Merry Ex-Mas

by Courtney Walsh

Good grief, she’s gorgeous. I pray that she doesn’t catch me staring. She used to do that all the time when we were kids.

Good grief, she’s gorgeous. I pray that she doesn’t catch me staring. She used to do that all the time when we were kids.

me. I force myself not to break eye contact. Truthfully, I’ve always loved sparring with Marin. I’m not intimidated by her fire. Her beauty? Well, that’s another story. I study her face—a face I know so well it shows up in my dreams. She’s so beautiful and feisty, and. . .

me. I force myself not to break eye contact. Truthfully, I’ve always loved sparring with Marin. I’m not intimidated by her fire. Her beauty? Well, that’s another story. I study her face—a face I know so well it shows up in my dreams. She’s so beautiful and feisty, and. . .

you traveled the world? We were supposed to do that together!

quite the opposite. The fact was, I loved Marin too much. And I’m afraid that hasn’t changed.

I’d also pause it on her left hand and look for signs of a relationship.

I stare inside, realizing I’m about to get into a confined space with the enemy, and that enemy is wearing a flirtatious grin as easy as his flannel shirt.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Max,” I say lightly. “I don’t need to,” he says. “You flatter me every time you look at me pretending like you don’t care.”

And how can I be so angry with him and so drawn to him at the same time?

“Flirting?” he says in the pause. “Right,” I say. “Fake flirting. Can you handle that?” “I’m down.” I know he’s being purposely agreeable to offset my accidental frustration. “Great,” I say again, for lack of a better closer. I stand, this time putting space between me and the table to avoid the risk of physical contact. “But Marin?” he says as I walk past. I stop. “Yeah?” He gives me a slight wince. “It’s probably not going to be fake for me.” Our eyes meet, and I feel the electrical current of a familiar, forgotten spark.

Max is a good person. I hate that he is, but he is. But that doesn’t make him good for me.

Memories, certain ones, have a way of zipping together the past and the present. What was once completely separate is now entangled. What you felt then, you feel now, and you’re unable to pull them apart.

Time doesn’t heal all wounds. Time gives you distance and perspective. The time we had wasn’t enough, but it wasn’t nothing. I lived twenty-two amazing years as their son. And that was a gift.

As if I minded. I’d take any chance I got to have her in my arms—even if it was an accident.

“Look, everyone’s got history. Everyone has baggage. If you’re lucky enough to find someone willing to lug it around for you, you should let them.

It’s hard when the one place on the planet with the most pain is the same place that feels the most like home.

I could be wrong, but this doesn’t feel like a show. It doesn’t feel like pretend. It feels like my connection to Marin is still repaired, like she and I are back in our own world, the one where everyone else drifts away. I like it.

“I told you, Marin, it wasn’t going to be pretend for me.”

He faces me now. “I tried to go along with it, but I can’t. Letting you go was the stupidest mistake I ever made.”