FicWad

It was one of those afternoons that never occurred as frequently as you would hope; the sun was shining high in the clear blue sky and even though the ground was cold and frozen, the absence of snow made it hard to assume that Christmas was just around the corner. As a Chicago native his entire life, Patrick had come to know Midwest winters to be full of snow, wind and the potential for frost bite after spending hours on end trampling through the snow in the backyard; but as the years pass the nostalgia of that perfect holiday begins to fade, along with all of the memories that nostalgia holds dear.

With the sun beaming down on his cheeks as he took a seat on the Stumotrolazera back porch, Patrick found it hard to force the holiday spirit upon himself, no matter how hard he tried; but he had to admit, the steaming cup of Gram’s signature hot chocolate was helping him, if even just a little. His eyes were fixed off in the distance as Loretta shuffled from the house, balancing a steaming mug in her right hand and a mysterious white box in her left; and a quiet sigh escaped past his lips as the elder woman took a seat across from him at the old wooden table.

“Fill me in on the workings of a rock star” Grams eyes were sparkling with the joy only her grandchildren and in Patrick’s case, adoptive grandchildren could ignite, “We’ve got enough time for either the summarized or detailed versions.”

Patrick’s lips curled into a smile that for once, he didn’t have to force and his lungs inhaled slowly as he fidgeted lightly in his seat, “Well, tour was great – hectic, but great, as always. We’re going to take a break for a while now I think, just to relax a little; Pete’s getting married and Andy wants to do some traveling for leisure, instead of work.”

Loretta nodded as she sipped slowly from her mug, studying his facial expressions and the tone behind his quiet voice as she posed a continuation to the explanation, “and you?”

A weak smile and a shrug were his initial answers, before venturing into what he didn’t want to admit, “I was suppose to get married but now, without Ana, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

As the grandmother to the girl who broke his heart, Grams could only offer a sympathetic frown as her hand reached across the table to touch his, “I’m sorry sweetie.”

Patrick nodded in understanding, the frown returning to his eyes and lips, “We haven’t spoken in about a month, I think I scared her away the last time we were together but she hasn’t moved the rest of her things out yet so I don’t know what to do. It’s hard to tell where we stand anymore.”

“She’s been spending a lot of time in New York with Nelle and that boyfriend of hers” Grams informed as a matter of fact, knowing Ana had just returned from her most recent trip just days prior.

Patrick frowned heavily to himself as a silence fell over them both, lingering softly in the air as a quiet breeze blew around them. Without a thought, his lips were passing secrets that he didn’t want to share in fear of the emotions they would stir, but these days it was hard to get his voice, head and heart to work together on much of anything.

“She said that we moved too fast, that we’re not ready for any of this and that maybe we just aren’t meant to be.”

Without hesitation Grams hands were reaching for the white box that she had brought from the house and pushing it in Patrick’s direction, his eyebrows raising in inquisition as his fingers worked on the box, removing its contents.

“This was supposed to be your wedding gift but obviously …” Grams trailed off, trying to hold a smile as a frown appeared on Patrick’s lips.

In his hands he now held a professionally constructed photo album with a gold cover, engraved with a red heart shimmering beautifully in the sunlight. Patrick ran his fingers over the edges before cracking open the cover, a smile playing slyly on his lips at the sight of the very first picture; he and Ana playing together as small children followed soon by a growing smile with each passing page.

“There are a lot of pictures from your parents that I don’t believe either of you would even remember” Grams smiled as they both fondly looked on at a picture of baby Patrick cuddled close to baby Ana in a play-pen in the living room of this very home he now sat outside of.

“This is amazing” Patrick cooed in awe of the history that had been packed into this beautifully thoughtful album.

“I want you to have it now” Grams shrugged with a smile, “Use it as a reminder that there’s too much past to give up now.”

Patrick shut the album and held it tightly in his lap with a smile playing so radiantly on his lips as his mind worked on constructing where to go from here; thankful for the help and advice he always seemed to be getting from those around him.

Grams smiled joyfully as she stood from the table, taking hold of both of their mugs before offering her last bit of advice for the day and shuffling back into the warmth of her home, “Go to St. Albert’s – she’s been having a rough few days, I think she’d like to see you.”

It had taken a month for Ana to master the façade she had come to perfect; with that smile you could barely tell that inside, she was falling apart at the seams. To the average eye, she looked to be as hard as the granite headstone she was seated before, but Patrick was never very good at being average.

It was less than a mile walk from where he had just parked his car outside of the gates, to the site of her late-mother’s grave and with each step he took that anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach began taking over, getting the best of his emotions.

Her ankles were crossed under her thighs as she sat on the cold winterized ground before her mother’s tombstone and as he took the same seat, positioning himself next to her on the ground, Patrick released a breathe he hadn’t realized he was holding, an irking silence filtering through the cold Midwest air. Suddenly, without a warning to his body or to his impending emotional status, Ana’s head was resting on his shoulder and his body involuntarily wrapped his left arm around her shoulder and held her tight.

“Christmas is the worst”

Patrick held his breath again as her voice filtered through his ears and her lungs released a soft, nearly inaudible sigh, “I can make it past my birthday just fine, but Christmas is the hardest.”

Patrick frowned heavily before a smile appeared on lips without a second thought, the memories flooding fast. “I miss those little cinnamon cookies that she would make on Christmas Eve.”

Even though her eyes were still frowning, a smile was forming on Ana’s lips as he spoke because for once, someone was willingly offering her something more than a sympathetic hug or forced smile. A light but chilly breeze blew through the trees around them and Ana’s body involuntarily cuddled closer to Patrick, an action that brought more than a weak smile to his lips and a hint of twinkle back to his desolate eyes.

“I miss listening to her and your dad try to sing drunken carols on Christmas night.”

Patrick laughed heartily deep in his chest and as the vibration of his laughter echoed against her body, Ana found herself smiling again at the little things she hadn’t realized she missed. Patrick commented happily, “I actually don’t miss that – his voice is horrible.”

Ana rejoiced in content, for the first time all day, “I’m pretty sure that you sucked all that talent from the gene pool.”

Moments of silence passed while Ana struggled to sort the floating thoughts and to construct the words she wanted to convey, settling with a light sigh, deep in her chest. “I’m sorry I haven’t moved the rest of my stuff out yet; it’s been a little hectic lately. I’ll get it all after the holiday.”

“Its okay” Patrick lied, “it’s not that big of a deal.” But in truth, it was a big deal because every day Patrick walked by the pictures on the wall or every morning when he stumbled across her belongings a little piece of his heart would break even more than he could have ever imagined possible.

“Are you still going to come over for dinner?” Ana sat up straight now as she changed the subject, fiddling with the laces of her shoes and attempting to avoid his longing gaze.

“Of course” His smile was sincere and sweet, “I want us to be okay, I won’t change a thing.”

Ana frowned heavily with an apology close behind, “I’m sorry Patrick, I’m trying – I really am.”

“I’m not blaming you!” Patrick assured to the best of his ability, “I’m just saying that I want to hold on, for what it’s worth.”

“I know, and I’m sorry” Ana tried to offer a weak smile that just wouldn’t form, “It just might take some time.”

“I can live with that” Patrick nodded, clamoring up from the ground, offering a loving smile before shuffling back to his car in the distance.