season special.

“Now you have traditions with Charlie and Eli,” Grace says encouragingly, nudging my shoulder in an attempt to lighten up the mood. “And me this year, if you’ll let me in on the fun.”

I offer her a brisk laugh and nod my head. “Of course. But you’re right. I’m just in my feelings.”

“I know, and that’s okay. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” she says. I lean towards her, pressing our shoulders together.

We sit in silence for a while, watching passersby and listening to the carolers at the end of the street. “I heard Eli might be rigging up a little mistletoe trap for you this year,” Grace says after a few minutes, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief.

I feel a blush form on my cheeks, and I cover my face with one mitted hand. “Oh god, I hope not.”

“Come on, sweetie. It couldn’t hurt to get out there a little bit more, you know? Even if it is just a kiss under the mistletoe.”

“With Eli?” I ask her, and I can’t help scrunch my nose up a little. Sure, I’ve kissed Eli before—almost a year ago we had a moment that turned into me spending the night in his bed. Eli was gentle and sweet, knowing it was my first time, and I’ll always share that experience with him. But when I think about sleeping with Eli or even just kissing him again, I don’t feel any type of anticipation deep inside me or the tingle of desire that runs from my toes to the tip of my nose.

“Well,” she shrugs, “he really likes you. I’d say you could do a lot worse.”

I could also do a lot better, I think to myself, but I bite my tongue and look back out at the giant Christmas tree waiting to be lit up.

Maybe Grace is right. Maybe it’s time I give myself a break and try and branch out a little bit. At the very worst, I could always tell Eli that I’m not looking for anything serious. It’s been a long time since Noah left, and I often wonder if I’m wasting my life just waiting for him. But when I reflect on our short time together, I know I’m not.

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