Post by Aquisha on Nov 26, 2009 13:21:55 GMT -5
...Aquatic Harpoon's Christmas Vaction
It's Thanksgiving so I feel like it's not too terribly early for a Christmas story. It's not the story of Ariel and Eric's first Christmas (which I've been threatening for a while) but it's a holiday story nonetheless. It's a little bit "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation"-I wish I could have fit in that squirrel int he tree!- and it's just short and sweet (please excuse the sappiness). That's really it. I hope you enjoy it and happy holidays!
It was the sharp sound of old wood splitting that jerked Eric out of his sleep. He bolted up, startled, and listened to the lamentations coming from downstairs. He worried for a moment that someone was hurt, but, there were no cries of pain, just “Oh well”, “I can’t believe that”, and “Someone go get a broom; let’s clean this up”. Eric rolled his eyes and fell back into his pillow, exasperated that something else had gone wrong and on Christmas Eve, no less! It was then that he realized that neither his pounding headache nor his fever had ebbed, he was still lying on a chaise outside of his bedroom suite, and, he hadn’t even seen the Christmas tree all decorated (Actually, given the circumstances, that tree was the last thing he wanted to see, so…forget the tree). In an attempt to forget the general wretchedness of the situation, he tried to do what most people do when they hit rock bottom: He tried to look back at all of it and laugh…
Spending Christmas in the royal lodge had seemed like a perfect idea. Nestled in the picturesque woods at the base of the kingdom’s mountain range and miles away from the nearest village, it provided an ideal locale for Eric and Ariel’s first holiday as husband and wife. Eric was nearly beside himself with the idea of spending Christmas in the roomy yet cozy little lodge with Ariel, and his heart was set on making everything flawless for her.
But, of course, this oh-so-perfect winter getaway had quickly turned into an enormous fiasco. It had started off with Grimsby laying down the law of protocol that stated that they simply could not go unaccompanied to the lodge. Thus, Grimsby, Carlotta, Louis, ten other members of the castle staff, and, of course, Max made what was supposed to be a comfortable two day journey to the lodge into a cramped and privacy-deprived three day trek. (The extra day came from the fact that recent rains around the mountains had muddied up the road and the front wheel of Eric’s carriage proceeded to get mired in it.)
Once they reached the lodge, Eric was mortified when the quaint memories he had of the spacious log cabin were supplanted by the realities of a long forgotten, dust-ridden, overly glorified shack. But all was not lost; bringing Carlotta along quickly turned into one of the best things Grimsby had ever made Eric do. In mere moments, she had designated everyone a mop, broom, or rag with which to tidy up the abandoned retreat. Spending all day cleaning on their hands and knees was not the way that Eric had envisioned his and Ariel’s first day, but they still managed to have a good time. After hours of airing out mattresses, wiping away years of dust, and cleaning out fireplaces, they were finished. Even though it had been long and hard, the day ended with a comfortably informal dinner that Louis had whipped up for everyone from nearly nothing, served at the large (and now beautifully polished) oak table in the dining room. They all laughed and shared stories about the cabin in its heyday, including a particularly embarrassing one about a two-year old Eric’s bath time and an admiral’s hat that his father had gotten him for Christmas. Apparently he’d been so excited about the bath with his toy ships and his new hat that the next thing anyone knew, Eric was running around the cabin in nothing but said hat and an insufficient amount bubbles.
That first night, all anyone wanted was some well-deserved rest. Ariel had crawled into the downy blankets on the wooden bed in their small suite with Max curled up in a ball of grey and white at her feet. Eric had gone to put his boots in the closet. He was turned to Ariel, answering her question about what was on the next day’s agenda, as he opened the door. The next few seconds were a blur. The thing that Eric knew for certain was that Ariel shrieked. He soon found that the reason was the cloud of black wings that had flown out of the closet towards him. Max jumped off the bed and barked furiously as chaos descended upon the tiny suite. Eric was in a panic and in what seemed to be no time he and Ariel were out in the hallway breathing heavily, nearly in a state of shock. They were met almost immediately by Grimsby and Carlotta and a few of the maids in their sleeping caps, wrapped in blankets. It took a moment before they were calm enough to explain what happened. The history of the last few moments came out in a nearly incoherent jumble of broken phrases, nods, and “uh huh”s, but everyone pretty much got the gist.
