The few days of no slumber fell on January like the weight of an elephant. She vaguely remembered saying goodbye to someone and wishing them safe travels during the night, but she was too out of it to recall much. The only other time she had felt this lethargic was when she was in seventh grade and came down with the stomach flu. January remembered not being able to move because everything hurt, and that included moving her eyelids to blink.
Her eyes felt like lead weights as music filled her bedroom. Usually, Deckard turned off the annoying sound, but as it continued to play, she reached across the bed to shove him awake. The bed was cold where he slept. She pried open one of her eyes and noticed that his side of the bed hadn’t looked slept in much at all.
Then her dreams filtered through the back of her mind like a series of snapshots and she realized that they weren’t dreams at all. She had slept through Deckard leaving. Or she wasn’t coherent during Deckard leaving.
God, did she even kiss him goodbye? She asked herself.
She tried to remember all she could from the time they crawled into bed, but it was mostly small clips of him saying good-bye and kissing her fondly. The music in the background was distracting, so she reached across the bed to turn off the alarm.
But her hand paused mid-air. The chorus from “I’ll be Home for Christmas” played through the speakers. Her heart paused and breath caught. Blood began pumping through her veins at record speed.
January jumped away from the alarm clock as if it electrocuted her. She had to be imagining things. Shuffling off the bed, her feet tangled in the sheets and she fell on the floor, smacking her chin on the hard surface. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She had bit the inside of her cheek as she fell. January only had the chance to wince at the pain as she scissor kicked her legs free from the sheets.
Her house was small, the hallway narrow and short, but as she ran, January felt that the floor beneath her feet continued to grow more planks of wood - it seemed never ending. Finally, her hands gripped the corner of the wall where the hallway met the opening to her living room.
“Oh my gosh,” January murmured as she took in her space. Her hand covered her slack-jawed mouth as she looked around the room.
It was still decorated for Christmas, not much had changed, but then again, everything had changed. In the corner sat a beautiful Christmas tree, but it was missing the bucket and handmade decorations that she and Deckard had spent hours creating. Instead, a stoic classic tree her mother had placed and adorned with family ornaments took its place. The black and white string lights were switched for traditional white lights. Above the fireplace on the mantle, her mother’s Christmas village lit up proudly.
Everything was as it had been. January’s hand moved from her mouth to sink in her own hair as the realization of it all began to settle. Christmas had returned. Somehow, everything was as it was before.
January worried she had been living the worst kind of dream.
The snowflake ornament that had caused the transformation hung proudly in the center of her tree – staring and mocking her. She wanted to rip it from the branch and smash it into diminutive pieces, but as she approached and held it in her fingers, January couldn’t bring herself to do it. The only difference she noticed was the small brown tag missing from the ribbon.
Her shaking hand settled the ornament back in place and she continued to circle around her room in shock. January didn’t even know what day it was. Maybe nothing had changed and she really had been dreaming, but as she sprinted into the kitchen, her hope was quickly diminished. By a series of Xs marking down the days, the calendar clearly read that today was Christmas.
From the corner of her eye, January caught a glimpse of a bright red color coming from her dining area. The large buffet table was still sitting in the spot reserved for her smaller dining table, but the series of red and silver swirled candles sat where she had left them yesterday. Instead of the twigs of pine from the tree she and Deckard had chopped down, a row of fake pine garland wrapped around each of the centerpieces.
The idea that ev
erything changed back to how it should have been was quickly diminished as January touched the candles she had grabbed at Nick’s Knacks. She didn’t know what to think.
“Deckard!” she called out, hoping against all hope that maybe this meant he was still there. When there was no reply, she walked out to her living room and called out again. January knew that there was little chance of him still being in her house, but nothing was as it seemed.
Dismayed, January hung her head as she shuffled back to her bedroom. What hope she may have had moments ago disappeared, and as she sat on the edge of her bed, January focused on the wood grains of the floor. She pondered what all of it meant. When she had wished away Christmas, everyone had gone on living as if it had never existed, but she had remembered everything; she pondered if this was the same scenario all over again.
The song switched on the radio and “Last Christmas” began to play. January laughed sardonically at the choice. Deckard definitely took her heart with him.
Instead of shutting off the music, January crawled back under her covers, staring up at the ceiling as her head hit the pillow. She was afraid that she had truly gone mad. Impulsively, she turned her head and looked at the spot Deckard had slept the night before, or so she thought. The pillow and crumbled sheets looked as if someone had been there, but January couldn’t be sure, there was only a slight indentation where a body would have laid.
The tears began to build and spill over before she could stop them. As if her heart breaking last night wasn’t enough, she had to relive it again today. Her body curled into itself as she reached over to cradle the pillow where Deckard had rested his head against her chest.
Minutes passed as January cried for the loss of her love and time she couldn’t get back with him. These were soul-crushing sobs that left January exhausted and her eyes drifted closed as her mind lulled her back to sleep.
Darkness soothed her in a way nothing else could.
A ringing noise woke January with a start, and she tried to blink, but her crusty lids were sealed shut. The pitfalls of falling asleep while crying. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand then reached out to grab the phone, pressing the answer button without looking.
“Hello,” her scratchy voice greeted.
“Where are you, sweet pea?” her father asked.
In confusion, January asked, “What?”
“It’s Christmas, we’re all waiting on you.”
“Oh!” she sat up in bed with panic. “I’m sorry, I just. . .” she said, then she remembered what she had woken up to an hour ago - the loss of Deckard.