Home for the Holidays

I hobble along the curved sidewalk that leads from the driveway to my parent's house, my crutches have turned the familiar path into one that feels awkward and daunting. Sure enough, I misplace one into a crack and almost fall on my face. I'm able to save myself from crashing to the ground but feel a sharp pain in my ankle. My slightly older brother sticks his head out the front door and calls to me, “Hurry up, Delly, Mom's serving her famous cinnamon rolls! It's first come first serve and I brought home a friend!” He then disappears inside without offering to help me the rest of the way. Merry Christmas to me. Bah Humbug is more like it!

I make it inside, more than a few minutes later, and see only crumbs on the Christmas platter that held at least a dozen of Mom's coveted cinnamon rolls only moments before. I glare at my brother, who is smiling at me with the last cinnamon roll in his hand. He then proceeds to shove the entire roll into his mouth. If I was healthy, I would have reached the roll before it made contact, but unfortunately, I'm out of commission with a badly sprained ankle. An injury that's cost much more than my mother's delicious cinnamon rolls, I had to miss out on the NCAA Outdoor Track and Field Championships that I'd been training all year for. I'd been the favorite to win the long jump.

“Here, you can have mine...it's Adelaide, right?” I'm pulled from my dark thoughts by an unfamiliar voice. I look for the owner of the deep baritone and find that it came from a most attractive stranger, who I assume to be the friend my brother mentioned earlier.

“I go by Delia, and you are?” I ask.

“Beau.” His athletic physique, strong jawline, and soulful eyes make me forget my troubles for a second, but then I shift my weight, causing my ankle to throb, and my foul mood returns with a vengeance. Instantly, I lose both my hunger for the cinnamon roll and my interest in the stranger and wave off his kind gesture. I slowly make my way to the couch as everyone looks on helplessly. I fall back on the couch, close my eyes, and wait for the strength to go upstairs to sulk in my room in peace and quiet.

Later, my Mom finds me standing at the bottom of the staircase and says, “we're having you sleep in the office, dear. Your dad prepared the pull out for you. Beau will stay in your room. We figured it'd be best with your ankle and all,” she hugs me tight and gives me a kiss on the cheek while pretending not to notice the look of disapproval on my face. I huff and turn towards the office. At the door, I see that my dad tried his best to be accommodating. All of his things, which were usually strewn about the desk and side table...heck, the whole room had been relocated to the drawers and bookshelf. The pull out couch was set up with fresh bedding, extra pillows, and looked quite inviting. It made me feel even worse about my reservations. I wanted to stay in my room and wasn't happy about a stranger sleeping in my bed. Even an attractive one with a sexy voice. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice Beau walk in with my bags.

“Where do you want these?” He asked, bringing me back to reality once again. I pointed to a corner of the room. He moved quickly and easily, setting my two bags down and turning towards me. He studied the expression on my face and saw that I was still in a mood. He offered a quick smile before heading back out-to be around people who were nice and said thank you. My mood instantly grew darker. Of course, my brother brings home a prospective cutie when I'm in a funk. I roll over and take a long nap.

The following day progresses in the same way, with me sitting alone in my makeshift room while everyone else celebrates without me. Then, on the evening of Christmas Eve, we all gather around the Christmas tree and chose one present to open, as was our tradition. I don't bother to pick a present with the others because I didn't want them to see me struggle. Beau places one in front of me.

“This one's from me.” He said. Though it was only for a moment, I saw a sparkle in his eye and grew anxious to see what he'd gotten me. It was oddly shaped, badly wrapped, and, judging from the sounds that were coming from within, alive. Ugh, please don't let it be a mouse or a rat or something, I prayed as I unwrapped the paper to find a small cage with a little yellow bird inside.

“It's a bird,” I say in surprise.

“A canary,” Beau says with a smile, “it's a songbird and can actually learn musical notes. I had one as a child and thought it might help cheer you up after your injury.” My family is quick to ooh and aah at his thoughtfulness.