Grimsby peered at Ariel and Eric blankly from under a furrowed brow and simply asked: “Bats?” Ariel and Eric wordlessly nodded in the affirmative. After refusing to displace the staff or to go back in the bat infested room, the prince and princess (and their dog) decided to sleep on a makeshift cot in the sitting room of their bedroom suite. Once Ariel and Eric were situated and everyone had left them to their sleep, they took a deep breath, looked at one another and began to laugh hysterically.
The next day had brought its own troubles. A brave group of maids had been designated to herding the bats out of the master suite while the rest helped Ariel and Carlotta with decorations around the lodge. The men went off with Eric, Grimsby, and Max to look for the perfect Christmas tree.
Unfortunately, the lodge seemed to have a vendetta against any kind of ornamentation. Ariel would tack something up and in fifteen minutes, she’d hear it crash to the ground from the next room. That alone was really upsetting but what was worse was seeing Carlotta buckle under the cabin’s yuletide resistance. Ariel had never seen any craft project defeat Carlotta, but this house seemed to break her. Her naturally cheery disposition was thwarted and replaced by unintelligible muttering every time the sound of a falling wreath echoed through the cabin. By the early afternoon, countless ornaments had shattered into tiny pieces after their violent introduction to the wood floor. The only decorations that survived after a full day of work were one lop-sided wreath that hung on the front door of the lodge and one terribly unhealthy sprig of mistletoe and holly hung from the support beam in the main sitting room.
Utterly depressed by her attempts at decorating the lodge, Ariel checked on the bat wranglers. When she got up the stairs, she found the band in the hall tired and out of breath. Apparently the bats had proven a little much for the technological prowess of a few scared house maids with brooms and sheets. Feeling terribly sorry for them and appreciating everything they’d tried to do, she took them downstairs and had Louis make them a hearty early dinner served with chilled eggnog. The maids gratefully accepted their meal and thanked Ariel profusely.
It was about five o’clock when all the women realized that Eric, Grimsby, and the rest of the men had been gone since the morning. Carlotta reassured everyone that they were fine and that they were probably trying to find a truly “perfect” tree if she knew Grimsby’s scrutiny. They decided to eat dinner and relax around the fire and wait for the arrival of the men and the tree.
It wasn’t until seven o’clock that the men returned. They were all exhausted beyond words, freezing cold, and were covered in mud from the thigh down. It had taken two hours to find the “perfect tree” (which had taken forty-five minutes in the dirt to cut down). Then Max, overtaken by the new surroundings, had run off into the woods. That meant another hour searching for and recovering the bounding sheepdog. After chasing Max into some unknown territory, they realized that they were hopelessly lost. They had spent the rest of the time trying to get back.
Ariel had listened to Eric recount their exploit with her hands on either side of her very concerned face. But, when he was done she had to cover the smile that was creeping across her lips with one hand. She tried to be discreet but it hadn’t worked. “You’re not laughing at this,” Eric said, half serious and half teasing in his exhaustion. Ariel, who had turned away, looked back at the sight of her pathetic yet adorable husband, fighting against a giggle. “You cannot be laughing at this!” With that, Eric proceeded to chase Ariel around the cabin, much to everyone’s entertainment (except for Grimsby, of course). In spite of his fatigue, he mustered up enough energy to pursue, capture, and tickle Ariel on the couch of the sitting room. It was only when Ariel didn’t have enough breath to laugh anymore that Eric stopped his assault. Ariel was left gasping for air and trying to regain feeling in her abdomen as Eric nonchalantly turned to Carlotta and asked, “What’s for dinner?”
The rest of the evening had been fairly uneventful, filling everyone with the timid hope that their attempt at a nice quiet holiday was finally coming to fruition. The evening ended with a few carols by the old piano-forte which could have lasted far into the night had Eric, exhausted from the quest for the Christmas tree, not decided to turn in early. Against his protestations, Ariel and everyone else agreed the evening wouldn’t be the same without him and decided to retire as well.
As everyone slept, snow crept silently into the forest. Stealthily covering the lodge with drifts of glistening white, by the morning, it looked like the image of a perfect holiday. The simple gift of this idyllic Christmas Eve Day would have been more than enough to make up for the chaos of the rest of the trip…had Eric not woken up feeling awful with a terrible fever. Apparently spending hours in the bitter cold wearing wet clothes and proceeding to sleep on the floor isn’t best for one’s health. Carlotta administered the usual soup and extra blankets, swept Ariel out of the room (though she really didn’t want to leave) lest she get sick herself, and told Eric to stay in bed (or at least on the chaise of the sitting room) with a look that was beyond protestation. And that was that. As Eric laid in bed, the rest of the day passed without incident; Louis showed Ariel how to make the ultimate Yule log cake, Carlotta had happily found that since the tree was not technically part of the lodge, it did not put up a fight against being dressed for the holiday, and Grimsby took it upon himself to go through the attic to find the sled that Eric had insisted was still there from his childhood. When the sled was found in perfect working condition, Ariel and the maids confiscated it immediately, and with Max, they bounded outside to play in the snow. And it was the sound of everyone playing in the snow banks outside that had lulled Eric into a disappointment and bitterness induced sleep.
