I woke up early-ish on Christmas morning. Eight-thirty or nine. The house was fucking cold, so I walked downstairs in the buff and turned on the heat.

Even while my folks are away, I still feel the need to adhere to their rules: heat goes off at night.

The house was silent. I was feeling depressed, and it was only getting worse. Empty house. No tree. No family. No friends. No presents. No cheesy christmas music. Nothing.

First christmas alone, ever. I didn't like it.

~

She opened her present, and pulled out the first pair of earrings and screamed. Literally screamed. Then she threw the present away from her.

I thought she was joking at first, and I laughed, until I realized she was sobbing into her hands and casting terrified glances at the upsidedown card.

I knew what card it was. It was the one with two brooches, both lifelike enameled beetles. I knew she would either love them, or be totally squicked out.

I didn't think she'd scream. I grabbed the card and hid it in a cupboard.

It took her hours to calm down again. Her sister checked all the remaining earrings to make sure I hadn't included any other terrifying ones.

~

I put on sloppy red long underwear, and a thin sweater, but no socks, because my mother hates it when I wear no socks, but she was in Cuba, so what ever.

The streets were empty, silent. It snowed the night before, and the world was shades of white snow and black, naked trees.

I cranked the heat higher.

I checked my ebay standings. Presents for myself. I'm making enough money right now that I'm actually spending money on jewelry. It won't last, but I want a few little baubles to remember the wealthier times.

Breakfast. Breakfast was instant noodles and a tin of canned pinapple, washed down with expired Coke that I thieved from my mother's stash.

I know it sounds gross, but it was the one tradition I could stick with. Instant noodles were always forbidden foods, which we were only allowed at Christmas.

~

Waiting for a taxi outside the grocery store. A car rolls by slowly, and I look at the driver. It's a man I don't know, whose passenger is my old best friend from high school.

We drifted apart (my fault) after high school, because she refused to grow up. Long story short.

She smiled, it was brittle and too bright, and waved. I smiled back and waved.

She got out to talk to me.

I didn't ask what she was doing, because I was pretty sure I knew. Living in her parents' place, being daddy's little girl (much to his chagrin), and losing jobs.

She asked what I was doing, and I told her, in brief. Living on the coast, working in theatre, the usual. I didn't mention this movie job.

After a while her silent companion drifted into the grocery store, and blessedly, so did she.

~

We'd been laughing all evening. Smoking a little, drinking a lot. Tried watching a movie, but it didn't go well because there was too much talking.

She was acting a little odd. I wasn't sure what was up.

Standing in the kitchen. She's at the stove, I'm leaning against the wall, alternately staring out the window at the snow coming down, and reading a book on art.

I can't remember what we'd been talking about, but all of a sudden her hand was on my back, and she was looking at me with all seriousness.

"Do you want to smooge?" Her eyes flick to my mouth.

"Smooge?" I say with a confused half smile, my mouth faster than my brain.

Just as quickly she says: "Never mind." and her hand leaves my back, leaving a cold spot.

My brain catches up. Did she just ask me to make-out? This friend of fifteen years, old enough to be my mother?

I think she did. She stands silently at the stove, and I make a show of reading the art book. Silence stretches between us, vast and empty and cold.

"Man," I say, pretending like I still don't know what she meant, "there is a lot of pottery in this book."

"Yes," she says, but she doesn't look around.

~

Rosie. The text pops up in our chat window.

Wha? I reply. We'd been having playful banter, this friend and I. Him, hiding from his family, me, filling my empty house with faraway friends.

There is a long moment of silence. I see him typing, then stopping, then typing again.

Finally he says:

I was going to say something serious for once, but I decided not to.

I worry that some day he'll profess his undying love. I want our friendship to stay the way it is.

I want all my friendships to stay the way they are.

Okay. I say, and leave it at that.

~

I ran into her sister in the mall. She tells me my friend passed out in the bathroom after I left, and is still sleeping.

I feel guilty. She'd been acting odd. I should have made sure she got to bed okay, but I was feeling weird and uncomfortable. I just wanted to get out.

I sent her a text, asking if she was okay, and didn't hear anything back.

~

Walking home. Drunk, weirded out. It's midnight, and there is not a soul in sight.

The streets are quiet and icy, and I watch my feet to make sure I don't fall.

I don't know what made me look up, but I did.

Ahead, at the crest of the hill, stood the biggest canine I had ever seen. It looked like a huge white wolf. Shaggy hair, long nose, huge paws. I wasn't sure it wasn't a wolf.

It looked at me with quietly intelligent eyes, fully facing me. It knew I was there, it knew what I was.

I stopped. What do you do? My first thought was that my roommate, who loves wolves, would love to see this.

My second was wondering what I was going to do.

The animal looked at me, and I looked at the animal. I didn't see any people. I didn't hear any people.

Then, in my adrenheline and alcohol haze, I notice the tiniest red tag peeking out of its fur at its throat. I see no collar, but the tag is unmistakeable.

Then I hear a whistle, and a call, and the dog looks over as two people round the corner.

"Friendly?" I ask as the animal trots over to me.

"Oh, VERY," one of the people calls back, so I pull off my gloves and scratch his bum.

I have made a new best friend. A new, huge, wolf-like best friend.

"He's a wolf cross," the owner tells me. "Kind of shows, hey?"

KIND OF.

He was big as a great dane, leaner than a wolf, but with the face and paws and fur length.

~

It doesn't feel like home, here. Not anymore.

No family. Most of my friends are gone. The ones that are still here are stuck in terrible loops of self pity and poverty.

I feel like my old hometown is squeezing me out like a pimple and telling me never to come back.

I keep searching for the place that feels like home, somewhere I can really resonate with, but so far...no luck.

It's somewhere, somewhere out there. I just gotta keep looking.

~

Merry Christmas, eh.

.

Rosie.

Before&After