#gonna take a fat nap once the bus reaches my house

[miss-rum-hee]

[silaskaine-blog]

two that happened, two that didn’t, and one that will ;

I.

TREES AND LIGHTS LIT UP every store front in Brooklyn, garland wrapped around the posts, New York City was dripping in Christmas cheer. At least, it looked that way. The cheer failed to reach Silas. Eleven years old, he was walking to a deli, wondering if he could manage to sneak onto a bus. It was cold outside, and Silas jerked the black fleece a little higher, an attempt to cover his ears. The wind cut through the too few layers, a testament to the scarce nature of money for things that people needed to live. He looked homeless, except he was clean, and in a lot of ways he really was homeless.

He paused outside a store before going in. Nimble fingers moved to shelves, tucking away food into his pockets, wishing it was something warm. He was contemplating on attempting to take something from the deli counter when he was grabbed by the back of his jacket. "Shit." Hauled into the manager's office he unloaded his pockets, watching as the food was taken away. The police were called. The officer showed up and glanced at him. It's Christmas, son. Shouldn't you be home, opening presents? Silas snorted, sticking out his hands to be cuffed.

At the station, he sat. He waited. The cop who took him was working the phones to get him picked up. Silas watched the cop's face, his eyes, pinpointing the exact moment he started to pity him. The rumble in his stomach was loud, but he'd be back on the streets before long, and he'd fix that. He hated that cramped house, the lumpy, too small bed, the smell of alcohol that seemed to drip off the walls, alcohol and cockroach pesticide that never really seemed to work. Suddenly, the cop shifted. He hung up the phone, glancing as another cop gave him a sandwich. You like onions? "I don't care." And he didn't. Without a second thought, the cop opened the sandwich and gave him half. You foster parents will be here soon. Eat. And he did.

II.

SILAS WAS GLANCING OVER THE MANUAL, and he held up a finger. "Stop badgering me, I can install this just fine." He flipped a page and nodded, before ducking into the water closet, a wrench in hand. Wires were the problem for the electric water heater. He heard Rose snort from the kitchen, Whatever you say. She was a sassy old lady, and he narrowed his eyes at her, before setting back to his job. Glancing to the wires and inputs he shrugged. It wasn't that complex. Barely needed to read the manual, he scoffed and set to installing it.

Roughly two seconds into rewiring the input, he yelped a sound that could have only been equated to a kicked dog. "Turns out you have to turn off the electricity!" He yelled to Rose, a small on his face despite nearly electrocuting himself. Oh, really, who would have thought that to install an electric water heater, you'd need electricity. "Right?!" Silas yelled back before moving to the breaker. He flicked it off. "Won't be long now." Did you burn your hand? "Just a little singed, just fine. Nothing like the time I nearly caught myself on fire with the stove." Rose swatted at him with a spoon and Silas laughed and scampered away to finish the task.

"By the way, Merry Christmas. Your son was nearly barbecued." I have no pity when he nearly dies from stupidity. Silas bellowed a laugh, shaking his head. "You'd miss me." He said, but just under the realm that was her hearing. When she popped up a few minutes later, he slammed his head on the door and hissed. "You gotta stop doing that." Also, I left you something on your bed. I know you're not fond of Christmas, but still. Just a little something. Her fingers latched around his neck and she pulled him in to kiss his cheek. "Ay, ay. We're Kaine's. No mushy shit." Every once and while, Silas.

III.

VANESSA'S BODY HIT HIS HARD, an attempt to knock the breath from him. Immediately, she started to nip at him, pressing her cold nose into his warm neck. Silas groaned. It was Christmas, he knew. He knew this because she was up at some God awful hour, despite the fact that they were at a party last night and only got home three hours ago. Their apartment was small, they could barely afford it. Silas was working two jobs and going to college full time, chasing that engineering degree, and trying to put food on the table. Vanessa was consumed with dancing. They had a couch, a bed, a television, but otherwise they were the picture of a struggling urban couple.

He chuckled as she rolled him over, kissing him awake. Get up, I have something for you. He groaned again, "I'm up, I'm up." You're not, your eyes are still closed. "Why do you always terrorize people on Christmas? We just want to sleep." Silas rubbed his face, scratching at his beard. He needed to shave before his shift tonight. Opening his eyes, he looked at her in the half light, and she scooted further down his lap so that he could lean against the headboard. Their apartment was too small to fit a tree, but she had a box beside her.

She was about to press the gift into his hands when he shook his head. "Me first." You got something? We agreed on no gifts. "And look how well that worked out." She snorted. "I got you two actually." Vanessa's eyebrows shot up. Silas hated Christmas, she knew that, everyone knew that. From between the headboard and the mattress he pulled out a small box. "I know we have a lot plans, and right now, they're not really coming to fruition--" Nice word. "I'm a relatively smart guy, baby, I know a few words." He shook his head, getting off track. "Anyway, there's no one else I'd rather struggle with, no one else I'd rather have holidays with, no one else I'd rather build my life with. So, will you marry me?"

IV.

THE SCENT OF PRIME RIB WAFTED THROUGH THE HOUSE, an impressive feat considering the size of home. His mother loved Christmas, and gifts had already been done, the morning giving away to a leisurely afternoon. Silas sat at the bar, watching his mother and father. His father laughed and scrunched his nose at the bitter taste of the cranberry sauce dressing she was using. His mother smeared a streak of the sauce on his nose in protest. And Silas just shook his head, and watched the snow fall a little harder.

His mother was the best at cooking prime rib. Hers was second to none, just as her fudge was the same way. He always ate too much food on Christmas, and then fell asleep on the couch watching reruns of old Christmas movies, his head in her lap. Her fingers would brush through his hair while his father read a book, the fireplace roaring and making the living room smell like nutmeg and warm cedar. From his half sleep, he could hear his father's voice, telling his mother about something interesting that he read. His father loved history, and usually prattled on about some factoid he had found interesting.

The midday nap would end, and then, as was every Christmas tradition, they would get dressed up and head to the alpha's home for a small dinner party. It was filled with laughter, too much eggnogg, his mother rolling her eyes at her two boys, given that Silas and his father usually teamed up to start a football game in the backyard. Or capture the flag. Silas was hoping for Capture the Flag this year.

V.

STANDING IN THE DRIVEWAY WITH HIS ARMS CROSSED, Silas immediately regretted the decision he had made. The way Catriona was looking at him was a pretty good indicator she was not pleased either. Worry etched over his face, as he watched Saoirse back the car out of the driveway for the first time. I can't believe you got them a car. "A car, singular, I'd like to point out. It's safe." It was not a luxury model, but for two teenagers who had just gotten their licenses days prior, it could have been a Ferrari. They'd have to share, mostly because he didn't want the driveway to look any more like a car park than it already did. You know they were hoping for the Camaro. They both looked at each other at the same time and said, "Over my dead body."

Glancing down the street again, Silas nudged Cat. "C'mon, it's fucking cold out here." You're only wearing your thermal. "Wolf blooded, babe." He could feel her eyes rolling. You feed the deer? "Yeah, at like six. They're getting fat, gonna need to lay off the corn a bit." Another eye roll and he laughed. He paused, tapping his knuckles on the counter. "They'll be fine, right?" Trust me, they need to get out of this damn house. Silas nodded, agreeing. He loved them, but every once and a while he wanted time without them. They'd be getting that, it seemed. He exhaled.

"Another successful Christmas," he said and leaned over to kiss Cat. "They're probably going to be gone for a while so..." You're saying Santa came and that-- "The most logical thing to come next is you, exactly what I'm saying. Read me like a book." She swatted at him before dragging him to the bedroom.