Who: Justin and Reina What: Decorating for Christmas Where: Aubade 504 When: Tonight! Warnings: Enough holiday spirit to choke a horse... from one party. The other might just be the horse.
Reina burst into the apartment she shared with her cousin, dressed as a trampy elf. There was no reason for her to be dressed in the costume, aside from the fact that it was nearly Christmas and she wanted to. The skirt was too short, the crop top too small, and the green leggings too thin. Nothing good could be said for the strappy silver heels she wore, but altogether, the costume was quite striking.
Perhaps more striking was the box of Christmas decorations she set on the table in front of her cousin, beside the other two boxes. She pointed dramatically at it. “This,” she declared, “is going to be a wonderful Christmas.” She was determined to have a Christmas exactly like one of those terrible Hallmark movies she would never admit to watching. Ever. No one needed to know she curled up in her room around a stuffed bear and watched them until two or three in the morning on Fridays and Saturdays. No one.
“In light of that, we are decorating,” she told him, kicking off the heels. She pulled her iPod out of her purse and stuck it on the docking station on the side table next to the couch. Setting it to her Christmas playlist, she hit play, turning the volume to a reasonable level as the Trans-Siberian Orchestra began belting a thoroughly non-traditional version of O Come all Ye Faithful. “And tomorrow, we will buy a tree. A real one that sheds pine needles all over the floor and smells like balsam.” Justin had been quite happily researching, before his cousin’s rather spectacular entrance. The costume registered long enough for him to blink twice before he just accepted it as part of living with her and went on with his life, but the boxes in his work space were quite a bit harder to ignore. He gave it his best shot, of course, but the last box landed right atop the paper he was currently reviewing, and that meant that ignoring her antics was no longer possible.
When she pointed at the box, he rolled his eyes - yes, yes, he’d seen it. He wasn’t sure there was a way to avoid seeing it. Her declaration earned a few more rapid blinks. He hadn’t forgotten that Christmas was approaching, as awareness of the fact was difficult to avoid. He simply hadn’t regarded what it meant in relation to his own life, since after he had moved out of his parents’ home it had ceased to mean much at all, especially once he started coming up with excuses to avoid visiting until the week after.
His eyes widened at her next statement, however. Decorating meant rearranging. Rearranging meant that he would no longer be able to find everything in the dark, and he would risk stubbed toes and bruised shins if he didn’t feel like turning the lights on in the morning, as he often did not. He opened his mouth to protest, and left it open as he turned his head to stare at the iPod and its unexpected (though at that point he wasn’t quite sure why it was a surprise) contribution to Christmas’s sudden encroachment upon his life.
The mention of a tree, though, reminded him that, with family, sometimes he had to pick his battles. He stuffed another handful of M&Ms into his mouth before lowering his knee from where it had been tucked against his chest and then rising, slowly, and beginning to open one of the boxes. “Decorations, but no tree.” He didn’t imagine that she would agree to those terms, but he hoped it would give him some bargaining ground that would at least leave them with an artificial tree and (please, please, please) no tinsel.
Then, as an afterthought, he added, “And we will be making cookies.” The only tolerable part of the Christmas season, so far as he was concerned. Of course he didn’t want a tree. But, God damn it, they were going to have a tree. Trees were necessary and traditional. They could burn the rest of the decorations for all she cared - not that she was about to admit that - but they were going to have a tree. A big one. They had two stories and plenty of space, and if they didn’t have a laddar, they’d buy one.
“Tree,” she said, crossing her arms and fixing him with her best I-am-your-cousin-you-have-to-agree-with-me look. She doubted it would work on him, those sorts of faces rarely did, but she figured if she kept her back up and whined enough, he’d cave. “Cookies, and a tree, and decorations.” She pursed her lips for a minute, thinking. “But no tinsel and glitter or anything like that. It’s a pain in the neck to clean and destroys vacuums.” She had watched a YouTube video earlier featuring a vacuum all but exploding when tinsel tangled its rollers.
“I will bake you lots and lots of cookies if you agree to a tree.” She considered offering him the option of a fake tree, but didn’t want to surrender her position so soon. No, he could suggest it, and she’d agree on the caveat they purchased a balsam-scented candle. But she wasn’t going to bring it up on her own. Well, at least he didn’t have to fight the tinsel war. Justin sighed, making sure to look exactly as aggrieved as he felt. “A small tree. Pre-lit.” He knew that, if they got a tree that wasn’t pre-lit, he would undoubtedly be the one walking in circles around it. He was certain that, in the end, they would end up with a tree that was squarely on the large side, but he was seventy-three percent certain that she would consider the size of the tree more important than whether or not they put the lights on themselves.
He pulled a snow globe out of the box and turned it over in his hands, inspecting it from every direction before winding it up. For a moment, the thin, tinny sound of its music box drowned out the orchestral piece Reina had pulled up on her iPod. It was so cheap, so tacky, just like every other Christmas ornament he had ever seen. The appeal still escaped him, but at least it would be unobtrusive.
