“There,” I said with a grunt. I stood proudly in front of the small Christmas tree I’d pilfered from the fancy apartment complex dumpster down the way.

I reached out to perk up the broken branch hanging at an odd angle, the fake needles tinged a darker shade of green and curled at the ends. “We’ll get you lookin' pretty again. Don’t you worry,” I said with a soft pat to the top of the tree.

“And why is there a half-burnt Christmas tree in the living room?” came a disgruntled voice.

Someone had finally decided to emerge for the afternoon.

“Oh, hey Kyle,” I said, still poking at my prize. “I found it! Isn’t it perfect? We can decorate it and stick a few lights on it.”

“Yeah, I know what to do with a Christmas tree, but why is it here?” he said with a huff, crossing his arms to glare at the tree and then at me.

I crossed my arms defensively. “’Cause I put it there and we needed a tree. What other reason do you need?” Then it hit me. “Oh, crap! Do you not celebrate Christmas?! I, uh…” I scrambled to pick it up. “I’ll put it in my room.”

“No. No, wait,” Kyle said in a rush, hand reaching towards me. “That’s not what I meant.”

I stopped to examine him. “So what did you mean?”

“I just—” He shifted the motion of his extended hand, dragging it down his face. “Where did you get it?” The patience in his voice was evident in the slow pace of his words.

“From the dumpster down the way. It was just sitting there.”

“We didn’t need a tree.”

“Uh, I beg to differ. I’m not spending Christmas without a tree.”

“Should you really have been dumpster diving with your injury? I just wrapped you up this morning.”

“Hm. Valid point, but I’m fine.” I waved off his concern. Christmas was more important than proper recovery. Besides, sitting around would only make me feel worse.

“I wish you would stop digging through dumpsters.”

“And I wish you’d stop being such a Scrooge. Guess we’ll both be disappointed. Besides, we wouldn’t have a single chair in this joint if it weren’t for my diving skills. Now help me decorate it.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Oh yes you are. Remember what happened with the pumpkins during Halloween?”

His eyes grew wide. With fear probably. I grinned without mercy. Someone had been afraid of pumpkin guts, and it turned out to be his downfall.

“Fine,” he grated.

“Great!” I cheered. “Here’s paper and here’s scissors. I’ll go get the music.”

So, hours passed, and turns out it’s possible for Kyle to relax if he’s being serenaded with Christmas spirit by Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra.

“Shoot!” I cried out, looking down at my watch. “Is it that late?!”

Kyle looked up, concerned. “Why? What is it?”

I spun around and sprinted for my room. “Church is at six tonight! It’s candlelight Christmas Eve service. I can’t miss it!”

“Well, at least slow down!” he called to me. “No need getting yourself even more hurt just to make it on time.”

“I’ll be—” BANG “—fine!” I yelled back, my now throbbing knee failing to slow me down as I ran to my room and slammed the door shut.

A long, drawn-out sigh carried through the door as I yanked on a good pair of jeans and threw on a passably nice shirt. Grabbing my coat, hat, and gloves, I dodged my way through the hallway, getting to the kitchen in record time. I bent over and stuffed my sockless feet into my snow boots and reached up to yank the door open, missed the handle, then tried again with more success.

“Stupid door handle,” I muttered to myself. “Later Kyle!” I yelled back into the apartment. “You better not be asleep by the time I get back! We’ve got a long night ahead of us!”

“Ughhhh! Are you kidding me!” he yelled back.

And with that, I was out the door and on my bike. I sure hoped I could make it the two miles to church with a messed-up stomach… and ribs. I’d hurt pretty bad all day, but I didn’t want Kyle to worry any more than he already was. Plus, we were havin’ too much fun. It was nice to forget about all the bad stuff for just a little while.

Now to church! (Imaginary finger pointed forward and just slightly up, poised as stoically as possible, channeling George Washington crossing the Delaware energy.)

Zoom! Swish! Screech! Vroom!

As I plopped down in my usual pew across the way from Old Lady Barlie, the preservice organ music calmed me, and it got me to thinking pretty deeply for a Christmas Eve. I realized I’ve always appreciated singing the time-honored hymns with the powerful resonance of an organ vibrating to my core, knowing that generations before have sung these songs, and generations after will continue to do the same. The beautiful melodies and heart wrenching lyrics were capable of bringing even the most stoic to misty-eye headquarters.

And then there was the immense relief in knowing that no matter what, everything would be okay. 

There are times I get so caught up in all the confusing happenings of life, that I forget the bigger picture. That, sure, maybe I almost failed a semester of college. And maybe I was mixed up in a bad crowd now. And I really hoped nothing too crazy was going to come from that. At least, nothing crazier. But I can sleep easy knowing that there’s more to life than our mistakes.

The service that night reminded me of that. There’s a guy named Jesus who saved us from our sin. Who paid for our mistakes. And thank goodness He did. If it was all up to me alone, I’d be screwed. We’d all be screwed. It was a fact I hoped would get me through all this.

So you’d think I’d be at peace as I sat in the pew, lit candle in my hands and singing Silent Night, but I was terrified. Terrified I was going to lose myself. Terrified that by doing what was necessary, I’d miss out on doing what was right. And what was right?

It was too late now to go back. The mark on my stomach would be a constant reminder of that. Because it wasn’t just about me anymore. I had pulled not only my future into this twisted game, but friends and family as well.

