FicWad

Christmas was usually Lia's favorite time of year to be depressed. All the colorful twinkling lights gracing the eaves and doorways of the snow-sprinkled houses that looked frosted with sugar. The Nativity scenes set up in front yards using cheap plastic baubles with lightbulbs inserted. The customary beautifully decorated Christmas trees in front of fires crackling merrily in the living rooms of houses that you could see through frosted glass windowpanes. But Lia wandered down the street alone. She walked past the stores whose front windows were spray-painted with designs of reindeer with bulbous red noses, snowmen with jolly stovepipe hats, carrot noses, and rosy cheeks, and, if they were politically correct, a menorah and dreidl or two or some ribbons with Kwanzaa colors. Everyone she knew thought Christmas was the happiest time of the year, and Lia couldn't understand why. As she walked her snow boots made slushing sounds in the streets that were filled with melted snow covered with grime and tire treads. Occasionally some yellow snow for color. Thank you, neighborhood dogs.
Lia was even more depressed as she unlocked the door to her apartment, kicked the boots into a pile where they lay, dripping by the door, and sat down in a comfortable chair that could not entirely erase the imprint of the cold from her body. She unwrapped the warm black scarf from around her neck and put it and her winter coat in the closet. Lia's whole closet was filled with scarves. Her mother bought her one each year for Christmas, but Lia never wore any scarf but her favorite black one. The scarf presents were so predictable that soon Lia wouldn't even bother unwrapping them, she would just chuck them in the closet, Christmas wrapping paper and all.
The next morning Lia got up early and made herself a hot cup of coffee. Happy Christmas Eve, she thought to herself, and was even more depressed then usual. Everything around her seemed to blare out: CHRISTMAS IS HERE, and she hated it. She opened the door and cursed under her breath as a freezing cold gust of air wafted into the apartment. She picked up the newspaper and hobbled inside without even slippers to warm her feet from the hard stone of the apartment balcony that overlooked the street. Great view.
As Lia read the newspaper, she was shocked by how many stories had to do with Christmas this year. She picked up a piece of warm toast, spread it with butter, and pondered exactly when her hate of the holiday season had begun.
As a child she had loved it and eagerly awaited her presents from Santa even after catching her parents in the act of arranging the gifts under the tree when she was nine. She had gone home to visit her family in college and they had had joyous Christmas parties. Then she realized. Almost to the day of her graduation from college, her father had died. She could never forget it, just tried to put it out of her mind. But she never though about how much it had to do with the holidays.
After her father's death her family had tried to have a Christmas party, but it had ended unhappily, with her mother breaking down over the cranberry sauce and Lia gently leading her away. After that her mother always called her on Christmas Eve and told her not to bother coming home for Christmas. Every time it made Lia cry.
As the day wound on Lia found herself moping around the apartment more and more. She made herself a mug of hot cocoa and tried to read, but couldn't concentrate on the words. Any second now... She held her breath.
As if on cue, the radio, which had been droning softly in the background, began to play "Yule Shoot Your Eye Out" by Fall Out Boy. Lia turned it up louder and began to mouth the words.
Suddenly the phone rang.
"Please no," Lia whispered, moving forward, trancelike, to answer it.
"Lia," said her mother's quavery voice on the other end.
"Hi Mom," Lia said wearily.
"I'm sorry dear, but there's no-"
"Mom, please," Lia cut her off. There was a pause on the other end of the phone. "All I want this year is for you not to bury yourself for life." Lia said softly and desperately.
Lia's mother chocked out her words between sobs. "There's no need for you to come home for Christmas. We'll be fine here. I love you."
Lea set the receiver down in its cradle as the tears began to pour down. How many times had she heard those words?
"Don't come home for Christmas," sang the radio, as if echoing her thoughts. Lia sobbed, clutching the back of her armchair.
"You're the last thing I'd want to see underneath the tree."
As the group sang the last words of the song, Lia sang too, and the words matched her thoughts and moods perfectly.
"Merry Christmas, I could care less."
The soft guitar strums died away, leaving Lia alone, crying in the darkening cold of the room.


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