Then, he returned to the part that he was most concerned with. “I will pick the recipes. You will make the cookies.” She eyed him critically, searching for traps in his words. He was miles ahead of her in the brains department and could run circles around her. She could be mired in a tangle of logical arguments and words in seconds if she didn’t pay very, very careful attention to everything he said. It was likely she’d end up trapped anyway, but she wouldn’t go down without a fight, even if it was token at best. “Pre-lit implies fake,” she said, frowning at him. “I don’t want a fake tree.”
Eventually, he’d win that one. Lighting a tree sounded like a pain, anyway, and as long as it was nicely sized, she could concede to a fake tree.
The Trans-Siberian piece melted into a rendition of Silent Night in a language she didn’t recognize. She watched him turn the snow globe over in his hands, and she wrinkled her nose. Definitely not one of the nicer decorations she had purchased. The third box, though. That was full of treasures. An ivory nativity set and various Santas dressed to match the traditions of cultures from around the world, that box had lovely decorations. At least in her opinion.
“As long as your list includes gingerbread cookies and pecan tassies,” she told him. She remembered making gingerbread cookies with her mother before her father died, and she had tried a pecan tassie at the office on Friday. The little treats were sugary, delicious crack. He would love them. Justin sat the snow globe down, pursing his lips as he thought. The cookies were his first priority, of course. “That is acceptable, but there will be a greater variety of cookies than those two. Chocolate chip is a requirement. I will let you know in regards to the rest at a later time.”
Then, he started opening the other two boxes, stringing the decorations out just as he did his papers, so that he could inspect all of them side by side. A Santa in a long velvet robe, with a long silky beard, caught his attention for a moment, and he inspected it more thoroughly before returning to the matter of the tree. “An artificial tree is far more practical, as it can be used repeatedly rather than being discarded at the end of the season. Furthermore, a real tree would be just as messy and damaging to our apartment and possessions as tinsel and glitter. Also, I feel it is only polite to warn you that you will be solely responsible for dealing with the mess, were we to select a real tree, and I am certain that you would not wish to clean all of that up on your own, correct?”
As a peace offering, of sorts, he told her, “It can be an expensive artificial tree. They are often more attractive than an actual conifer, as their branches and needles are more uniform.” He hoped she would see logic, but in his experience it wasn’t something he should expect. Offering more money, however, might clear things up. She rolled her eyes at him. So typical Justin. As if she wouldn’t make chocolate chip cookies. Those were a staple of any holiday, as far as she was concerned, along with sugar and oatmeal cookies. Maybe oatmeal raisin, but she despised raisins.
Watching him unpack the rest of the decorations, she smiled, especially when he paid more attention to one of the Santas. She liked the Santas, with their varying heights and looks. One looked like he was a dryad instead of Father Christmas, and another looked more like a stereotypical wizard. She found them endearing, and had bought seven of the larger Santas, and somewhere between fifteen and twenty smaller Santas. The larger ones stood between one and two feet; the others were all less than eight inches tall. She hadn’t been able to pick and choose one or two - she never was. Options daunted her.
Heaving a sigh, she pretended to consider his argument. Really, he had won her with the idea of a pre-lit tree, but she didn’t want him to know that. “I guess we can get a fake tree,” she said with a great deal of hesitation. “As long as it’s around ten feet and comes with white lights.” There was something gaudy about colored lights, as far as she was concerned. “But we’re getting a balsam candle so it at least smells like a real Christmas tree.” And maybe a ginger-scented candle, too, so it always smelled like she had cookies baking. Justin might loathe that, but she would like it. Ten feet seemed a little much, but Justin would give in on that as long as it was fake. However... “We are ordering it online, and having it delivered to the apartment.” There was no way he was hauling the box for a tree that large up the stairs, and he wasn’t entirely certain that it would fit onto the elevator conveniently enough to make it worth saving the effort of a trip up the stairs.
Mention of a candle made him pause again. He wasn’t particularly fond of candles, as most of them tended to give him a headache. However, a balsam candle wouldn’t have a particularly distracting scent, or at least he believed it wouldn’t. Perhaps if he made certain that they arranged the tree and the candle on the opposite side of the room from where he worked, it would be okay. Regardless, the presence of the candle was not worth arguing over, not when there was a rapidly growing army of Saint Nicholases in front of him.
“Where exactly had you anticipated putting all these?” Justin prodded a particularly manic - oh, he supposed she would say it was jolly - Santa cautiously, watching as it rocked and nearly tipped over. He already felt as though he was being watched, and he saw at least three more in the box, still. “As long as we can look at them in a store,” Reina said, quickly agreeing to that condition. “I want to see what they look like so we don’t order a Hanukkah Bush by mistake.” She had ordered a Hanukkah Bush for Mr. Sparke’s office in an effort to be friendly to all denominations. There was a Kwanzaa menorah, or whatever they were called; she wasn’t sure.