No, in spite of his best efforts, there was nothing Eric could find laughable about the last few days (raging fevers do have a tendency to stifle the sense of humor). He laid awake, thinking about the failure that was this trip, in awe of how quickly and completely all of his plans had gone wrong. All he’d wanted was a quiet holiday to enjoy with the person he loved (in a scenic lodge bedecked with decorations and covered in beautiful yet unobtrusive snow) but apparently, that was too much to ask. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes; hoping sleep would come back to him so he wouldn’t have to think about this debacle of a holiday.
In a few moments, Eric heard the creaking of the wood floor. He looked up just in time to see Ariel trying to close the bedroom door as noiselessly as possible with her back to him. When she was finished, she turned to him with a sympathetic smile.
“Ariel,” Eric croaked weakly. “What are you doing? Save yourself.”
Ariel gave a small laugh as she pulled up and sat on the ottoman next to his chaise. “How are you feeling? Any better?”
“Not really…but I’ve been asleep most of the day. It’s not so bad when I’m unconscious. What happened downstairs?”
“Apparently the mistletoe was too much for the support beam,” she answered holding up the offending pinch of flora.
“Of course it was,” he said with a sigh, rolling his eyes.
“With everyone busy trying to clean it up, I thought I’d try to sneak up here and check on you.”
“Thanks.”
Ariel put her hand to his forehead and then brushed back his hair. “It doesn’t feel like your fever’s gone down at all. Do you want anything? Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m fine,” he answered unconvincingly. “If I did try to eat anything, it would probably be poisoned.”
Ariel winced into a smile as she looked at her thoroughly beaten husband. “You know, it’s really not that bad.”
Eric shot Ariel a look of disbelief so fast it nearly made her jump. “Not that bad? Not that bad! Ariel, have you been here for the last two days? What part of this attempt at a peaceful vacation wasn’t bad? The hike up a mountain of mud with half the castle staff or the all out restoration we had to pull on this shack just to make it inhabitable. The bats, Ariel! Bats! Chasing after a dog in the freezing cold and getting lost for hours, and, if all that wasn’t enough, now I’ve been struck down with plague! This has been a descent into holiday hell, and you’re telling me it’s ‘not that bad’?”
Ariel closed her eyes for a moment as she stifled her impulse to laugh, looked at Eric and smiled. “No,” she answered calmly, “it’s not that bad.”
Eric sank back into his pillows, brooding.
“Eric, do you remember why you decided to take us up here?”
“Because I wanted you to have a perfect Christmas.”
“No, that wasn’t the reason. It was because you’d been away on ship for three weeks and all you wanted to do was spend time with me for Christmas. That was it. I don’t know how everything else made it into your plan,” she said looking around. “I mean it’s nice, I love it, but I love you more and, well, really I could be anywhere, anytime, and it’d be fine as long as you’re with me….even if there are bats.”
There was silence as Eric looked from Ariel to the ceiling. “What?” she asked concerned.
“I didn’t think it was possible,” he started, still looking upwards, “but I actually feel worse.”
“Eric...”
“No, you’re right. That’s why everything’s been a complete disaster; where we have Christmas doesn’t matter as long as you and I have it together. But of course, I had to go and choose this God-forsaken place,” he added bitterly.
She smiled knowingly as she fussed with his blankets. “It hasn’t been a complete disaster," she said in an attempt to reassure him, but she could tell it hadn’t worked. “Eric, really it’s fine. Look, I’m still getting what I wanted: I've got you. I mean,” she said looking him over, “you do have plague, but it’s still you.”
Eric started to laugh but it quickly gave way to a cough. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m paying for it; I feel awful.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” she protested. “But, maybe if I stay here for a bit, we’ll both feel a little better, huh?”
“Thanks.”
“Always.”
And with the little sprig of mistletoe keeping watch, a small cleaning crew downstairs, and the snow falling outside, both Eric and Ariel got the holiday they’d wanted.
