24. Christmas Party

Today is the last day of the semester, but it's also the day of our long-awaited Christmas party. Twinkling red and green lights are draped over doorways and lining the floorboards of the entire circumference of the room. Trees wrapped in ribbon and dotted with gold and silver bulbs sit elegantly in each corner. I tilt my head as I listen to the cheery tunes dancing through the air, igniting a warmth in each heart. The center of the room is cleared for dancers, but only three couples make use of it.

It's a wonderland. A place where magic comes alive. The only thing throwing off the charm in the room is our clothing.

Ugly sweaters are everywhere. I see Laura, one of my dorm mates, walk by and I can't help but smile at the ridiculous sweater clinging to her body. She's taken a typical, burnt yellow knit sweater and then hung Christmas decorations all over the thing. I almost pity the girl. There aren't many men here who would brave the possibility of crashing into one of those bulbs and having it explode on them.

I see a few sweaters that are just simply ugly because that's how they were made in the factory, and I wonder if those people actually bought them at one point thinking they looked good. There's the typical grandma sweaters and a few that are made out of odd materials, like garbage bags and toilet paper—no joke. I'm sure Jamison had to have gone through a couple of dozen rolls to ensure durability. I offer an amused nod as he walks by, toilet paper trailing in his wake.

And then my eyes find Seth's.

He's on the other side of the room chatting it up with his buddies. My lips turn upward watching his animated gestures. He's so passionate about things. If only I could bring out that level of passion. All I wish is for him to feel a smidgen of that zest for me.

I watch as he listens intently to something Matt is saying, and I'm so captivated that I don't realize Seth has diverted his gaze from his friend until his eyes land on mine. He doesn't smile for a moment but just watches me. His left brow lifts just a hair and I can see the confusion that takes over his face.

He turns away from me for a moment, returning his focus to Matt, but within seconds his eyes have found mine again. I need to look away. I'm being way too obvious. But, I know that if I divert my gaze now, it'll look like I didn't want to get caught staring. So, instead of looking away, I smile and offer a simple wave.

His face softens and he nods in acknowledgment. I take this as my cue to head on over. He bounces his attention back and forth between Matt and me, and the moment I'm standing directly in front of him, he smiles. It's a genuine smile and I immediately feel warmth spread from the inside out.

"Hey Merc!" Matt says, breaking into the fragile moment Seth and I seemed wrapped in.

Seth blinks, and suddenly everything has returned to normal. He's no longer looking at me in a way that makes me think he's come to some astounding realization. Instead, he's just smiling. It's his friendly smile, the one he uses on everyone he's close to. And while I should feel special about finally breaking into his secluded group of friends, I don't.

Because I don't want to be his friend. I want—

No! I'm not going there. I will not let my thoughts sneak in that direction. Today—and for the rest of eternity—we are simply friends.

"Hey, guys," I say back, nudging Blake—a tall blonde guy with crooked teeth and beautiful hazel eyes—in the side with my elbow. He laughs and quickly leans down, pecking my cheek. We've barely hung out all year, but he always makes an effort to acknowledge me. He's the most affectionate person I think I've ever met. A quality that once made me extremely uncomfortable, but have since grown accustomed to.

"You look..." Seth steps back, letting his eyes roam over my body so he can take in a full view of my outfit. "Comfortable?"

I laugh at the look on his face. He's clearly amused by my sweater, but also very much concerned about my mental health.

"I know. I know," I say, putting up my hands in defense.

"It's an ugly sweater party," Randy says, "not an ugly sweaters party." He pushes extra emphasis on his plural use of the word, and I glance down to get another view of my costume.

"I think I look pretty rad," I joke, spinning to allow my sweater to twirl around me.

I've been to more ugly sweater parties in my life than I can even count. So this year, instead of adding another one to my wardrobe, I just combined them all. I'm literally wearing seven sweaters that have all been cut in pieces and then stitched together. The finished product drapes to my mid-calves and billows out like an upside-down mushroom.

In short... I look like a lunatic.

"And look at you," I say, motioning to Seth. "Did your Grammy make that for you?"

He looks down at the fuzzy sweater stretched across his chest. It's a bit too small for his lean frame, but nobody's complaining. Looking back up at me, he smiles.

"No, in fact, Mimi did." He laughs at himself, and I wonder if it's because he's not actually joking. His sweet Mimi actually made an ugly sweater for her baby boy. Aw...

Except, I've never heard him speak about a Mimi in the family. I figured it was because he had no other family worth mentioning. Now I'm not so sure.

"She made it from a fuzzy blanket, didn't she?" I ask, choosing not to question him about her until later.

"Yep."

I snicker at his confidence and watch as he runs his hands down his chest in playful seduction.

