Knuckles softly rapped against my door. My eyes shot open, unaware of how much time I spent sprawled on the big bed.
“Dexx, it’s me,” Denver’s soft voice awakened me. “I’m heading downstairs, okay?”
“I’ll . . . I’ll be down in a minute, just . . . just finishing up in here.”
Light footsteps made their way down the stairs. I glanced out my window. The sky blackened to night. I rushed around throwing on some black pants, and a clean sweater. Sticking my head in front of the mirror, I ran my fingers through my messed up hair, and combed it into a quasi-faux hawk. Securing a belt around my waist, I sprinted down the stairs in search of Denver.
As I reached the bottom, Denver’s father cut me off at the landing.
“Hello again, young man.” His eyes crinkled as he gave me a sincere smile. “Feeling well rested from your nap?”
My face flushed at the notion that I had drifted to sleep at his house while I readied myself for dinner.
“Yes, sir . . .”
“Dereck, please.” He squeezed my shoulder firmly.
“Oh here he is, awake at last,” chimed in Debbie.
My face burnt a darker red.
“Ah, my beautiful wife. And she comes bearing goodies,” Dereck chortled.
“Sausage en croute, my dear?”
Debbie held out a plate of flakey hors d’oeurves in front of my face. The buttery scent of crust wafted up my nose. My stomach grumbled loud enough for them to notice. My face flushed fire engine red, enough for my mind to swirl with lightheaded embarrassment, or too much sugar, and not enough solid sustenance.
I lifted my hand and took a piece. I bit into the nice warm pastry. A delicious hotdog nestled inside. My head steadied itself.
“Thank you,” I mumbled meekly.
I munched on the hot treat.
“Dexx!” Denver ran across the floor to greet me. “You clean up nice.” She playfully punched me in the arm.
She looked even more stunning than before, as if that was possible for anyone outside the Davies family. She had changed into a black, silky blouse, and some tight, sequined black leggings. A simple diamond necklace replaced the pearls. Her freshly flat-ironed hair glistened, and hung long down her dainty back.
“Hey, beautiful,” I greeted her, throwing a bit of swagger her way, as my confidence slowly crept back in once the food charged up my system.
Denver jumped, a delicate finch, excited by my compliment.
“Follow me. We’re going to hang out in the family room, eat some appetizers before dinner, and the rest of the festivities.” Her eyes sparkled as she spoke. “Tonight it’s totes casual, just the few of us doing a little decorating, eating a bunch of goodies,” her voice sang out every word.
“Sounds fantastic.”
Denver gripped my hand. I let her guide me across the smooth floor. Dropping my fingers, she ran ahead to the entryway of the family room. I walked in and stood under the mistletoe. I took another bite of sausage when . . . I saw . . . her!
I inhaled deep. A flake from the pastry got caught in my throat. I let out a harsh cough. My eyes watered. The crust popped out, and dangled from my lip. Through my tears, I cast my eyes on my lovely muse, the magnificent Poppy.
Using my arm, I wiped the gooey dough off my lip, and brushed off the crumbs. How could I have forgotten about Poppy? With all of the excitement geared around Denver, my mind lapsed. It drifted away from my Poppy. But, as fast as a roller coaster screeches to a halt, my neck whiplashed. My brain bounced back to my main mission at the first sight of her.
Poppy wore a cream sweater accented with a red bow covered in red flowers. Her pouty lips matched the red ribbon. Her thick hair was tied back in a red band, and cascaded down her shoulder.
An extremely handsome boy gripped both of her small hands in his. He caressed her knuckles with his thumbs. As his head turned, his features dazzled. He looked like he had sprung off a polished poster. An unreal creature from a print ad which came to life in the middle of the room, an anomaly in an otherwise ordinary world. I recognized Declan right away. Flawless skin, dark hair, and a smolder that would knock most girls dead.
My heart thumped loudly in my ears. Denver grabbed some snacks. She exchanged words with her brother, but I didn’t understand anything they said. The blood pumped through my body, banging around with too much cacophony. Denver garbled something in my ear and laughed.
“What?” I asked.
Noise echoed around the room. I was still too shocked by Poppy’s presence to move or make sense of her words.
