Who: Maddie and Micah Savage What: Getting some air during the family Christmas party When: 25 December 1999 Where: Their parents' house Warnings: Feelings
Maddie stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind her, shivering a little in the December air, and yet enjoying the refreshing chill all the same. She could still hear the faint strains of the Christmas song her mother had playing in the background, but she did her best to ignore it in favor of the rustling of branches in the wind—except that only made her want to be in the air, and that was the last thing she wanted to think about right now.
She leaned against the railing and breathed deeply, trying not to let her thoughts drift in directions that were too sombre. Christmas had been good so far, despite some awkward moments, and she'd only stepped away because she was starting to get a headache. Probably that was more a result of the scent of candles Mum preferred and not anything else. Probably. Maddie sighed and rubbed her temples.
Unknowingly, Micah had followed his twin sister outside, only minute behind, seeking a moment’s solace and a wisp of fresh air. Their parents’ deck was certainly big enough for the two of them, big enough for an entire party, really, but it felt small and cramped the moment it registered with Micah that not only was he not alone, but it was Maddie.
Still, rarely one to back down from a challenge, Micah squared his shoulders and surged forward to claim one of the chairs at the iron-wrought table. “Hey,” he said casually, and then downed some more of the beer he’d started inside.
Maddie glanced over her shoulder as she heard the door, noting Micah's arrival and wondering whether or not he'd ignore her. She hadn't had time to decide which outcome she preferred when he uttered his greeting. She looked back at him again, offering a brief smile and slightly raising an eyebrow at the fact that he'd sat down.
"Mum's candles getting to you, too?" she asked. It was an inane question, of course, but it was stupid for the two of them to stand out there and not talk. It was amazing how exhausting it could be to have almost nothing to do with another person when you were in the same location.
“A bit,” he shrugged. “It’s cooler out here, too. Gets hot in there with everyone.” Micah wasn’t sure why he felt the need to explain this to Maddie, who surely already knew both of those things, but. It was a weird time for them, so an awkward conversation about the weather was probably just par for the course.
Maddie made a noncommittal sort of noise of acknowledgement of the statement, and then lapsed into silence again. She pressed her lips together to keep from saying something snippy, because what was the point? Why should things be different now, after all of these years of them being just like this? Hell, some years they'd been worse than this. Why was she disappointed now, when she had no reason to expect anything else?
"Why are we like this, Micah?" The words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them. Or maybe she'd just stopped caring about saving face. Sometimes she thought she'd stopped caring about a lot of things. "We used to actually like one another." Granted, it had been so long ago now that it seemed like another life.
Micah had been staring out over the railing, about to take another sip of his beer, when Maddie’s question interrupted his empty thoughts. “Like what?” He turned his head and raised an eyebrow. Wanting to hear Maddie say it, even though he knew exactly what she meant, and might have even had a few opinions on the matter. “What are we like, Madeline?”
Maddie made an irritated noise this time. "Nevermind." She leaned heavily on her arms, not quite slumped in defeat, but no longer tense in expectation of the answer. If he wanted to pretend like it was nothing, then she could keep pretending it was nothing, too. "It's nothing, obviously." That was what they were like. Nothing. And that sudden thought brought tears to her eyes, despite her best effort otherwise.
“It’s clearly not nothing,” he replied, just a touch of exasperation in his tone. His sister’s body language betrayed her; it was clear that Maddie didn’t think the rift between them was nothing, either. Micah held back a sigh and moved to join her where she was perched. “It’s not nothing,” Micah repeated, more quietly.
She turned away from him as he joined her at the railing, not wanting him to see her face at the moment. She took a couple of slow breaths to push back the tears, because she was not a crier, and this was not the moment to start. "It's…." Maddie swallowed at the tightness in her throat. "I've never failed at anything...except for this."
Micah leaned over more, resting his chin on his palm, still looking forward. “And have you thought about why that is?”
Maddie tossed him a sharp, almost irritated look at the question, but her expression quickly deflated again. "Are you going to answer everything I say with a question? Of course I've thought about it. Have you?"
“I mean, I could,” he drawled, and took another sip of beer, letting his hand fall back to the railing. Finally, after long avoiding it, Micah gazed at his sister. “Yes. Obviously.” And waited.
She was looking down at her hands, fiddling with one of her fingernails for something to do, when she felt Micah's eyes on her and looked up automatically. She almost wished she hadn't, but she refused to let herself back down from his gaze. "You're infuriating," she said, though without any real venom. "I used to think it was because we wanted the same things in life, and there wasn't enough to go around."
He tilted his head in acknowledgement of this fact, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Personally,” Micah reached a hand up to rub his jaw, “I used to think it was because you were jealous.”
"Of you?" Maddie snorted a laugh. "I hate to burst your ego bubble, little brother, but I'm not jealous of you." After a beat, wherein she refused to let herself shift uncomfortably, no matter how much she wanted to, she asked, "So what do you think now?"
“Past tense,” Micah said wryly. Glanced down at the beer bottle, bravado slipping away. “I don’t know….I think we both got so frustrated with each other that we stopped trying to talk at all. So. Now we just. Don’t.” He exhaled.
The thoughts and emotions swirling around in her head were so complicated that his answer surprised her, because despite the simplicity of it, it rang true. She looked down at her hands again, sighing. "I'm exhausted, Micah. With...everything." Plenty of which she had no desire to lay bare for him, especially when this stilted mess was the closest thing to a conversation they'd had in years. "But especially this. You would think that not talking would be easier."
“You would think that,” he echoed. It was a testimony to how much they’d grown apart that Micah couldn’t even recall what Maddie would be stressed about. Nothing concrete, at least. and cast a sidelong glance at Maddie. “Do you….want to? Try, at least?”
Maddie hesitated before answering, not because of the answer itself, but because she wasn't sure what "trying" would even mean for them. But then, maybe that was why she'd failed at this: because neither of them had ever really tried. She'd shaped herself to be the best she could be, but apparently that person was not someone her brother could like. Maybe once she hadn't cared that that was the case, and now here they were.
"Any thoughts on how we'd go about that? I mean, we're doing such a bang on job at the moment." She couldn't help smiling a bit at that. After a beat, she glanced away. "I never wanted it to get like this."
Micah sighed. “Yeah. Me either.” And then held out his empty beer bottle, examining it. “I need another. I’ll get you one, too, and then we’ll talk more about your horrible decorating skills, yeah?” He offered a teasing grin, pulling away from the railing.
Maddie made a face. "I'll have wine, thanks, and then we can talk about your taste in beer. And Dad's, for that matter," she added with a bit of a laugh, glancing back at the house and their family within. For the first time in a long time, she thought that maybe it was possible to get through a holiday feeling better than when it had started.