All This Time(44)

A group of kids crowd around the window outside the toy store, their breath fogging the glass as they gaze at the train set in the window, chugging along its miniature track.

“Do kids even play with trains anymore?” I ask Marley. Her cheeks and nose are a soft red, and a thick yellow scarf is bunched around her neck. “Is that a thing?”

“I guess so.” She tucks her arm into mine, taking in a deep breath of that cinnamon and pine, a smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t expect to love this. Every year, Mom tries to get me to come with her, but since Laura…”

I kiss the top of her head. “Thank you for coming with me.”

This one took a bit of convincing, but she finally relented yesterday, our trips to the movie theater and to the coffee shop by the Times making this step just a little bit easier.

She gazes at a group of preteens buying roasted chestnuts from a vendor, her hand reaching up to touch the pink sapphire necklace hidden under her scarf, her eyes distant.

Laura.

Every now and then a dark, inescapable cloud rolls over Marley, the heaviness of her guilt still keeping its grip on her.

I squeeze her tightly, my eyes landing on a teal-and-white booth, my high school football team’s annual fundraiser at the Winter Festival. I watch as a guy with brown hair wearing a letterman jacket picks up one of the footballs and throws a perfect spiral through a dangling hoop, giving his blond-haired girlfriend the stuffed-animal prize.

Kim, my brain thinks instantly. She loved this festival, even though she made fun of it.

Marley and I are both still healing, I guess. But I think we’ve come a long way over the last month, the weight of the grief lifting with every passing day.

I mean, Marley is actually here, at the crowded Winter Festival. That’s… pretty freaking huge.

“Hey,” I say as I grab Marley’s hand and pull her to the booth, breaking free of the dark cloud threatening us. “You see anything you like?”

We scan the prizes. A bear holding a candy cane. A red-nosed reindeer. Marley grabs my arm and points to a yellow duck wearing a red coat and a Santa hat. I mean, how could we not go for it? I pull a dollar out of my wallet in trade for a football.

I take a deep breath, staring at the hoop. Sam and I ran this booth our freshman year during a total snowstorm. We were so bored and cold during the first hour, we spent most of our shift playing the game ourselves, lobbing the ball through the hoop hundreds of times.

I’ve got this.

I launch the ball at the hoop, the spiral wobbling as the throw swings wide.

I pull out another dollar and try again, this throw worse than the first one, the ball soaring over the hoop and out of sight.

Maybe… I don’t have this.

I shrug and turn to grin sheepishly at Marley. “I’m sorry. Maybe I can buy you one.…”

She’s focused, though. Her eyes are locked on that Santa duck as she digs into the pocket of her jacket and pulls out a dollar. She drops it down on the counter, then grabs the football, and… holy shit.

A perfect spiral sails right through the hoop.

I whoop as the freshman behind the booth hands her the duck. Then I scoop her up and spin her around, her yellow scarf coming undone.

“Marley,” I say when I put her down. I’m more than a little impressed. “That was awesome. Can you do it again?”

I pull another dollar from my pocket, and she grabs the football, the same laser-focused look on her face. Without a second thought, she launches it perfectly through the hoop again, this time with even more zip on it. Who is this girl?

She gives me a mischievous look I haven’t seen before, the green in her eyes bright against the white snow falling all around us.

Five minutes later, a Santa duck and a red-nosed reindeer in hand, we stroll proudly away from the booth, my arm slung over her shoulder. To think, last year I’d sulked over not being able to hit that hoop with my left arm.

Now I’m celebrating my girlfriend absolutely destroying me. Twice.

I kiss Marley quickly on the head, and she nuzzles closer to me, everything feeling absolutely perfect. We just need one thing.

“Hot chocolate?” I ask Marley, redirecting us toward a booth of treats and sweets, filled with enough candy to keep our local dentist in business until next Christmas.

She nods, eager, her teeth chattering in the cold.

“Two hot chocolates, please,” I say to the bundled-up barista behind the counter. “Extra whipped cream. Extra marshmallows.”

Marley watches as the barista makes the hot chocolates, shaking her head in disbelief. “That’s a lot of sugar,” she says.

“Are you talking about the chocolate melted in milk? Or just the whipped cream and marshmallows on top?”

She turns to look at me, the both of us laughing. “When you put it that way…”

“There’s no such thing as too much sugar,” I say, tugging lightly at her scarf as the barista hands us our hot chocolates, a thin trail of steam drifting off the frothy top. “Not at the Winter Festival.”

The hot chocolate is incredible, rich and creamy and sweet, exactly like I remember it.

Marley takes a small sip, a blissful smile appearing on her face. I reach out and grab her free hand, her fingers cold in my palm, as the two of us wind through the crowd to the holiday light show.

It’s awesome, lights of all different colors forming trees and reindeer and snowmen, a blanket of white underneath them. The twinkling colors guide us to the heart of the display, a long, glittering tunnel of blinking lights hanging down around us like falling stars.