Poppy beamed at Declan. She patted his hand affectingly, and rose off a nearby chair. She moved toward me. My body stiffened. The world moved in slow motion. She crept closer and closer. She got a few steps away from me. Her smile melted into a pinched frown. Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t look as happy to see me as I was to see her. She finally reached me under the mistletoe, and whispered in my ear.
“What are you doing here?” She sounded pissed off, opposite of her normally chipper disposition.
“Why, I was invited, just like you,” I responded sweetly, ignoring her obvious annoyance with me.
“Are you following me or something? I don’t get it. Why did you come here for Christmas?”
“I thought it might be a nice surprise. So, are you surprised, Poppy? Are you surprised to see me?” I asked eagerly.
Before she could answer, her boyfriend stood up. He was tall, way taller than I had expected. I was taken aback by how tall he was in near proximity. He towered over me. Great! Tall, handsome, perfect. How could I compete? Who was I fooling? What was I doing here? What kind of surprise was this anyway?
Declan walked toward me with the same polite, warm smile as his parents. His runway strut gave off an air of confidence. The type of confidence I attempted to give off at my own gigs, only I didn’t look like him, and couldn’t pull it off like him.
I cleared my throat. I readied myself for our first encounter. Declan shot his hand out in front of his body for me to shake. I lifted my hand to meet his. Instead of grabbing my hand, his fingers wiggled rapidly. His hand balled up in a fist, and shook back and forth. His dark, dreamy eyes shot up in his head. They rolled around, darting every which direction, avoiding my eyes. His face twisted as his hands jerked around. His eyes squinted. His cheek twitched in a tremor.
“I-I-I-I-t-t-t’s-s-s v-e-e-e-r-y n-n-n-i-i-i-c-e t-t-t-o m-e-e-e-t ya-ya-ou,” he stammered with a smile.
I gulped. My body shook with shock.
“Where’s your bathroom,” I whispered.
Declan pointed as his hand shook.
“Please excuse me.”
I ran out of the room.
Chapter 12
Declan
As Denver’s new friend flew off to the restroom, she stomped around the room angrily, snarling nasty words my way, and shooting me dirty looks.
“I-I-I . . .” I raised my hands to my chest to explain.
“Shut up!” she spat.
Nervous, Denver inspected her manicure, and played with her ring, twisting it around her finger. Then, bored waiting for her friend, she flung herself back on the couch and mindlessly stuffed hotdogs in her mouth.
Realizing I needed to move on from the Dexx-running-off-to-the-toilet incident, I turned around and looked up. I found myself under a sprig of pine-scented mistletoe.
Poppy remained by my side during the entire exchange. She looked so lovely tonight. Words poured out of my mind with eloquence, but stuck on my tongue, leaving me unable to produce my inner poetry.
“P-o-o-o-ppy, ya-ya-ou are s-s-s-o-o-o . . .” Frustration only made my stutter worse. It prevented me from finishing the rest of my thoughts. My fingers wiggled as I made a great effort to produce the desired words, and complet
e my sentence.
Instead of finishing the sentence for me, Poppy wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me forward until our bodies touched. Our noses nuzzled, rubbing against each other in a nose-tip kiss. My nostrils inhaled her strawberry lip-gloss scent. Finally, I blathered to my inner-self, our first moment as a couple under the mistletoe.
Poppy ran her hands through my hair, and stroked the back of my head. She kept her nose planted on mine. During times like this, she didn’t feel the need to speak. She let the silence between us speak for itself. She knew the right thing to do every time, and the exact moment to do it. She possessed a unique knack for understanding me.
Still, my words, the ones I practiced in my head a million times, the speech I prepared for this exact moment, were caught in my throat, unable to reach a verbal release. Afraid the moment was lost, I wished hard that Poppy could read my mind.
“S-u-u-u-per-r-r-p-o-o-o-wers-s-s-s,” I managed.
“Superpowers,” Poppy confirmed, taking my cue. She kissed me lightly on the cheek.
I smiled, and pulled her in closer. I hugged her hard, finishing my mistletoe wishes in my head, playing out the rehearsed speech in my mind.
Denver rolled her eyes. She stuck out her tongue at us, sickened by our affectionate display. She crossed her arms around her chest in a humph!
