Journal Entry
Decorating with whatever we found in the bunker and whatever the kids made, we managed to make the cabin look surprisingly Christmas-y.
There are paper snowflakes hanging from the ceiling.
Harry built an ornament that somehow catches on fire if it gets too close to the fireplace.
Elliott made enough decorations for three cabins.
Maggie and I took everyone to the storage unit and let them pick gifts for each other from whatever survived the apocalypse.
Turns out Christmas shopping gets a lot easier when the mall closes forever.
The problem is Maggie.
I have absolutely no idea what to get Maggie.
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The cabin smelled like pine needles, cinnamon, and construction paper.
Nobody was entirely sure where the cinnamon had come from.
Nobody wanted to question it.
Karen had declared the mysterious appearance of holiday spices a Christmas miracle and refused to investigate further.
The younger kids had spent the better part of two days making decorations from scraps of paper, cardboard, and whatever craft supplies had survived in storage.
The results were questionable.
The enthusiasm was not.
James sat at the kitchen counter staring at an open notebook.
The page was covered in crossed-out ideas.
Most of them terrible.
A few of them embarrassing.
One of them had simply been written as:
Figure it out.
That hadn't been particularly helpful.
The kids had been easy.
Harry was getting a coupon book good for one month of James not correcting his fishing techniques.
Jonas was getting help building a proper workbench.
Elliott was getting several coupons for chores James would do in her place.
A gift she would undoubtedly abuse immediately.
His mother was getting what she'd wanted for months.
An organized storage room.
His father was getting the screwdriver he'd spent three months accusing everyone else of stealing.
James had found it exactly where John insisted he'd already checked.
The freezer.
Dr. Anderson was getting an old wool ski sweater James had discovered buried in storage.
The thing was ugly enough to qualify as Christmas clothing.
Maggie was different.
He'd already given her the guitar.
A real gift.
Something she'd wanted before the world ended.
Anything he thought of now felt smaller somehow.
"What are you doing?"
James looked up.
Maggie dropped onto the stool beside him and immediately tried to peek at the notebook.
He slammed it shut.
"Nothing."
"That's suspicious."
"It's private."
"That's even more suspicious."
James sighed.
"Thinking about Christmas gifts."
Maggie immediately pointed toward herself.
"I'm not getting you anything."
"Why not?"
"Because you're utterly impossible to shop for."
James laughed.
"What does that even mean?"
"What do you get the boy that has it all?"
You.
The thought appeared instantly.
Uninvited.
Unhelpful.
James shoved it back into whatever dark corner of his brain those thoughts belonged in.
"Maybe we just agree not to get each other anything."
Maggie looked horrified.
"No way."
"Why not?"
"Because that's lame."
James laughed despite himself.
"So what's your brilliant alternative?"
Maggie thought for a moment.
Then shrugged.
"Why don't we do something together?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Something that doesn't involve breaking up arguments or killing things."
James considered that.
"In the middle of winter?"
She shrugged again.
"Ice fishing."
"Ice fishing?"
"My mom took me once."
Her expression softened slightly.
"Her brothers came too. All their kids."
James listened quietly.
"Everyone else mostly sat around drinking coffee and complaining about the cold."
"And you?"
"I liked the fishing."
"Of course you did."
Maggie smiled.
"The hut was warm."
"There's the real reason."
"Maybe."
For a moment she stared out the window toward the snow-covered lake.
"I don't know."
Her voice was quieter now.
"I just miss doing normal things."
The answer caught him off guard.
"Normal things?"
She nodded.
"Not survival things."
The smile faded.
"Not apocalypse things."
James stayed quiet.
Maggie leaned back against the counter.
"I miss doing things that don't matter."
The cabin hummed around them.
The younger kids arguing in the living room.
Karen singing badly while wrapping presents.
John pretending not to help.
Life.
For a moment, it almost felt like the old world.
Almost.
"I think I saw an old pop-up hunting blind in storage," James said.
Maggie looked over.
"What?"
"We could probably turn it into an ice fishing hut."
A smile slowly spread across her face.
"Really?"
"Probably."
"You have no idea if that's true."
"Not even a little."
Maggie laughed.
A real laugh.
The kind that always seemed to surprise her.
"Then I guess you're getting me a hut."
"And I'm getting lessons?"
She held out her hand.
James looked at it.
A simple handshake.
Nothing complicated.
Nothing dangerous.
He shook it anyway.
"Deal."
Neither of them noticed Elliott standing halfway down the hallway watching the entire conversation.
Unfortunately for both of them, Elliott immediately had ideas.
And Elliott with ideas was usually how trouble started.