Flavors of Love | COMPLETE

Chapter 19

Things are... worse, to say the least. Things get worse.

Mom comes home with hangovers nearly every day all week, and disappears the night before Thanksgiving, only to show up at two P.M. the next day. Me and Andrew are still tense. I'm stressed out. I have nothing to do but worry. I spend most of every day in hoodies under the covers watching YouTube videos on my phone, and only enjoying myself when Sam calls after work. He invites me to camp out at his house for a couple days, but I turn him down. No point. Someone has to watch Mom, and Andrew can't be trusted to.

When Owen gets home from his trip, it feels like the happiest day of my life. He pulls up outside my house and I fly outside to him, letting him crush me in a hug.

"Hey, baby." The sound of his easy, gentle voice just melts me. "I missed you."

"I missed you too!" I'm nearly crying, I'm so happy. "You have no idea!"

He steps back to look at me. "Are you okay?" There's real concern in his voice.

"I-- it's been exhausting without you."

He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know... I didn't mean to. I had to go, you know?"

"I know." I brush him off, but he doesn't stop.

"Do you need anything? Let me make you lunch. Is it something someone said?"

"What?"

"You don't have to worry about how you look in front of me. I swear, I'll love you the same no matter if you don't think you're skinny enough."

For a moment, I don't understand, and then my pajama bottoms and baggy sweater click together in my head with the story he told me about his sister.

"Oh!" I almost laugh in surprise, but I know this isn't the moment. "No, it's not that. It's nothing like that. I'm just cozy. I was just sad."

"Okay," he says, but he still makes me a big plate of food for lunch and keeps stealing worried glances at me. I don't blame him. I know how hard it is to separate triggers and trauma. I change into something more normal after lunch, and he relaxes. I snuggle into him on the couch and comfort him with words about how I know he loves me and I'm not worried about my weight.

In the middle of this, though, Andrew comes downstairs and stops dead, staring at the two of us like we murdered his grandfather and he's never forgiven us. I realize this is the first time they've both been in the house together.

"James," he says, stalking into the room. It takes me a moment to remember that this is Owen's last name.

"Carson," says Owen coldly. He's stiff and detached looking, and I scoot away from him, not wanting to get caught between the beams of hatred shooting from the eyes of the two boys I love most in the world.

"Hey," I say, "Hey, let's all just calm down."

"You be careful with my sister," says Andrew dangerously, ignoring me and pacing ever closer.

"You be careful with my girlfriend." Owen yields the word like a weapon.

Andrew winces. "If you hurt her--"

"If you hurt her--"

"I swear, James. I will kill you personally if you so much as lay a finger on her."

Owen smirks at him. "Ah. It's a bit late for that. I already have."

Andrew is literally shaking with rage. I've never seen him this angry, and I'm scared.

"Hey," I try again, but my voice comes out a squeak. "Guys--"

They continue to ignore me.

"I will kill you, Owen James. I will make you pay, if you DARE--"

"You know," says Owen, cutting across him and lazily stretching his arms, so that one of them comes down and tightens around my shoulders like a snake, "I would watch it. If I recall correctly, the person hurting her these past few weeks has been you, not me."

"Claire," says Andrew. I squirm out from under Owen's arm at the look Andrew gives me. "All you have to do is say the word, okay? I won't let him do anything to you," he growls.

"Okay," I squeak. I can't think of anything to say to break the tension. My mind feels like it's been scrubbed blank by panic.

"I'd leave, if I were you," says Owen to Andrew. "Your sister and I were in the middle of some-- ah-- quality time."

Andrew makes a noise like an outraged squawk and turns on his heel, nearly running from the room on stiff legs.

"Now." Owen smirks at me. "Where were we?"

***

I'm really glad to have Owen with me for the last few weeks of the semester, despite the tension it brings.

As we plow through homework and studying for finals, his company keeps me sane. I can tell Andrew is still mad at me, but we don't talk about it anymore. Owen studies together with me and Sara, and I greatly look forward to our time together.

Most of all, I'm looking forward to Christmas. I'm looking forward to getting a present, but more importantly, I'm looking forward to giving Owen a present. I want to be the one to buy him something, and see his face light up when he receives it.

The only trouble is, I'm not sure what to get him.

"Hey," I question him casually one afternoon, "What are you hoping to get for Christmas?"

Owen, who's sprawled out next to me on his couch playing video games, grins. "I dunno. A new Switch, maybe. Some nice dress pants and a tie. I hope my dad gets me some snacks from the Mexican grocery store we shop at. A bike. Normal stuff. How 'bout you?"

"Hmm... snacks. Clothes. There's this Chapstick I really like, too, and some new foundation, but it'll be expensive."

"Huh."

"What do you want me to get you?"

"Oh. You don't have to get me anything."

For a moment, I'm stumped. Of course I have to get him something? But what? Something heartfelt, not just a bag of chips or something, but he'd catch on if I asked him for enough information to buy him clothes. I watch him chewing his lip like he always does when he concentrates.

I'm not much good with presents. Christmas has always been small with our family-- more so since Dad left, too-- and we usually just buy off a list. But I want this to be special. I want this Christmas to be unique. I want Owen to know just how much I care about him.

It's hard to express all that in something you wrap in a box, though. It's hard to express all that at all.

***

The answer comes to me several days later, when I wake up for school, and it's perfect. It's just what he needs, and I'm sure he'd love it-- not to mention that I'm incredibly proud of myself for remembering.

All I have to do is find one.

I manage to talk Jaclyn into shopping with me on Friday afternoon, and I drag her all through town, from bookstores to Hobby Lobby. We find what we're looking for in a hardware store after literally a few hours of looking, and I'm so relived, I let out a whoop that earns me a glare from an employee. Jacyln, joining in my excitement, does a little dance, and together, we boogie to the cash registers to check out.

When I get home, I wrap it carefully, and letter him a card about everything I've been feeling lately and how important it is to me. Then I tape the card to the package, sit back, and smile to myself.

This is going to me by best Christmas ever.

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