"It makes me want to hug you," I tell him honestly. "I'm just gonna..." Without another word, I sidle up next to him and wrap my arms around his torso. "I'm not moving from this spot."

He laughs. That's his only response. But I don't care because I'm too happy reveling in the fact that he didn't push me away. In fact, anytime we bump into each other throughout the party, he automatically opens his arms and allows me to step in for a hug.

And let me tell you, those were the best hugs I've ever experienced in my life.

———

The party ended up being a huge success and I realize later that I probably should have invited a few people. I just assumed it was a "Filming" party and didn't think anyone else would show up. Turns out, nearly fifty people showed up. It was a dry party but you'd never know it. The level of crazy far exceeded my expectations. I was very proud.

But, coming back to the dorm at three in the morning has its disadvantages. For one, I end up sleeping until late afternoon. And two, I'm savagely hungry when I finally do emerge from my room. Not bothering to change or hunt for my shoes, I slide on a pair of fuzzy, oversized house slippers and shuffle to the cafeteria to grab a plate of food.

Others are just starting to show up for dinner as I munch on fresh garlic bread alone. I can only imagine the mess I look with make-up smeared down my face and hair that'd make an alpaca do a double-take. I wave at a couple of judgmental glances, smiling when they awkwardly wave back and then never glance my way again.

"I'm totally digging the look," one guy says, motioning a finger down the length of me as he passes.

"Made it myself," I respond, causing him to chuckle and send me a thumbs up.

I spend the majority of my evening in my seat, watching frost form along the edges of the window beside me. The weather seems to have taken a swift turn, the chill from outside managing to creep through the glass. I hug myself, my ugly sweater warm in some places—where the material I used was thicker—and flimsy in others. Probably would have been wise to wear a coat but I hadn't planned on spending two hours eating.

It feels like the dead of night by the time I start heading back to my room. I'm shivering, legs doing their best to hustle me to the warmth of my bed. After sleeping all day, I doubt I'll ever fall asleep tonight, so might just have to spend the evening watching tv while I snuggle beneath layers of blankets.

But my plans are altered drastically when I get to my room and find several missed phone calls and text messages lighting up my phone. I'd left it behind because I have no pockets and I didn't think I'd be gone very long. My lesson has been learned.

The most recent text is actually from Seth, but he's asking if I know where Emma is. I chuckle at the randomness of it. Seth barely remembers who Emma is. Why would he be concerned about where she is?

And then I move on to the next one. As I listen to panicked voice messages and read frantic texts, I realize that something is very wrong. Emma is gone so often that I barely even realized I hadn't seen her since yesterday morning. I just assumed it was because I'd been at the Christmas party all evening and then slept all day today. But, thinking back, I'm not sure if I actually saw her sleeping in her bed when I got home early this morning. Did I even look to see if she was there? I don't remember hearing her breathing or moving around when I entered the room. Could it be that I didn't notice her because she was never there?

I pull my bubble coat on over my ugly sweater as I punch in Emma's number. It rings until I hear her chipper voice tell me to leave a message. I hang up and rack my brain for how I can contact anyone from her friend circle. I scan through old messages, trying to see if I've ever texted Lindsey and just forgot to save her number, but I find nothing. Eventually, I end up calling Seth. Maybe he knows more than I do.

"Hey." His voice is casual as he answers his phone. "Did you find your friend?"

I shake my head as I mutter, "No. Do you know anything about what's going on?"

I hear a door close and suddenly the noise that I hadn't even noticed going on in the background disappears. There's complete silence now which has me wondering where Seth might be.

"Sorry," he says, letting out an audible breath. "It was a bit loud in there."

I don't bother asking where 'there' is as I wait for his update on my roommate.

"I really don't know anything," he says. "My buddy sent a mass text to a group of people asking if anyone had seen Emma. I assumed it was your Emma?"

"Yeah," I confirm.

"That's all I know." There's regret in his voice and I know he wishes he had more useful information.

"Can I get your buddy's number?" I ask, figuring it's my only option.

He agrees and we hang up. A moment later, he sends me the contact information for someone known as 'Lightning' and I don't hesitate to call.

"Yeah," is his greeting. "Who this?"

"I need to get ahold of Emma," I tell him. "Any idea where she is?"

"Um," he lets the word hang for a moment. "You're a stranger. I don't give out that kind of information to stra—"

"I'm her roommate," I clarify, not appreciating the seconds being wasted. "Mercy Nicholson."

"Mercy!" He breathes out my name like a massive sigh of relief. "My goodness! We've been trying to get a hold of you all day!" His excitement dies away and his tone grows somber. "Trevor found Emma last night, almost frozen stiff in some barn a couple of miles out. She'll be fine but the hypothermia was pretty bad and the cold did some damage to her hands."

