of pine from the Christmas tree.
I watched the lights on the Christmas tree twinkle it followed a series of patterns. The floor in her lounge was polished wood, with a large white woolen rug on it. The only heat was emanating from the fireplace, it seemed everywhere else was cold.
I lived in a same type of house growing up. It brought back memories of the Christmas struggle. I felt the tense palpitations in my chest. My jaw clenched. My right eye twitched.
Felicity poked my arm and said, “Here’s your glass,”
“Thanks.”
I sat on the rug and then Felicity sat beside me, her knees up against her chest and I glanced at her toes which were painted red with silver glitter.
I smiled. “Attention to detail as always.”
Felicity smiled and took a sip from her glass. She looked different. She had a different pair of glasses with a square style frame that suited her face.
“I love the new glasses.”
“Thank you, Chad. I look less like a nerd don’t I?”
I laughed. “A lot less…”
There was a crackle in the fireplace and my eyes shifted to it for a moment. I made the decision to wait until the next day to tell her about the investigation. I was confident she was not guilty of any wrongdoing.
Felicity smoothed the surface of her arms to spread the tingling heat of the fire as she said, “You looked like a stunned mullet, you know, before I gave you your glass. What is it about Christmas you don’t like?”
I exhaled, adjusting the knot on my tie. I removed my coat to get comfortable and couldn’t help fidgeting with the cufflinks of my shirt.
She put her hand on my wrist. “Chad?”
“Sorry… Before I got shunted to a foster home, I got to have my last Christmas with my real parents. It was all like this. The Christmas tree, the fireplace. Presents. We even had stockings on top. My mother made sure there was something to give. Even though we were so hard up. Poor and broke, because my father wasted his money on booze and cigarettes.
“I use to say to Mom to put out the fire so Santa could come down the chimney. She didn’t because it was the only heating we had and it had a wetback system that heated our water. She used to open the window and say Santa would come in through and give me my present. My dad used to joke that Santa was too much of a fat cunt to fit.
“I'd stay up late watching the window for Santa to arrive, my eyes drooping, fighting the fatigue to keep my eyes open. I'd ask Santa for a bike for Christmas. I use to tell my parents that I was so good that Santa was bringing it for me. I remember showing them my school report, the proud look on my mother’s face. Being five at the time you don’t realise the family hardship. Little did I know the bike was so expensive and we had no money, that I had my hopes up for nothing.
“I woke up on Christmas day to see a large box wrapped up. Gosh, I remember screaming that Santa had come. The feeling of joy was unexplainable, my mom came down the stairs wondering what the commotion was about and my dad was in the kitchen with bottle of beer. Drunk.
“I felt like it was a kid’s dream come true. I ran over to the big box and started tearing away at the packaging. Bit by bit the wrapping paper came off. It was wrapped in multiple layers of Christmas paper, then newspaper. There were so many layers, but I was so excited. I remember the snickering and snorting from my dad in the kitchen, my mother thought he finally did something decent.” I paused, my hands curled into a fist. My teeth gritted.
Felicity said, “It was an empty box? Wasn’t it.”
I nodded, “I looked up to my father, who burst out laughing when I cried. I was so filthy with the cocksucker. My mother came to comfort me. She growled at him for being so cruel, and he went into a rage. He hit my mom and when she fell to the floor the bells and the Christmas decorations on the Christmas tree fell on her. The lights flashed, and the angel on top fell in front of me. Dad
I watched the lights on the Christmas tree twinkle it followed a series of patterns. The floor in her lounge was polished wood, with a large white woolen rug on it. The only heat was emanating from the fireplace, it seemed everywhere else was cold.
I lived in a same type of house growing up. It brought back memories of the Christmas struggle. I felt the tense palpitations in my chest. My jaw clenched. My right eye twitched.
Felicity poked my arm and said, “Here’s your glass,”
“Thanks.”
I sat on the rug and then Felicity sat beside me, her knees up against her chest and I glanced at her toes which were painted red with silver glitter.
I smiled. “Attention to detail as always.”
Felicity smiled and took a sip from her glass. She looked different. She had a different pair of glasses with a square style frame that suited her face.
“I love the new glasses.”
“Thank you, Chad. I look less like a nerd don’t I?”
I laughed. “A lot less…”
There was a crackle in the fireplace and my eyes shifted to it for a moment. I made the decision to wait until the next day to tell her about the investigation. I was confident she was not guilty of any wrongdoing.
Felicity smoothed the surface of her arms to spread the tingling heat of the fire as she said, “You looked like a stunned mullet, you know, before I gave you your glass. What is it about Christmas you don’t like?”
I exhaled, adjusting the knot on my tie. I removed my coat to get comfortable and couldn’t help fidgeting with the cufflinks of my shirt.
She put her hand on my wrist. “Chad?”
“Sorry… Before I got shunted to a foster home, I got to have my last Christmas with my real parents. It was all like this. The Christmas tree, the fireplace. Presents. We even had stockings on top. My mother made sure there was something to give. Even though we were so hard up. Poor and broke, because my father wasted his money on booze and cigarettes.
“I use to say to Mom to put out the fire so Santa could come down the chimney. She didn’t because it was the only heating we had and it had a wetback system that heated our water. She used to open the window and say Santa would come in through and give me my present. My dad used to joke that Santa was too much of a fat cunt to fit.
“I'd stay up late watching the window for Santa to arrive, my eyes drooping, fighting the fatigue to keep my eyes open. I'd ask Santa for a bike for Christmas. I use to tell my parents that I was so good that Santa was bringing it for me. I remember showing them my school report, the proud look on my mother’s face. Being five at the time you don’t realise the family hardship. Little did I know the bike was so expensive and we had no money, that I had my hopes up for nothing.
“I woke up on Christmas day to see a large box wrapped up. Gosh, I remember screaming that Santa had come. The feeling of joy was unexplainable, my mom came down the stairs wondering what the commotion was about and my dad was in the kitchen with bottle of beer. Drunk.
“I felt like it was a kid’s dream come true. I ran over to the big box and started tearing away at the packaging. Bit by bit the wrapping paper came off. It was wrapped in multiple layers of Christmas paper, then newspaper. There were so many layers, but I was so excited. I remember the snickering and snorting from my dad in the kitchen, my mother thought he finally did something decent.” I paused, my hands curled into a fist. My teeth gritted.
Felicity said, “It was an empty box? Wasn’t it.”
I nodded, “I looked up to my father, who burst out laughing when I cried. I was so filthy with the cocksucker. My mother came to comfort me. She growled at him for being so cruel, and he went into a rage. He hit my mom and when she fell to the floor the bells and the Christmas decorations on the Christmas tree fell on her. The lights flashed, and the angel on top fell in front of me. Dad
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