“P-o-o-o-ppy, m-m-m-a-a-a-ybe I-I-I sh-sh-ould p-u-u-u-t my w-w-w-o-o-rds i-i-i-n a-a-a c-c-card.”
Wouldn’t it have been nice if my writing skills and my typing skills were faster than my words, but unfortunately, I wasn’t blessed in that way. My handwriting stank. Taking notes, or writing papers for school, took me forever. And well, I did the old hunt, and peck routine on the keyboard at times when my brain got confused or overwhelmed. I always wished I could catch a break somewhere, somehow, but nope. Oh well.
Poppy shook her head. She didn’t need my words. The moment was enough for her. I rehearsed my speech some more in my head for later. I wasn’t going to give up on what I had to tell her. Wise Poppy, perhaps she knew it was not the right time with my sister present, who was lazily flopped on the couch like a grump.
“Come on, Declan, let’s go to the den, and watch your show.” Poppy pulled my arm.
“B-B-B-u-u-u-t, wh-a-a-a-t a-a-a-bout h-i-i-i-m . . .” I pointed in the direction of the bathroom. We were probably supposed to wait for Denver’s friend.
“Don’t worry about him. He can find his way back.”
“B-B-B-u-u-u-t D-D-D-ancer? H-H-H-e n-n-n-eeds a-a-a w-w-w-a-a-a-lk.” It was my turn to take the puppy out for a walk before dinner.
“Relax, we’ll do it later, together. I promise. Besides, it’s time. Your show starts in two minutes!”
“U-u-u-h!” I groaned, twiddling my fingers. I loathed being late for the intro. It threw off the entire show experience for me.
Poppy snatched a couple plates of appetizers for herself. The kitchen door opened. Dancer sprang out and skittered toward us, tail wagging wildly at the smell of sausages. Mama liked to crate him when we had new guests, but he must have escaped. We swiftly walked to the den. Dancer trotting behind us. I switched on the television.
Relief washed over my body, warm and tingly relief, as the opening sequences rolled. My hands lifted to my chest, and shook loosely. I breathed heavy, and opened my eyes wide with excitement as our favorite cartoon started. Dancer hopped up on the couch and curled up on my lap. I patted his adorable furry head. My body relaxed, at peace with knowing I could catch the entire episode.
“L-o-o-o-k, P-o-o-o-ppy.” I pointed at the screen.
“Shhh, I’m watching.” Poppy rolled on to her stomach, and gobbled up the food as she stared at the show.
“O-o-o-h, s-s-s-o-o-o-rry.”
We sat in silence. I laughed at certain parts. Clenching and unclenching my fists, flapping them rapidly. Dancer dozed. Poppy shifted her body. She relaxed on the couch, stuffed pillows under her head, and rested the cushions under her stomach as she turned about.
As the episode climaxed, and wound down to the closing credits, it occurred to me that Poppy and I needed to talk about some important decisions that I wanted to make about my future. Our future.
“H-H-H-e-e-e-y, l-e-e-e-t’s c-u-u-u-ddle,” I suggested.
Poppy obliged. Comforted by her touch, I yearned to seek refuge in her arms while we talked. My slow pace killed me in a painful way. My intellectual abilities had such sound reason in my head, yet lacked coherence on my tongue. It took so long to get the words out. What sounded so good in my brain came out wrong whenever I decided to express myself. Did that happen to others? I would never know. Only Poppy’s hug would keep me safe while I attempted to make sense of my thoughts. And, I had a lot of thoughts. I deserved a lot of hugs.
“Oooh, hugs, let’s go to your room for a bit of privacy.” She nuzzled my ear and whispered slyly.
I took Dancer off my lap, and encouraged him to find my parents. “G-g-g-o-o-o f-f-f-f-ind M-m-m-a-m-a.” Perhaps she could take the dog for a walk with Dada. That would remove their watchful eyes from the equation, and give me enough time to snuggle my lovely Poppy in peace. Dancer yipped, and scattered toward the kitchen.
Free from my parents’ iron rule, Poppy was the naughtiest of all of us. She never liked to follow any of the rules. Plus, she was pretty sneaky, she rarely got caught. As for myself, well, when I didn’t follow the rules I got antsy, and anxious, which sent my ticks into overdrive.
