No Noël | ✓

11 » my little jack frost

11 » my little jack frost

❅

It had been two days since Avery and I ditched the office for a day of trying to get into the Christmas spirit. It was safe to say we didn't exactly accomplish the task—meaning, I sure as hell didn't get into any Christmas spirit—but we accomplished something else.

I wasn't sure if Avery knew it or not, but she opened my eyes. It was sad to hear her talk of her dog, and even sadder to see that obvious pain on her face, but in a way, it was exactly what we needed.

Or it was at least what I needed. I might have sounded sadistic as fuck, but I liked knowing I wasn't the only loser who suffered during this time. I wasn't the only one who didn't see Christmas as the one time a year where everything was great.

Unlike my mother and her entire side of the family who saw Christmas as the golden time of the year, where nothing could go wrong so long as you sang your carols and decorated your gingerbread houses. That was a huge part of the reason for why I didn't want to go back home for the holiday. She never understood my point of view, she never took the time to listen. I swore if she and my father would've just taken a second, a single second, to hear what my brother or I had to say, a lot of the DeJesus family problems would've been solved.

But alas, they were the most self-absorbed people I knew. Especially once this holiday rolled around. And my own mother had a grudge against me because of it. Because I was born on her favorite day and couldn't have given less of a shit about it.

Angel was bullied a lot when we were younger for being born on Valentine's day, but I would've traded spots with him in a heartbeat to stop hearing people sing The First Noel whenever I came around during the month of December. The people who sang it all year round were just assholes.

Case in point: my coworkers.

"Noel, Noel!" came Peter's offkey pitch as I rounded the corner. "What are you still doing here, Noel?"

He sang the entire question, and I was sure the cup in my hand would've cracked had it been made of glass. "You sound like a fucking dying cat."

I glanced over my shoulder, hoping Avery wasn't around. I'd been hyper aware of her presence and my words ever since our talk. I didn't want her thinking I was poking fun at her pain.

"I'm just shocked you're here," Peter commented as he swirled around in his seat. "I thought this was your Saturday off."

I had a deal with Violet to get every other Saturday off in exchange for a weekday. While I liked working with Peter and Kimberly over anyone else in the office, I had made sure to purposely pick the Saturdays over Sundays. Neither of them worked on a Sunday, and John only allowed me to come in for a few hours that day. I honestly got more work done in those few hours than I did throughout the rest of the work week.

"I'm supposed to be, but I gotta finish this dumbass project for tomorrow," I told Peter as I retook my seat.

I glanced at the time, noting that it was almost six o'clock. I was let go hours ago, as John never liked having me here too long on a weekend anyway. He preferred handing me the bigger projects that were called in on a Monday and giving me the week to sort it out, to then have it all done by the weekend when it was needed. These smaller projects handed out now were for the less talented writers—aka, Peter and Kimberly.