Plucking the Santa he held from his hands, she grabbed a chair, climbed onto it, and put the Santa on the top of the entertainment center housing the TV. “I figured we could put them up here,” she said. “You can see them, but they’re not staring at you or anything.” She hopped down from the chair, holding her skirt so it wouldn’t fly up, and studied where she had placed the Santa. Perfect. With the others, it would be like a little army. Her own little army of Santa Clauses, keeping watch over the living room.
Creepy? Yes. But ever so amusing. Reina didn’t understand how people could think of dolls as terrifying, even though she had watched a few horror movies based around just that concept. She thought they were cute. In a dead, soulless sort of way. “I’m going to hell,” she muttered ruefully, a smile tugging at her lips.
She spun on her heel, throwing her hands into the air. “So grab a Santa, you! We’re decorating. By the time we’re done, this place will be more festive than... than...” She faltered, reaching for a comparison. “Macy’s,” she finally decreed, thinking of the Christmas windows the Macy’s in Chicago did every year. “Looking in the store is acceptable.” Of course, Justin planned to duck out of that particular trip. She could select whatever tree she preferred, and he would order it. It seemed fair.
As for the Santas... he sighed and picked up the one he’d been holding before, the one in the robe. “I don’t see why my assistance is necessary, when you will no doubt be rearranging them yourself until nothing is in the place where I originally put it.” He’d watched his mother do that, year after year, and his father had always covered his mouth when he tried to inquire as to why she demanded their help in the first place when she was clearly not satisfied with their contribution to the decorations.
Still, those long years were ingrained in his brain, and he stretched up to place the little Santa near the edge of the entertainment center, fumbling around by feel until it was a safe distance away. The last thing he needed was one of them taking a tumble while he was in the middle of something important and shattering his concentration to the point where no amount of Christmas cookies could make it better. Scoffing, Reina pushed the Santa a safe distance from the edge. “That’s why you’re going to hand me the Santas so I don’t have to keep walking up and down this step stool.” All two steps. “And then when we’re done here, we’ll put the garlands up on the railings, and the candles in the windows.” She desperately wanted the candles in the windows. He could request she take down all the other decorations and she would, in a heartbeat, except for the candles.
“Hand me another two. The biggest ones.” She waved her fingers at him. “Don’t dawdle. The faster you help, the faster you can go back to work and I can start making you cookies.” Little did he know she had purchased a small box of chocolate chip cookies the other day and then stuffed it into the farther corner of her closet under all her dirty laundry. He’d never look there, even if he suspected her.
She hoped. If he ruined that surprise, she’d yell at him until she was blue. That, he supposed, was satisfactory. He shrugged and grabbed the two largest Santas, handing them up to her one at a time. “Candles in the windows are a fire hazard, you realize.” They would have to tie back the curtain and lift the blinds, but he expected that she’d already thought of that. She seemed to have everything all planned out, and he had to wonder how long she’d been plotting it. Garlands on the railings seemed like an awful lot of work as well, but she had made a valid point.
In the interest of finishing quickly and getting his cookies, Justin shut his mouth and started handing her the little Santas as quickly as he could. “Not real candles,” Reina replied tersely as she set the Santas on the entertainment center and arranged them to her satisfaction. “The fake plastic ones, with pointy light bulbs that you click on at night. They’re perfectly safe.” He’d likely insist that they were still a fire hazard, and she’d concede that battle to him as long as she got to keep them and turn them on at dusk.
Once the Santas were done, she hauled Justin to the railing, carefully wrapping the garland, and making him hold the boxes of ornaments as she hung them very carefully. The red and gold orbs sparkled in the light, and she smiled, satisfied, when that was done. Ignoring him in favor of the candles, she ran from room to room, placing the plastic candles in the center of every window. When she was done, she went to her bedroom, dug under the pile of dirty clothes, and produced the box of chocolate chip cookies.
“Justin!” She made her way back to the family room, holding the box on the tip of her fingers like she was a waitress. “I have a present for you!” Justin had allowed himself to be tugged along in the decorating adventure much like some sort of accessory, or a ladder with the additional advantage of opposable thumbs. The thought of cookies had helped him get through the worst of it (and keep his mouth shut about whether or not electric candles made sense). The thought of going out to look at trees was just a little more holiday cheer than he could bear, and the mention of a present only served to make him slightly wary... who knew what a present could mean, when she was so wrapped up in the spirit of the season or whatever inane description people were using that year.
He looked up at her slowly, and then focused in on the box of cookies. Oh, well, that was the sort of present he liked. Without another word, he snatched them from her and ripped into the package. They even stole the spot of honor from the bowl of M&Ms he’d been snacking on for the past few days.
Just to make sure she knew, he turned to her again and said, “This does not remove chocolate chip cookies from your baking queue.” That made clear, he turned back to his research...
Well, almost. One extra tab was opened on his browser, and “cookie recipes” quickly typed into the search bar. Reina’s biggest mistake of the night? Not specifying how many types he could ask for.