My body reacted eagerly to Poppy’s voice, her touch, her entire being. She sent my senses into a wild collision course of wonderful, but I needed Poppy to listen to me, and take my words seriously. We needed to have an important conversation.
“You lead the way, Declan,” she hummed in my ear and put her hands on my chest.
I looked around to make sure the hall was clear. I lifted her off the couch. We ran to my room.
Poppy flew into the bedroom, and shut the door. She pounced on my bed. She dove under the covers and rolled around, creasing up the sheets, wrinkling the bedspread. She flipped the covers over her head, concealing her body. The lump moved around like Dancer playing under the sheets. Her hand shot out from under the duvet. Her finger wiggled invitingly. It summoned me to join her. Having shut the door and enclosed herself in my covers, she broke my family’s rule about having a guest in our room. Naughty Poppy. She didn’t seem to care.
“Oh, Declan, come here,” she called.
A devious grin spread across my lips. I rubbed my hands together, and took a step toward the bed. My body willed me to join her under the sheets, free from the rules. Instead, I stopped. My hand found its way back to the knob. I opened my door. Guilt curdled my rebellion, preventing me from going against Mama and Dada’s wishes.
Poppy flipped the covers off her body, and sat up. Stray strands of hair lifted out of her ponytail. Cowlicks of hair stood straight up. The static electricity worked its magic. It created a freaky crown of billowy hair on top of her head. I chuckled, then covered my lips to wipe away my smile. She took her hands, and smoothed the hair back in place.
“What’s wrong?” Poppy frowned, giving me her cute puppy dog eyes. “I thought you wanted to cuddle.”
“I-I-I d-d-d-o, b-b-b-u-u-u-t, I-I-I a-l-s-s-s-o-o-o w-w-w-a-a-a-nt t-t-t-o t-t-t-a-a-a-lk.”
“Okay, let’s talk.” Poppy crawled out from underneath the sheets, and bounced on top of the bed, landing on her bottom.
“I-I-I-t’s s-o-o-o h-a-a-rd s-o-o-o-metimes. I-I-I w-i-i-i-sh ya-ya-ou c-c-c-ould hear-r-r-r m-m-m-y thoughts.”
“But I can. I can hear your thoughts. Remember? I have superpowers. I can read your mind.”
“D-D-D-a-a-a-rn! I-I-I w-i-i-i-sh I-I-I h-a-a-a-d s-s-s-s-u-u-u-per-p-o-o-o-wers!” I dropped my head in defeat.
“But you do! You do have superpowers, my sweet Declan. Just like
me.”
“N-o-o-o! I-I-I-t d-o-o-oesn’t f-e-e-e-l l-i-i-i-ke i-i-i-t t-o-o-o m-m-m-e-e-e.”
“You do. Use your imagination. It’s simple. You just have to believe. Like you believe in Christmas. Don’t think too hard. In fact, don’t think at all. Believe! Believe with your heart! Believe with your soul. Believe, Declan, just believe!”
“I-I-I c-a-a-a-n’t! I-I-I-t’s t-o-o-o-o h-h-h-a-a-a-rd,” I griped, annoyed that Poppy possessed such powers that I couldn’t seem to master. Maybe I wasn’t a superhero after all.
Alas, the silly superhero conversation superseded what was originally on my mind, causing the more important topic of conversation to drift from my thoughts. Poof! I had wanted to talk to Poppy about something, but it faded from light to dark, a stubborn raincloud that drifted away in the wind. I reached out for it. I tried to hold on to my thoughts, but they slipped through my fingers, and floated off, evaporating into nothingness.
Other more pressing thoughts filled my head, like superpowers. Villains. Heroes. I had lost track of my main purpose. I had sidetracked my mind again with my superhero obsession. And, no matter how hard I fought to bring back the memories of my intended conversation, the urge to discuss Batman got in the way, and won with a powerful punch.
My mind erased yet another prepared speech, and dug this one up instead. “I-I-I-f, i-i-i-f ya-ya-ou could b-b-b-e-e-e a-a-a-ny ch-a-a-a-racter, w-w-w-h-h-h-o-o-o would i-i-i-t b-b-b-e-e-e?”
Poppies for Christmas Page 11