"Why was she in a barn last night... alone?" I ask, heading for the elevator at the end of the hall.

"I'm not sure exactly," he says, voice cautious. "There are a few rumors going around about it. I'm at the hospital now, so I'm sure I'll have some answers soon."

"I'm coming," I tell him, tapping my foot on the ground as I descend to the ground floor. "What room?"

He rattles off a number that I hope I'll remember and then we hang up. The drive to the hospital is a quiet one, but it makes me realize just how wrapped up I've been in my own world. What could Emma have possibly been doing in a freezing barn in the dead of winter? And why was she alone? Knowing what I know about her, there are a few possibilities, but none are reassuring. If anything, it's making me aware of how badly she needed a friend and I wasn't there for her. My world was Seth; she just managed to fill the gaps when he wasn't around.

I shake my head, disgusted at myself for thinking of another human being with such little concern. Especially someone as broken and alone as her. She'd told me her history and yet, I assumed that because she felt safe enough to tell me, then it must have all been in the past. But what if it wasn't. What if her suffering was current... and I just ignored it.

What disgusts me even more is that it took a tragedy to wake me up to my self-centeredness. Maybe I don't often complain about my feelings out loud, but internally I'm completely consumed by them. I've forgotten what the world looks like because all I see is Seth. That's not reality; that's a twisted fantasy. Seth would be appalled.

I pull into the hospital, park, and practically run to the main entrance. I don't bother with the front desk as I search the floor for signs to the elevator. Once again, I'm impatient as I wait for the machine to carry me to floor three, and then I'm squeezing through the opening doors and scanning the doors for her number.

The door is already open when I arrive and I can hear voices inside. She's already spent an entire day in this hospital and I'm only just now showing up. I can't help but wonder how disappointing that is for her. After I catch my breath, I pull in a steadying inhale and enter the room. Three pairs of eyes turn my way.

"Mercy!" Emma looks relieved when she sees me.

"Holy smokes," I gape. "You look horrendous."

I grin playfully at her and she laughs, opening her arms for me to come in for a hug. I obey.

"I'm so sorry," I mumble into her shoulder. "I just found out about all this. What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says, forcing a smile. "Might take a while to heal," she lifts her bandaged hands for me to see and then shrugs, "but I'll be fine."

I glance at Lindsey standing on the opposite side of Emma's bed and see the doubt on her face. Unlike Emma, she doesn't feel the need to cover up the truth with a smile. Whatever happened last night, it's not going to remain a mystery for long.

"Oh, Mercy," Emma says, motioning to the older woman standing at the end of the bed, "This is my mom, Linda."

"Hi," I say, offering a small wave.

"Nice to meet you," Linda says, her soft voice carrying warmth but also weariness.

"Same." I nod.

I'm usually not lost for words, but I can't seem to know what to say to a woman who's staring at her broken daughter in a hospital bed. What must this be like for her?

"I know you're probably planning on sleeping here," I tell her, "but if you need a bed, you're welcome to stay in our dorm." I wave a finger between me and Emma. "I'm sure Emma won't mind letting her Mama stay in her bed."

"That's very sweet of you," Linda says, her eyes crinkling at the corners when she smiles.

"And since it's Christmas break, you'll have the place to yourself."

"An appealing offer," she chuckles, sliding a hand over Emma's feet where they sit tucked beneath the blankets and giving them a tender squeeze. "But the doctor said she should be getting released tomorrow..." Her eyes flicker to Emma. "Hopefully."

We stand around chatting for a while and then Lindsey starts saying her goodbyes. I take that as my cue and with hugs and promises to text constantly over Christmas break, Lindsey and I are exiting the room.

I ache for her; for all the crap she's been through. My life has been peachy in comparison and still, I manage to internally inflate all my little issues. I've always prided myself on being strong. On not seeking drama or attention. Instead, I just accept things the way they are and force myself to figure out a way to live with it. But... when everything is easy, what could I possibly need to be strong for. I've never had a reason to crumble or give up.

Rather than a chest puffed with pride, maybe I should let humility find a way into my life so I can learn how to be thankful. Okay, so a certain boy doesn't love me back. Is that really the most devastating thing in the world? While I'm over here suffering from a little heartache, Emma's entire world is being lit on fire. Her normal will no longer exist after this. She'll have to readjust to a whole new reality.

I park my car in the empty campus parking lot and glance around. This is the same lot that Seth usually parks at too, but I don't see his truck. Makes me wonder if he agreed to spend Christmas with his mother. The thought sends a disgusted tremor through my chest.

Pulling my phone from my coat pocket, I give him a call. There's no answer, so I settle on a text asking where he is. Even after I've packed all my bags for the holidays there's still no response. I even go so far as to going to his dorm room and knocking for a solid five minutes.

Nothing.