“That's so nice of you, Beau, thank you,” I say, though I'm unsure if I'll be able to care for this tiny living thing in my sorry state. Not to mention I've never had one before and have no idea what they require. I carefully set the cage on the side table to watch the others open their presents. Their joy is contagious and I feel better than I have in a week.

The feeling is short-lived and soon I'm back in the office feeling sorry for myself when I hear a knock on the door. “Come in,” I call and Beau pops his head in. He brought the bird, which I'd totally forgotten on the table. I cringe at my mistake. He must think I'm the rudest, most selfish person who ever lived. He puts the bird's cage on my dad's desk and I thank him again for his kindness. He studies my expression, this time he decides to stay and takes a seat in the desk chair.

“I'm sorry to hear about your ankle, it kept you from the championships?” He asks. Clearly, my brother had filled him in. I nod, my face solemn. “I'm on the baseball team with your brother, did he tell you that?” I shake my head, “I got in on a full scholarship only to tear my ACL in the first game my freshman year.” My mouth drops in shock. “Oh yeah, it was bad. I was out the rest of the season, lost my scholarship, the rehab was...intense.” I watch his sky blues eyes turn cloudy as he relives it.

“What did you do?” I ask.

“I got a job,” he replies with a laugh. For the first time since my accident, I laugh too. We talk for over an hour as he tells me how he was able to fully recover from his injury while also working, studying, and was able to keep his place on the team. His story helps me see more than my current situation and it proves a sweet relief. After he heads up to sleep in my bed...weird, I flip through the songs on my dad's computer, which consist mainly of songs from the 1970s, 80s, and 90s, and settle on “Free Bird”, in honor of my new friend. I replay my conversation with Beau in my head as I let the song repeat a few times. As I move to turn it off, I see that the little canary appears to be dancing to the beat, bobbing back and forth on his little perch. How sweet. I bid the yellow bird goodnight, and drift off peacefully.

On Christmas morning, I wake to hear my new friend chirping what I am sure to be “Free Bird.” I can't wait to tell everyone. When I make it to the kitchen, I find everyone at the table enjoying breakfast. At the sight and smell of the delicious spread, I forget all about my bird's morning serenade and zero in on the already empty platter of cinnamon rolls. Just as I open my mouth to complain, Beau, seated beside me, sneaks one on my plate.

“I saved you one,” he says and smiles. I feel my heart skip a beat. He has a great smile.

“Guess what,” I say excitedly as I remember the canary's song, “your present sang me awake this morning. It was the most amazing thing, I swear he was singing the exact song that I was listening to last night.” His eyes lit up as he saw how much of an effect it had on me.

“I told you they do that. It's a good trick, right?” he asked.

“A great trick,” I reply and then look around the table at the others, who are all staring at the two of us. My mom, in particular, has a knowing kind of look, and now it is my turn to pretend to not see her expression.

Moments later, our special Christmas breakfast turns to chaos as a tiny little yellow blur flies over everyone's heads and lands right on top of the roast, which happens to be receiving a fresh coat of marinade from my mom. When everyone sees that it is my canary causing all of the fuss, they turn to me with wide eyes.

“Why isn't it in its cage?” asks my dad.

“Get it off my roast!” my mom screams.

“Sabotage!” yells my brother, who then strikes a pose before running over and shooing the bird off our dinner.

“Lynyrd!” I cry out as he disappears into the dining room.

“Leonard?” My dad says.

“He chirped 'Free Bird' to me this morning so I named him Lynyrd Skynyrd," I reply, reaching for my crutches. Beau stops me and hurries after him. He returns quickly with the tiny bird peeking through his large, clasped hands, and heads past the table to return him to his cage. I explain to my family that I let him out because I thought he was getting bored in the small cage.

“So get him a toy,” my mom snapped as she worked to clean off the roast.

“Birds play with toys?” I ask, my voice filled with surprise. My dad laughs and shakes his head. Well, I didn't know that. I crossed my arms and sank back into my chair.

Beau walks back into the kitchen with an amused smile across his face. “The bird is back in his cage. How's the roast?” He asks my mom.

“I think it'll be okay, Beau. Thanks for your help.” She shoots me one last look before putting the roast in the refrigerator.