It's Thanksgiving so I feel like it's not too terribly early for a Christmas story. It's not the story of Ariel and Eric's first Christmas (which I've been threatening for a while) but it's a holiday story nonetheless. It's a little bit "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation"-I wish I could have fit in that squirrel int he tree!- and it's just short and sweet (please excuse the sappiness). That's really it. I hope you enjoy it and happy holidays!
*********************************************************************************
It was the sharp sound of old wood splitting that jerked Eric out of his sleep. He bolted up, startled, and listened to the lamentations coming from downstairs. He worried for a moment that someone was hurt, but, there were no cries of pain, just “Oh well”, “I can’t believe that”, and “Someone go get a broom; let’s clean this up”. Eric rolled his eyes and fell back into his pillow, exasperated that something else had gone wrong and on Christmas Eve, no less! It was then that he realized that neither his pounding headache nor his fever had ebbed, he was still lying on a chaise outside of his bedroom suite, and, he hadn’t even seen the Christmas tree all decorated (Actually, given the circumstances, that tree was the last thing he wanted to see, so…forget the tree). In an attempt to forget the general wretchedness of the situation, he tried to do what most people do when they hit rock bottom: He tried to look back at all of it and laugh…
************
Spending Christmas in the royal lodge had seemed like a perfect idea. Nestled in the picturesque woods at the base of the kingdom’s mountain range and miles away from the nearest village, it provided an ideal locale for Eric and Ariel’s first holiday as husband and wife. Eric was nearly beside himself with the idea of spending Christmas in the roomy yet cozy little lodge with Ariel, and his heart was set on making everything flawless for her.
But, of course, this oh-so-perfect winter getaway had quickly turned into an enormous fiasco. It had started off with Grimsby laying down the law of protocol that stated that they simply could not go unaccompanied to the lodge. Thus, Grimsby, Carlotta, Louis, ten other members of the castle staff, and, of course, Max made what was supposed to be a comfortable two day journey to the lodge into a cramped and privacy-deprived three day trek. (The extra day came from the fact that recent rains around the mountains had muddied up the road and the front wheel of Eric’s carriage proceeded to get mired in it.)
Once they reached the lodge, Eric was mortified when the quaint memories he had of the spacious log cabin were supplanted by the realities of a long forgotten, dust-ridden, overly glorified shack. But all was not lost; bringing Carlotta along quickly turned into one of the best things Grimsby had ever made Eric do. In mere moments, she had designated everyone a mop, broom, or rag with which to tidy up the abandoned retreat. Spending all day cleaning on their hands and knees was not the way that Eric had envisioned his and Ariel’s first day, but they still managed to have a good time. After hours of airing out mattresses, wiping away years of dust, and cleaning out fireplaces, they were finished. Even though it had been long and hard, the day ended with a comfortably informal dinner that Louis had whipped up for everyone from nearly nothing, served at the large (and now beautifully polished) oak table in the dining room. They all laughed and shared stories about the cabin in its heyday, including a particularly embarrassing one about a two-year old Eric’s bath time and an admiral’s hat that his father had gotten him for Christmas. Apparently he’d been so excited about the bath with his toy ships and his new hat that the next thing anyone knew, Eric was running around the cabin in nothing but said hat and an insufficient amount bubbles.
That first night, all anyone wanted was some well-deserved rest. Ariel had crawled into the downy blankets on the wooden bed in their small suite with Max curled up in a ball of grey and white at her feet. Eric had gone to put his boots in the closet. He was turned to Ariel, answering her question about what was on the next day’s agenda, as he opened the door. The next few seconds were a blur. The thing that Eric knew for certain was that Ariel shrieked. He soon found that the reason was the cloud of black wings that had flown out of the closet towards him. Max jumped off the bed and barked furiously as chaos descended upon the tiny suite. Eric was in a panic and in what seemed to be no time he and Ariel were out in the hallway breathing heavily, nearly in a state of shock. They were met almost immediately by Grimsby and Carlotta and a few of the maids in their sleeping caps, wrapped in blankets. It took a moment before they were calm enough to explain what happened. The history of the last few moments came out in a nearly incoherent jumble of broken phrases, nods, and “uh huh”s, but everyone pretty much got the gist.
