My feet crunch as I make my way across the living room floor. The shattered ornaments almost look like confetti that had drifted gracefully to the ground, scattered there peacefully on the floor. Everything here indicates a party, the lights, the gifts, the food. Or at least it did. The string lights now look lie in a tangled mess in the corner, still glowing like fireflies. The gift boxes have caved in, and the paper that wraps them had somehow lost its shine. The food, however remains untouched, and still sits perfectly on the table. One glass of wine knocked over.

I know that I’ll always remember how the air smells. Pine, cinnamon, fireplace, and fresh dinner rolls. What I try to ignore is the taste of salt on my checks and the rawness of my throat. I try to ignore the soreness in my wrists. Christmas was so special when I was younger. Now I look at the ornaments shattered under my feet and my happiness turns to ash in my mouth.

——————

“Do we really need to bring this up today?”

“I just think the holidays would feel more special,” Will muttered to himself as he hung an ornament on the tree.

“Will, I don’t want to have this discussion again. Not today.” Rachel was pulling the small ham out of the oven, feeling the steam make her eyes water.

“Rachel, listen to me,” Will pleaded as he came around the counter and took the dish from her hands and set it on the table. “Can’t you picture it? A little kiddo running around getting excited about Santa coming? The reindeer too, and we can eat the cookies.”

“That was never our plan.”

“You’re so stubborn! Just say you’ll think about it!”

“I have, and we decided that it wasn’t want we wanted. I don’t want to be a mother, Will.”

The decisiveness in her voice made Will start to breathe harder. “That’s selfish.”

Rachel scoffed, “hah, well now I’m selfish for standing by what I’ve always known was right for me! You’re the one changing your mind!”

“I’ve grown up, Rachel.”

“Then stop acting immature.” She watched him walk away. “I won’t give you that, it’s not what I want and you know that.”

Will returned to the tree and picked up the box of ornaments. “Fuck!” He threw the box on the ground, the shatter sounding from inside the box.

“Relax. Can we just eat and finish this conversation another time? It’s Christmas.” She walked to him and picked up the box, setting it on the coffee table. She reached for his arm, but Will pulled his arm up away from her, too fast. His fingers brushed her eye, and it started to water immediately. “Agh!”

“Rach—“ he began as Rachel shoved him, a bit too hard away from her.

“Just leave me—“ he shoved back, and she stepped back into the tree, sending a few ornaments to the floor, fracturing around her feet. Rachel looked up at him, shocked and pushed her arms out to shove him back, but he grabbed her wrists, twisting them until she gave way underneath and sank into the tree with a yelp of pain. More ornaments fell to the floor and crashed around them in pops. Her foot stamped on a gift, and her ankle turned, sending her into the area under the tree. She landed on their pile if gifts, and heard the framed photo she had gotten him shatter beneath her elbow.

Will fell too, and careened down toward Rachel. The tree decided to go as well, and took the string lights fixed to the ceiling down with it. Will rolled over and his back crashed down on the floor of ornaments, turning them to fragments under his weight. Rachel, under the tree, sat gasping, “Will?”

He tuned into his side and watched from a distance as Rachel pulled herself from the bottom of the tree. Then they were sitting face to face on the living room floor, panting and seeing each other for the first time through pained eyes.

“I’m not having a child, Will.”

He nodded. He felt his palm open up to the glass in the floor as he pushed himself up off the floor. He did not look back at Rachel when he grabbed his coat, put on his boots, and walked out the front door on Christmas Eve.