Seth is gone and didn't bother to tell me where he was going. Not that he needed to. He's a grown man and we're only friends. But, it would be nice to know he's somewhere safe, at least. The only comfort I have is imagining him spending Christmas with a buddy, or maybe even Shonice.

Thinking of, if anyone knows where Seth is, it's her. I find her number and hit send. A moment later I hear her voice on the other end.

"Looking for Seth?" is how she greets me, and I cringe at how predictable I must seem to her.

"Yepper."

"He's home," she tells me and I can sense the distaste she has for giving his home that title. "I tried to convince him to spend Christmas with Jamison, but he refused. Said he had some things to work through with Sam."

I find it interesting that Shonice never refers to Sam as Seth's mom. In reality, she's not. She lost that title when she locked her kids in the bathroom so she didn't have to deal with them. She doesn't deserve to be called something as warm and safe as 'mom'.

"So," I pause, thinking. "How much time should I give him to work things out with her before I go get him?"

She chuckles. "I like your persistence. But, I don't know. Give him a day or two. Then he's all yours."

"Where will I find him?"

She rattles off an address, which is apparently his uncle's house and the place his mother is currently staying for a few days. Unfortunately, it's also two hours in the wrong direction. That'd be a ten-hour round-trip drive from my parent's house. But, definitely worth it.

Throwing my bags in my car, I make the trip home, my mind constantly wandering between what Seth might be up to and how Emma is going to cope as she heals. It's like everyone around me has real-life issues they're dealing with and I'm just sitting here helpless. I never realized how much I value being needed, but even as the thought filters into my mind, I'm coming to the conclusion that even that is selfish. Flaunting my ability to be there for anyone whose life isn't glamorous, and then having a mental pity-party when they refuse my help. In reality, who would want help from someone whose only giving it out of a desire to feel better about themselves?

My mom has tomato soup and grilled cheese ready for me when I get home. It's almost nine already, but I'm starving and so appreciative of her thoughtfulness. She sits across from me as I eat, tapping her fingernails against her hot tea mug.

"No Seth this time?" Her tone is curious and I glance up to find her eyeing me over the rim of her cup.

"Not yet."

I then tell her where he is and about my plan to get him back here. She's very supportive of my decision and even offers to accompany me on the drive to pick him up. For a minute I consider refusing but then I realize how much I hate being alone. Five hours in a car without someone to chat with is torture. So, I quickly change my mind and she begins her planning.

Before my sandwich is gone, she's already mapped out several mini-trips for our drive home. We'll head non-stop to Seth, pick him up, and then stop at a botanical garden, a winery, and a zoo on our way back. I'm excited about each stop she's planned... even if I am underage for the winery. Granted, it will be exhausting, but I appreciate exhaustion when it's the result of great fun.

"This might end up taking two days," I tell her a couple of days later as we're loading our bags into the car. I still haven't heard anything back from Seth and I can feel doubt and concern begin to wiggle their way into my gut.

"Oh definitely," my mom agrees. "That's kind of my hope." She rubs her hands together, her entire body twitching with excitement. "Go ahead and get in; I'll be right back."

I do as I'm told and a minute later the back doors of my mom's SUV are opening and my dad and sister are climbing inside. I twist around in my seat, brows quirked in question.

"Are we going on a vacation?" I ask, confused, as my eyes swing toward the driver's seat and my mom slides into position.

"Oh jeez," my dad mutters. "What am I thinking?" Then he's hopping out of the backseat and tapping a knuckle on my mom's window. "Out, Squig."

His nickname for her. Though, I've never risked asking where it came from. What could possibly be 'squiggly' about my mom? The images I see every time I ask myself that question are horrifying. We asked my dad once why he sometimes calls my mom Peach, and we very much regretted hearing the answer.

"No." My mom pouts, crossing her arms like a child.

My dad bends down, peering into the window with a look of determination. He's not giving her the option to say no. His face says, 'get out or we don't go.'

She flops her head back against the headrest with a dramatic sigh, dropping her head toward me and giving me an eye roll. As if she's really that shocked by my dad's behavior. Nobody is going to take my mom's side on this one. If she drove, it'd take us a week to find Seth's house—if she ever managed to find it at all. She's a stubborn woman when she's behind the wheel but she's also horrifyingly terrible at directions. Believe me, nobody questions where I got my lack of direction from. The two of us thinking we could have driven all the way to Seth and back without getting Search and Rescue called on us was comically ambitious.

Finally, with a grunt of disapproval, my mom drags herself out of the car. Before she's able to open the back door, my dad snags her around the waist and plants a tender kiss on her lips. She softens, a defeated grin lifting her face as she swats my dad's arm. Then they're both finding their seats and the road trip is on.

Look out, Seth Vans, I'm coming for you!

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