Grimsby peered at Ariel and Eric blankly from under a furrowed brow and simply asked: “Bats?” Ariel and Eric wordlessly nodded in the affirmative. After refusing to displace the staff or to go back in the bat infested room, the prince and princess (and their dog) decided to sleep on a makeshift cot in the sitting room of their bedroom suite. Once Ariel and Eric were situated and everyone had left them to their sleep, they took a deep breath, looked at one another and began to laugh hysterically.
The next day had brought its own troubles. A brave group of maids had been designated to herding the bats out of the master suite while the rest helped Ariel and Carlotta with decorations around the lodge. The men went off with Eric, Grimsby, and Max to look for the perfect Christmas tree.
Unfortunately, the lodge seemed to have a vendetta against any kind of ornamentation. Ariel would tack something up and in fifteen minutes, she’d hear it crash to the ground from the next room. That alone was really upsetting but what was worse was seeing Carlotta buckle under the cabin’s yuletide resistance. Ariel had never seen any craft project defeat Carlotta, but this house seemed to break her. Her naturally cheery disposition was thwarted and replaced by unintelligible muttering every time the sound of a falling wreath echoed through the cabin. By the early afternoon, countless ornaments had shattered into tiny pieces after their violent introduction to the wood floor. The only decorations that survived after a full day of work were one lop-sided wreath that hung on the front door of the lodge and one terribly unhealthy sprig of mistletoe and holly hung from the support beam in the main sitting room.
Utterly depressed by her attempts at decorating the lodge, Ariel checked on the bat wranglers. When she got up the stairs, she found the band in the hall tired and out of breath. Apparently the bats had proven a little much for the technological prowess of a few scared house maids with brooms and sheets. Feeling terribly sorry for them and appreciating everything they’d tried to do, she took them downstairs and had Louis make them a hearty early dinner served with chilled eggnog. The maids gratefully accepted their meal and thanked Ariel profusely.
It was about five o’clock when all the women realized that Eric, Grimsby, and the rest of the men had been gone since the morning. Carlotta reassured everyone that they were fine and that they were probably trying to find a truly “perfect” tree if she knew Grimsby’s scrutiny. They decided to eat dinner and relax around the fire and wait for the arrival of the men and the tree.
It wasn’t until seven o’clock that the men returned. They were all exhausted beyond words, freezing cold, and were covered in mud from the thigh down. It had taken two hours to find the “perfect tree” (which had taken forty-five minutes in the dirt to cut down). Then Max, overtaken by the new surroundings, had run off into the woods. That meant another hour searching for and recovering the bounding sheepdog. After chasing Max into some unknown territory, they realized that they were hopelessly lost. They had spent the rest of the time trying to get back.
Ariel had listened to Eric recount their exploit with her hands on either side of her very concerned face. But, when he was done she had to cover the smile that was creeping across her lips with one hand. She tried to be discreet but it hadn’t worked. “You’re not laughing at this,” Eric said, half serious and half teasing in his exhaustion. Ariel, who had turned away, looked back at the sight of her pathetic yet adorable husband, fighting against a giggle. “You cannot be laughing at this!” With that, Eric proceeded to chase Ariel around the cabin, much to everyone’s entertainment (except for Grimsby, of course). In spite of his fatigue, he mustered up enough energy to pursue, capture, and tickle Ariel on the couch of the sitting room. It was only when Ariel didn’t have enough breath to laugh anymore that Eric stopped his assault. Ariel was left gasping for air and trying to regain feeling in her abdomen as Eric nonchalantly turned to Carlotta and asked, “What’s for dinner?”
The rest of the evening had been fairly uneventful, filling everyone with the timid hope that their attempt at a nice quiet holiday was finally coming to fruition. The evening ended with a few carols by the old piano-forte which could have lasted far into the night had Eric, exhausted from the quest for the Christmas tree, not decided to turn in early. Against his protestations, Ariel and everyone else agreed the evening wouldn’t be the same without him and decided to retire as well.
As everyone slept, snow crept silently into the forest. Stealthily covering the lodge with drifts of glistening white, by the morning, it looked like the image of a perfect holiday. The simple gift of this idyllic Christmas Eve Day would have been more than enough to make up for the chaos of the rest of the trip…had Eric not woken up feeling awful with a terrible fever. Apparently spending hours in the bitter cold wearing wet clothes and proceeding to sleep on the floor isn’t best for one’s health. Carlotta administered the usual soup and extra blankets, swept Ariel out of the room (though she really didn’t want to leave) lest she get sick herself, and told Eric to stay in bed (or at least on the chaise of the sitting room) with a look that was beyond protestation. And that was that. As Eric laid in bed, the rest of the day passed without incident; Louis showed Ariel how to make the ultimate Yule log cake, Carlotta had happily found that since the tree was not technically part of the lodge, it did not put up a fight against being dressed for the holiday, and Grimsby took it upon himself to go through the attic to find the sled that Eric had insisted was still there from his childhood. When the sled was found in perfect working condition, Ariel and the maids confiscated it immediately, and with Max, they bounded outside to play in the snow. And it was the sound of everyone playing in the snow banks outside that had lulled Eric into a disappointment and bitterness induced sleep.
