18/12- Forgiveness- I'll Wish You A Merry Merry Christmas

Contemporary

They will be torn apart by a silly argument, spiralling from their childhood. Though they will have been close, a single thought will rip them part, sending them to different countries, so they'll never stumble upon each other again. It's a shame, really, because they will have had so much fun together. But their love will be blinded by childish grudges.

Mrs Thorne will keep touch with her parents, who’ll be the best grandparents you could imagine. They’ll spoil their grandchildren rotten.

Mr Waze will cut everyone off. All his family. He will be sure that they wronged him, because in his eyes, there was favouritism within the family. His sister will have been the one with love, with praise. They never would have wanted him.

She will have been trying to help the equality, but he will be sure that she had been pretending to care and see everything from his perspective.

No one will care.

Even his (almost) ex-wife. She’ll decide to divorce him because of a disagreement on how they will raise their kids. Mr Waze won’t even want any kids.

He will kick the rocks on the pavement, and one will ping against a car.

"Ah!" He'll scream out into the empty street. It'll be late -- very late --, and he will have just come home after a business trip, only to find out the locks changed. He'll still have his car, but where else will he even go?

It will be better to just mindlessly wander the street, in hopes of waking up from this terrible, terrible dream. But he won't wake up. This'll be his hole, which he dug for himself, and he will have to climb out of it.

Mrs Throne will be pleased with her life, with her little family. She'll love them with all her heart, with a good job, and a good husband, and a good heart. But one thing will be missing from her life, and no, it won't be fame, or winning the lottery, or a house with a white picket fence.

Her brother. The games. The fun. The safety. The closeness.

She will see her brother and younger self within her kids, as they live life, as if reliving hers. They'll be so much alike. Her youngest will even have her brother's bright blue eyes.

At that moment, as she'll stand in the kitchen with her kids' Christmas lists in hand, she will peer out of the window.

Snow.

Gorgeous, precious, falling snow. It'll land on her windowsill, where her snowdrop flowers would grow in the spring. The snow will quickly pile up, and she'll stand still, not sure what she was meant to be doing.

Mr Waze will see the snow hours later, because he'll be halfway across the world. It'll prompt him to hide in his car and start the engine.

And go nowhere.

He'll want to go home, though he'll be unsure where that was. All his 'homes' had rejected him.

But one.

Don't be stupid. He'll tell himself. You can't travel that far because of an impulse. The temptation will become more irresistible by the minute.

She will have stopped staring out of the window, and will be helping her kids learn their lines for the Christmas concert at school, meanwhile making dinner. A multi-tasking nightmare. It'll be Quinn's last one, so everyone will have to practice with her. Each family member will be assigned a variety of roles. Even Dad will be involved, rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath.

Mum will have already memorised all of the lines, out of the sheer number of times they've gone through it. But Quinn won't remember half of her lines.

The play will be about world traditions, two of which Quinn will actually be a part of, being multicultural. But no. She'll forget everything.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Don't go!" Mrs Throne will exclaim, because it'll be the kids' Christmas gifts.

"Why?" They will pretend to moan.

"They're my secret presents. I have to hold onto these for Santa. Some children are going to be getting these soon."

"So Santa doesn't take them?" one of Quinn's brothers will raise an eyebrow.

"No... he has to pick them up from a lot of his little helpers, like me, otherwise his sleigh would fall out of the sky."

"But--"

"Please just let me get the door." She'll back up towards the door, looking intensely at her children so that they'll run up the stairs and not look.

Mrs Thorne will open the door and let out a half-delighted, half-shocked scream. Mr Waze will ask if he can enter. Very awkwardly.

"What are you doing here?" She'll shake his shoulder before gripping him in a hug.

"I'm still not quite sure of that myself." His smile will be weak, with a hint of regret pulling at it.

"You dumb, dumb, dumb boy." She will pull him into the house, unable to think clearly. "You're back, you're back." Tears will stain her vision.

"I know, I know. But do we have to speak in double?"

"Yes! We have so much to talk about. Why? How? When?"

"I got on a plane at 7:00 to come maybe.... stay with you? I sort of... m-my wife."

"Ok. You don't need to explain now. We'll figure that all later. Right now you have to meet my kids. And see our parents! I'll call them--"

"No. They probably hate me." Mr Throne will find them in the entryway.

"They don't hate you." Mrs Thorne will soothe her brother. "We all missed you. Please."

"I hate that you're saying 'please' when I should be. I'm sorry I left you."

"All water under the bridge!" She will stand on the first stair, looking upstairs. "Quinn! Harry! Will! Come here!" The three of them will tumble down, looking at their Uncle with curiosity.

"You're old!" Harry will shout.

"I am now."

"Who are you?" Quinn will ask. She and her Uncle will have the same bright blue eyes, and she'll gaze at his intensely.

Thank you for reading. I hope you got a little Christmas joy from this story. Here, for anyone who wants it, is the maintenance.

If you enjoyed this story, please, please, please (I can add a cherry if necessary) like, comment, rate and share. It really helps me out and allows others to see these (hopefully decent) stories. Thank you, and Merry Christmas.