As the service ended, I shook myself free of such thoughts, instead immersing myself in the beaming smiles of friends and especially Old Lady Barlie, who’s been a constant support for me all these years away from home. I really should’ve talked to her about my whole mess before it even began. But then she’d be mixed up in it all too, and I couldn’t have that.

So with a final wave goodbye, I set off into the night once more.

I zippididooda-dayed it back to the apartment. Rejuvenated and jacked up on that Christmas adrenaline, I burst through our apartment door, flinging snow everywhere.

“I’m back!” I called out.

“Ughh,” came a groan from the living room. “‘Bout time, nerd. You know how much coffee I had to drink to stay awake?”

“I love the enthusiasm but don’t appreciate the tone,” I answered back, completely unmoved by his negativity.

I removed my winter gear and laid it on the table, then moseyed into the living room to see Kyle splayed out on the floor, surrounded by paper clippings.

“Check this out.” I waved the objects grasped in my hands around, catching his attention. “I made a special little stop on my way back from church.”

He scrunched up his face. “What is that? Sparkling juice?”

“Nope,” I declared. “Even better. It’s a whole two bottles of hard apple cider that I happen to know is someone’s favorite.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” I said proudly, hoisting them high.

He put an arm over his eyes and chuckled softly, unable to hold back a grin. “Dang it, Sawyer. It’s not what I need, but is absolutely what I want.” He swung up and into a cross-legged position, sticking out a hand. “Hand one over.”

“HaHA,” I cried out. “VICTORY! We have victory!”

“Stop it with your stupid Lord of the Rings quotes and just hand it over already. I deserve this for staying up so late.”

“What is it? Eight o’clock?” I countered, handing him the bottle. “How could you possibly go to bed this early on Christmas Eve of all days.”

He popped the lid off. “If I said beauty sleep, would that satisfy you?”

“No.”

“Well too bad.” He took a chug from the bottle. “’Cause that’s all you’re getting.”

“Fine, whatever, Diva. But to get this party really started…” I set down my hard cider and scurried over to the bookshelf.

“Oh great, what now?”

“We need a little Christmas spirit!” I proclaimed, proudly holding up my favorite Christmas movie.

He leaned forward and read the cover. “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation,” he said slowly. “Huh. I haven’t seen that one.”

“What!!” I screeched, completely shook. “How have you not seen this movie? It is one of the greatest Christmas films of all time.”

He leaned back on one arm. “Guess my family just wasn’t that big on holidays, but if you say it’s good, it’s gotta be worth the watch.”

“Oh heck yeah! That’s what I’m talking about.” I pumped my fist in the air and danced a circle on my tip toes. This was gonna be one heck of a night. I was so freaking pumped.

I woke up, as one does. My mouth tasted like the juices dripping from a raccoon corpse that had been sitting underneath a snow pile all winter and was finally thawing out in the warm spring sun. Squinting open my crusty eyes and taking in a life-giving breath, my gaze traveled around the room. I rubbed my eyes, trying to see.

“What century is it?” I croaked out to no one in particular.

I jumped when a voice across the room muttered, “The twenty-first, but don’t quote me on it.”

I squinted over at what I had thought to be a blanket pile in the corner, but it was, in fact, Kyle. I guess we’d fallen asleep on the floor after the movie last night.

“Ugh,” I shivered. “Why do I feel so gross inside?”

“Probably because you made the bad decision of bringing alcohol home last night and combined it with that huge bag of butterfingers,” answered the blanket lump.

“Wait.” I smacked my hands down on the floor. “Wait, wait, wait…  that means…” I gasped, “It’s Christmas.” I sprang from the floor and ran to the kitchen, then ran back. “It’s Christmas! Merry Christmas, Kyle!”

His head poked from the blanket hovel, tired eyes staring blankly ahead. “Yay,” he cheered, half-heartedly waving his hands back n’ forth.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” I was finally standing still. “What time is it?”

“If I answer that question too, will you promise to stop vibrating? It’s freaking me out.” Kyle rubbed his face.

I took a few deep breaths. “Okay, okay.”

He looked at his watch. “It’s six thirty a.m.”

“HaHA! We still have time to open presents before going to church. Score!”

“Woah, woah. Hold on a sec.” Kyle waved a hand through the air. “Who said anything about me going to church with you?”

“You could finally meet Old Lady Barlie,” I pleaded. “She knows loads about you already.”

“Why does she let you call her that?”

“Huh?” I paused my musings over one of the wrapped packages in my hands. “She’s never told me to stop.” I whirled on him. “So will you come?”

“No,” he answered flatly.

“Oh come on, Kyle. It’s Christmas.”

He looked at me with what must’ve been trepidation. I stopped and slowly put the present back near the pilfered Christmas tree, before turning to face him.

I’d forgotten church made him uncomfortable, so I said sincerely, “Hey. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I totally understand. But, the offer’s there if you want to take it. I promise it won’t be stressful. Just a lot of singing and happy greetings, ‘kay.”

He looked up at me warily, still not sold on the idea, I could tell. “Whatever you say, Sawyer. I guess I’ll think about it.”

“M’kay,” I chirped back. “In the meantime, let’s open these presents!”

“Wait. Presents?” Kyle shot back with a panicked look.

“Don’t worry. I bought some for myself too.”