************
No, in spite of his best efforts, there was nothing Eric could find laughable about the last few days (raging fevers do have a tendency to stifle the sense of humor). He laid awake, thinking about the failure that was this trip, in awe of how quickly and completely all of his plans had gone wrong. All he’d wanted was a quiet holiday to enjoy with the person he loved (in a scenic lodge bedecked with decorations and covered in beautiful yet unobtrusive snow) but apparently, that was too much to ask. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes; hoping sleep would come back to him so he wouldn’t have to think about this debacle of a holiday.
In a few moments, Eric heard the creaking of the wood floor. He looked up just in time to see Ariel trying to close the bedroom door as noiselessly as possible with her back to him. When she was finished, she turned to him with a sympathetic smile.
“Ariel,” Eric croaked weakly. “What are you doing? Save yourself.”
Ariel gave a small laugh as she pulled up and sat on the ottoman next to his chaise. “How are you feeling? Any better?”
“Not really…but I’ve been asleep most of the day. It’s not so bad when I’m unconscious. What happened downstairs?”
“Apparently the mistletoe was too much for the support beam,” she answered holding up the offending pinch of flora.
“Of course it was,” he said with a sigh, rolling his eyes.
“With everyone busy trying to clean it up, I thought I’d try to sneak up here and check on you.”
“Thanks.”
Ariel put her hand to his forehead and then brushed back his hair. “It doesn’t feel like your fever’s gone down at all. Do you want anything? Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m fine,” he answered unconvincingly. “If I did try to eat anything, it would probably be poisoned.”
Ariel winced into a smile as she looked at her thoroughly beaten husband. “You know, it’s really not that bad.”
Eric shot Ariel a look of disbelief so fast it nearly made her jump. “Not that bad? Not that bad! Ariel, have you been here for the last two days? What part of this attempt at a peaceful vacation wasn’t bad? The hike up a mountain of mud with half the castle staff or the all out restoration we had to pull on this shack just to make it inhabitable. The bats, Ariel! Bats! Chasing after a dog in the freezing cold and getting lost for hours, and, if all that wasn’t enough, now I’ve been struck down with plague! This has been a descent into holiday hell, and you’re telling me it’s ‘not that bad’?”
Ariel closed her eyes for a moment as she stifled her impulse to laugh, looked at Eric and smiled. “No,” she answered calmly, “it’s not that bad.”
Eric sank back into his pillows, brooding.
“Eric, do you remember why you decided to take us up here?”
“Because I wanted you to have a perfect Christmas.”
“No, that wasn’t the reason. It was because you’d been away on ship for three weeks and all you wanted to do was spend time with me for Christmas. That was it. I don’t know how everything else made it into your plan,” she said looking around. “I mean it’s nice, I love it, but I love you more and, well, really I could be anywhere, anytime, and it’d be fine as long as you’re with me….even if there are bats.”
There was silence as Eric looked from Ariel to the ceiling. “What?” she asked concerned.
“I didn’t think it was possible,” he started, still looking upwards, “but I actually feel worse.”
“Eric...”
“No, you’re right. That’s why everything’s been a complete disaster; where we have Christmas doesn’t matter as long as you and I have it together. But of course, I had to go and choose this God-forsaken place,” he added bitterly.
She smiled knowingly as she fussed with his blankets. “It hasn’t been a complete disaster," she said in an attempt to reassure him, but she could tell it hadn’t worked. “Eric, really it’s fine. Look, I’m still getting what I wanted: I've got you. I mean,” she said looking him over, “you do have plague, but it’s still you.”
Eric started to laugh but it quickly gave way to a cough. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m paying for it; I feel awful.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” she protested. “But, maybe if I stay here for a bit, we’ll both feel a little better, huh?”
“Thanks.”
“Always.”
And with the little sprig of mistletoe keeping watch, a small cleaning crew downstairs, and the snow falling outside, both Eric and Ariel got the holiday they’d wanted.
