Red and Green

We were always childhood friends, Tom and I. Even when my family moved away, we would come back to see my grandparents at Christmas time, and Tom was always there. We were best friends, communicating through the sparsely sent, childishly written letters, to the advancement of emails through the internet. Then phones and webcams. I saw him everyday, right after I got home. I'd help him with math, he'd help me with science, and all was right in the world, with us talking until it was 10 at night. We did this from when we were eight until we were sixteen. Then, he started realizing I was a girl. Flesh and blood, a girl who he talked to everyday. I never noticed it, but our childish banter grew to the flirting that was commonly shared at our age.

Soon, he wanted me to be his girlfriend. I had my hopes on someone else.

I do admit, I was cruel in the way I told him that he was friend material.

"Tom, you must be joking! I could never be your girlfriend, you're just not my type. It would be like dating my brother. Gross! Plus, there's this guy in my class, and he is just amazing..."

I childishly brushed that conversation aside , only to rehash it in my mind when the next day I went online, and he wasn't there. But then I brushed it aside again.

The next day,

and the next,

to the next week,

to the next month.

I was suffering my own version of withdrawal. My science grade dropped. My confidence fell. I couldn't act the same around anyone, friend or love interest. It showed how dependent I was on my best friend. I needed him.

I sent him a few emails, trying my hardest to not sound desperate but to say sorry. When that didn't work, I resorted to sending him a letter, hoping for a response from my childhood remnant.

I only got an unopened envelope, written in red on top "Return to sender". I felt so bad, and I had no clue why. I started thinking that maybe I was to stupid to realize that I should have said yes. Maybe I had so much guilt because I liked him.

And December came right around and slapped me in the face.

Here I was, going back to my home. To Tom. I couldn't take it if I were to be rejected in person. But I had to hope. So I packed and pushed clothing, presents, and my pride into my duffel bag, and went home alongside my parents.

He was there. Like always. I saw him, ran to him, said sorry. I could tell he was trying hard to keep a straight face. He wouldn't respond to me. My conversational, meaningful, ridiculous advances were all left unanswered, for days on end. When it was finally Christmas Eve, I broke down in the hall next to the dining room; that despicably happy hall, filled with hollies, poinsettias, and those hated mistletoes. I dragged him to the back of the hall, and just cried.

He finally broke. His face softened, a smile broke out on his lips, and all he said was, "You want to reconsider?"

My best Christmas was the year we kissed amidst red and green.