Christmas morning is always cold.
Fresh snow is falling outside. It’s piled up on the windowsill, blocking out the sunlight.
Naomi is soft in my arms.
She spent the night in one of my shirts. It swallows her. Still, it looks good on her.
I press a kiss to the top of her head, but she doesn’t move. Gently, I unwind my arms from her and peel out.
I’ve got a pair of PJ pants on. I have slippers under my bed, and I put those on as well.
We were good last night. PG.
We kissed, but that was all. Anything more wouldn’t have felt right. Not when we were both heavy with emotion, like sponges that have yet to be squeezed out.
Holding her felt good, though. Soul-healing. We both needed it, I think. More than we knew, maybe.
She’s deep asleep. Her lips are parted, her eyebrows relaxed. I pet her hair back from her face and then get to my feet. Quietly, I exit the bedroom, leaving the door just slightly ajar. I go into my kitchen instead. I’ve got an automatic coffee machine, so I pop a pod in and open my cabinet.
I pick out my favorite mug—the race car. I make myself a cup of coffee, a little sugar, a little cream. Then I carry it with me to the window and watch the snow fall.
My windows are long, floor-to-ceiling fixtures. In the summer, I get to watch sailboats cruise across the ocean. Now, my view is wiped clean. As though someone took a big eraser and got rid of all of Hannsett Island.
Nothing but me and Naomi left.
“God, that’s beautiful,” she says.
I glance over my shoulder. Naomi has crawled out of the bedroom. She curls up on my couch, pulling a quilt over her bare legs to keep warm. Like me, she’s watching the snowfall. I don’t care who you are—it’s impossible not to get entranced by the falling snow.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “It is.”
She smiles at me. Then she nods toward my coffee. “Think you can make one of those for me?”
I almost go to the kitchen, and then I hesitate. I stare at the mug in my hand.
I make a choice.
“You can have this one,” I tell her. I hold it out for her to take.
“Thanks.” She wraps her hands around the race car and tilts the mug to her lips.
She’ll keep it safe. I can trust her with things that are important to me. I can let go. And it does feel good, seeing it in her hands.
Just then, my phone buzzes.
I pull it out of my pocket and check my texts. I feel a smile slowly draw over my lips.
“Good news?” Naomi asks. I can hear the hopeful note in her voice.
“It’s a Christmas miracle.” I lift my eyes to meet hers. “Otto is getting a new kidney.”
