Page 26 of Roommates' Alpha
“Yeah.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Take a break. You’ve been here since this morning, at least ten hours now. I’ll expedite for a bit so you can get a breather and a bite to eat.”
“You sure?”
“Everybody’s seated for now.”
“Ok.”
I stepped back and let him take my position at the pass. Then I walked over to where mistakes were placed, saw a pasta that had been made with alfredo instead of pesto, and decided it was good enough. I grabbed it and carried it into the office, where I collapsed onto my chair with a relieved sigh.
It wasn’t going to be quite a double shift, but close enough to leave me exhausted. My team needed me though. I’d help them get through the worst of it, then I’d head home.
∞∞∞
I arrived home shortly before nine, only about an hour before the restaurant would have closed anyway. But I was exhausted and I knew the night crew could handle the remainder of the shift.
I’d intended to go around the side like normal and directly to my basement, but colorful lights in the window caught my attention and I veered to the front door.
The brightly lit Christmas tree in the corner was slender and only about five feet tall, but it was the first time I’d seen a tree in the living room. The students had never bothered, usually disappearing to visit family in December.
“Oh, hey,” Terry said, standing from where he was adding a few ornaments. “Welcome home.”
The greeting was simple but warmed me in unexpected ways. Nobody had ever welcomed me home there before. Maybe it was because my roommates had been students, or maybe it was because I tended to go around the house rather than through it. But it meant that he’d noticed my arrival.
“What’s this?” I asked, motioning toward the tree.
“Oh,” he stood and rubbed the back of his neck. “I hope it’s ok with you. Everybody else was cool. I kinda wanted a tree in here. Since you were at work I went for it.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine—festive. Just unexpected.”
“You don’t decorate for the holidays?”
I laughed. “Not really. My mama goes overboard, and I think it’s one way I rebelled.”
He chuckled. “It can’t be that bad.”
One of my eyebrows rose. “Oh, it is.” I chuckled. “Let’s start with the miniatures. She’s got an entire winter village that she sets up in a couple of old curio cabinets—complete with plenty of cotton ‘snow’ and fairy lights to give it that whimsical feel. Then garland… so much garland. And not that green kind that’s actually made from trees. No, this is that shiny metallic stuff. It gets draped anywhere it can drape: across windows, from the tops of seldom-used cabinets, along the front of shelves… and often entwined with more lights.”
Terry snickered. “You’re joking.”
“I’m just getting started. The tree has to almost touch the ceiling, and if you can see a speck of green… then she’s not done decorating. You’d think she robbed an ornament store there are so many. Wreaths on every door, and then we get to everything else.”
“Everything else?”
“Everything. Else.” I snickered. “Kitchen towels, couch pillows, floor mats, placemats, paper napkins, coffee cups, plates, bowls, photo frames, even down to the refrigerator magnets. Anything not Christmas—or at least winter—themed is hidden away. Santas, snowflakes, candy canes, snowmen, they’re everywhere. From Thanksgiving to New Year’s.”
“Oh, my god…”
I nodded. “I had to put my foot down when I became a teenager. Before then she thought my room—and me—was an extension of her decorating. My sheets had reindeer, and any pajamas that weren’t festive enough were removed from my drawers until after the holidays, no matter how much I didn’t want to wear them.”
He smiled and let out a chuckle. “I think I can see why you rebelled. You sure this is ok?”
I nodded. “It’s fine. As long as I’m not blinded by the reflection of lights off garland, you’ll be good.”
He laughed. “Oh hell no. This and a few stockings from the bookcase are all I was thinking.”
“Sounds good then.”
I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Then I thought about it and took out a second, which I handed to Terry.