At the end of a long and festive Christmas day, I sit with Beau on the pull out after everyone else had already gone to sleep. I take the opportunity to quiz him on proper bird care as I clearly needed the help; the future of my sweet little friend was looking pretty bleak. He patiently answered my questions and didn't make me feel bad about the incident at breakfast. Actually, he seemed to find it pretty hilarious that Lynyrd Skynrd sang 'Free Bird' and I then did free the bird- right into our Christmas breakfast. I guess it is pretty funny when you think about it.

“Why do you hang out with my brother?” I couldn't help but wonder.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“I'm sure you've heard the saying- 'you are who you hang out with'. My brother is an idiot. I wouldn't want his childishness or stupidity to rub off on you. You...ah...you seem pretty cool.” I shy and look away.

He laughs, “I'm glad you think so. You're not so bad yourself. Your table manners, on the other hand, could use a little work,” I hit him on the shoulder and we both laugh, “seriously though, your brother's a good guy. You just get the worst of it because you're his sister.” I doubt that and am going to tell him so, but then I get distracted when I glance at his lips. They look really soft. He catches me looking and I turn my head to avoid his eyes. Only this time, he catches my chin between his fingers and turns it to face his. He looks at me like he is searching for something before slowly leaning in to kiss me. It only lasts a moment but is everything I thought it would be. As if on cue, my little songbird starts to sing for us: “Free Bird” the tune was unmistakable.

“He's doing it! I told yo—oow!” I bounce on the bed, forgetting my bad ankle in my excitement and my injury screams its resistance. Beau put his arm around me and stayed close until it stopped aching. We end up falling asleep cuddled together on the pull-out.

The next few days see me feeling much better, which I'm sure has everything to do with Lynyrd Skynrd and Beau. I find myself singing along to the radio as Beau and I drive to the pet store to pick up some bird toys. I notice Beau keeps stealing glances at me as I do. I am also more at ease with my crutches as we shop and check out. We stop for hot chocolate on the way home and decide to order a cup for everyone. We sit at a table, slowly sipping our drinks while we wait for our order.

“So why aren't you spending this time with your family?” I ask casually. As I see him start to squirm in his seat, I realize it was a sensitive subject.

“Um...my family...um...” he couldn't put the words together. Apparently, it was a very sensitive subject.

“That's okay, you don't have to answer. I didn't realize...” I stammered in an attempt to undo my mistake.

“No, it's all right,” he assured me. “My family isn't like yours and your brothers. It's just me, my mom and dad. My dad is...not the kind of guy you want to be around. In high school, he was an all-state pitcher with dreams of making it to the majors. Until his senior year, when he tore the UCL of his elbow in his pitching arm. He never got it back and lost all prospects. He never made peace with it and took it out on my mom and I.” On impulse, I reach out and put my hand on his. He quickly flipped his around to hold my hand and continued, “when I compare it to what happened to me I can understand his reaction. Though baseball has never meant to me what it did to him, I'd hate to have not come back from my injury. That's not to say it makes it okay, nothing could,” he looked at me and I saw the pain in his eyes. I wished I could make it better but couldn't think of anything to do other than to thank him for sharing it with me.

We continued to grow closer as winter break winded down. I spent every night cuddled up with him on the pull out bed in the office room talking, laughing, and getting more acquainted with his soft lips. The final day came too soon and my stomach dropped as I watched Beau and my brother pull out of the driveway. I stood there waving, down to only one crutch, a fact that brought much joy yesterday but is lost on me now as they disappear from my view. I'm left wondering if I will see him again or if all I have left from our brief holiday romance is Lynyrd Skynrd. The sweet little songbird is an excellent parting gift but I wanted more. We hadn't talked about the future so I didn't know if he was interested in pursuing a real relationship. Especially one that is sure to be complicated by the long-distance, as our schools are at least two hours from one other. I turn to head inside when I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pull it out and check the notifications. It's a text from Beau: Dinner and a movie next Saturday? I smile and my face grows warm despite the cold temperature. I'll take that as a yes.