I look up from my comforting mug of liquid gold in time to see Madi curiously give me a once-over, and then she smiles. I smile back, an idea coming to my mind.
‘Mads, will you do my make-up today?’ I ask, feeling a spark of happiness ignite in my stomach. I love it when Madi does my make-up. If she wasn’t so brilliant at writing screenplays and if I didn’t love working with her so much, I’d suggest she become a make-up artist. Madi responds by shooting up off her chair, grabbing her mug of coffee and hooking my elbow.
‘Absolutely, Harp. It would be my pleasure. Then I thought we could go to the Handmade Holiday Market. Everywhere is within walking distance around here and Jerry was telling me whichever way we walk we will find something to do or see,’ she says, marching in the direction of my room, taking me with her.
The spark in my belly is now a full-on flame; warmth takes over my body. The Handmade Holiday Market sounds perfectly idyllic and wonderful. Madi knows me so well. Plus, looking through the glass double doors and the large windows that surround my parents’ house, I can’t hide the patter of excitement that awakens in my stomach when I see the high mounds of snow and forest that they look out on to. I can see why my parents love it here. The trees are magnificent, towering over the house with their thick trunks and spindly branches with deep green thistles and a coating of icing-sugar snow. You could get lost pointing out every intricate detail that made each one so unique despite their shared name. In fact, I am getting lost in them and momentarily forget that Madi is waiting for my response.
‘That sounds lovely, Mads; maybe I can pick up something for Mum and Dad,’ I say. It’s been ages since I got my parents anything truly thoughtful and the guilt hits my gut as I remember yet another gift card that I sent them in the post last year. Living so far away, it became the most practical option. It wasn’t like it was entirely thoughtless. I love gift cards and think they’re the perfect gift for people to treat themselves to something they ordinarily might not allow themselves to. I often used to get so busy at this time of year, what with Scott’s family living long-distance too and him having a brother and sister and nieces and nephews to accommodate, gift cards were the easiest options all round, even though I hate to admit it.
‘Ooh and we can find a cute brunch spot while we’re out too. I wonder if the markets are like back home.’ Madi cocks an eyebrow at me. We love finding local family-run cafés whenever we visit a new place. Even back in London we like to make it a fortnightly affair to visit a place we haven’t eaten at before and go for a coffee or have a change of scenery while we’re writing. And at Christmas, Nutella crepes from London’s Winter Wonderland are a must. The guilt is stacking up this morning as I think of all the things I have neglected and brushed to the wayside over the past year.
‘Brunch out sounds perfect,’ I say as we enter my room. I rummage through my suitcase and pull out knits, leggings and floaty dresses while Madi sees to collecting my make-up. In the bathroom I throw some water on my face and with one look at my hair, decide that I’ll let Madi see to it; she’s been brushing my hair since we were three and always manages to detangle it without causing me too much pain. I go to hang up my dressing gown on the back of the bathroom door when I hear the sound of Elton John’s ‘I’m Still Standing’.
For a moment I don’t know what to do. I haven’t listened to break-up songs, because it feels like I don’t deserve them. My fear over not being stronger since Scott left and the fact that I’ve allowed my situation to get me down, made me feel like a fraud. And forget about the sad ones – knowing I wasn’t the only one in Scott’s life, that I wasn’t enough? Well, those sad songs rendered me crushed and humiliated.
I pause at the bathroom door at the sound of Elton’s voice, mixed with the softer melodies of Madi’s voice, and catch her wielding a hairbrush, twirling around the room singing along. Without warning, laughter bursts out of me as I watch her swinging hips. The beat of the song reverberates off the walls. She spots me and throws me the can of hairspray. The chorus kicks in at the same time as my adrenaline takes over. Memories of dancing with my parents when I was a kid at all the festivals come flooding back, loosening my limbs. Gripping on to my make-believe microphone I join in Madi’s impromptu karaoke and let Elton’s words revive my spirit.
*
My dad was right. We’ve walked a stone’s throw from the house and are currently contemplating which direction to take. One way looks to be nothing but forest, the most glorious trees that made visions of Snow White dance in my brain; the animals that we might come across, the trees that told stories in their bark. To the left stands gingerbread house after gingerbread house. If we go that way, I feel we will be gone for days exploring every minute detail of each garland and decoration that adorned each house. The path straight ahead bears no immediate destination, just a road that gleams with slippery snow and ice. In the distance, through the misty fog, there is a faint outline of mountains.
The cold air hits my face and I wave my arms out to the sides of my puffer coat. I feel like I am the leading lady in one of my holiday rom-coms, the world in front of me for the taking. A choice awaits me. For a moment I feel a shot of adrenaline course through me. There is beauty everywhere I look, and I want to run in all the directions, but I don’t quite feel courageous enough and fear takes over the adrenaline abruptly. I look over to Madi, whose blue eyes are gazing somewhere far away. We tend to share the same dazed look when stories and plots are zipping through our minds. She’s grinning broadly with her hands on her hips. I try to dispel my fear to appreciate this moment with her and take it all in.
‘Which way?’ I shout. My lips are buried behind my woolly purple scarf.
‘I have no idea,’ Madi shouts back, then she takes my hand and laughs. ‘How about we take the path that looks to lead to the unknown? It seems like the more adventurous and dangerous option.’ She wiggles her eyebrows at me, then hooks her arm through mine as we begin to walk up the treacherous path straight ahead.
‘You forgot to add terrifying?’ I say, raising my eyebrows at her, catching the double meaning behind her choice of words: the unknown path and the adventure. I know that, good or bad, what lies before me is going to be an adventure. I grew up with parents who believed the universe had plans for us and that we just had to trust it. I just hadn’t accounted for those plans to include divorce and my heart feeling like it was in a million pieces.
Quite frankly, I am petrified of what is lurking in the unknown. But the less I think about that now, the better. I put one foot in front of the other and focus on the golden sun reflecting off the snow, causing rainbows to dance in the trodden-down snow that has turned to ice. If I don’t quite trust the universe yet, one thing I know is that I trust Madi. I follow her lead and we walk in a calm and comfortable silence for what I feel is coming up to a mile.
I’m taking in as much of the surroundings as I can, but my head is down much of the time as I shield my face from the frosty breeze and do my best not to fall.
When I do look up, I feel as though I have walked through a portal that has transported us to The North Pole. Then I remember how my mother described Main Street at this time of year. It is like London’s Winter Wonderland but the decorations, the atmosphere and the aromatic smells are multiplied by a thousand. The old-town-USA-style shops resemble nothing short of Santa’s grotto. Each one bears unique tinsel, ornaments and magical window displays. The streetlamps are wearing candy cane stripes and the further we walk into the square, the more stalls we see selling everything from homemade fudge and chocolates, to homemade soaps and jewellery. Off to one side they have a Santa station and right before my eyes …
‘Are those real reindeer?’ Madi gasps. Her mouth opens wide.
‘I’m going to say yes,’ I reply, unable to take my eyes off Santa’s pack animals. They are beautiful; their fur is shining as they make soft grunting sounds as the children put their palms out to feed them.
‘This place is amazing,’ Madi gushes as we begin