A Friend for Christmas

Christmas.

The word brought a mixture of feelings, most of them negative. While I liked the cooler weather and some of the music, the commercialism, the fake friendliness, and the culture of possessiveness around it were strong enough to make me swear off the whole holiday. And of course, mandatory overtime.

Some of the clothes were cute, however.

I sighed, and walked across the busy street. Christmas meant snow for everyone else, but here the most that I could get was to wear long sleeves and a jacket, and not be sweating my rear off.

Long sleeves were amazing at covering bruises, but I tended to get questions and stares when it was sweltering outside, and I still had them on year-round.

My head was down, since I was in my own thoughts, but I had enough presence of mind to at least check both ways before crossing the street. That didn't count for other pedestrians, however, and I ended up running headfirst, literally, into someone trying to walk the opposite way. We both fell in a jumble.

"God, watch where you're going!" I heard a male voice from somewhere above me. I had scrapes along my palms, and the blood was distracting.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to, man," I replied, as if by rote. "It won't happen again."

"I guess not," his voice sounded somewhat mollified. "Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine. Sorry again," I scrambled to my feet, hissing as the pain from the asphalt stuck into my hand began to hit. I bent at my waist, and examined my torn jeans. "Ah, crap."

"You got a little beat up, come on," I felt the stranger's hand close around my elbow, and he half pulled, half walked me back the way he had come. I looked up, finally, and just saw longish brown-black hair, until he looked back at me.

I felt like I'd been hit across the chest. His eyes were a deep emerald green- the way they caught the setting sun made them look practically otherworldly.

I coughed, inadvertently as I inhaled and my breath caught in surprise. I looked away as soon as I realized that I was staring, but not before I saw a small smile creep across the stranger's face. Great, I'm all banged up, and I'm making a fool of myself.

"Sit here," the stranger instructed, pointing to a small bench, decorated with holly bushes in pots on either side. I sat, and began to pick the gravelly stones out of my hands.

"You really got beat up," the stranger repeated. "I guess you cushioned my fall- I didn't get hurt a bit."

"That's good to hear," I said as I looked up. He was bent towards me, way too close, looking at my knees. "Does it hurt?" he asked, poking at the torn spot.

"Ow!" I cried. "Let me get the rocks out of my hands first, please!"

"Right, sorry," he said, taking my hand and pulling it towards his face. He was a little too forceful, and I didn't notice right away that my sleeve rolled up with the gesture. For a few moments, he removed the small debris from my scrapes. Until he stopped, and met my eyes; something in his gaze made it almost impossible for me to look away.

"And these are older, right?" he asked, and pushed my sleeve back further. The angry bruises and welts showed against my pale skin with stark contrast.

I stood, yanking my hand away and rolling down the sleeve quickly. I yelped a little, as the time sitting had allowed my knee to swell slightly. "I'm going to be late for my new job," I stuttered. "I have to go. I'm sorry for running into you!" I walked away as quickly as I could, limping.

"Wait, come back!" he called behind me. I heard his footsteps as he quickly sprinted up.

"I'm fine, thank you," I said icily. "I don't have any money to offer you for your trouble."

"Really not interested in money," he retorted. "I feel bad for using you as a break for my fall."

"And I caused the fall, so we are even. And I'm going to lose my job before I even start it if I'm late," I replied. "I really need to go." Crap, my leg is really starting to hurt.

"I don't think you're in a good condition to work," he pointed out.

"It's just a slip and fall, if I broke something from that I deserved it," I said. He caught my shoulder, then sped up, walking backwards to face me. I tried as hard as I could to avoid those bewitching eyes.

"You don't deserve anything like that just for a mistake," he said softly. The implication of his words made me feel like I was going to burst into tears.

"I really can't talk right now," I said, and heard my voice shake. I was so close to tears. Today had been a really bad day at home. Even the news of another job and more money coming in wasn't enough to stop the beatings. The limited understanding of a stranger about my situation was almost enough to open the floodgates of emotion I'd been biting back for the year.

"I understand. You can't talk right now," he repeated, and I felt a small warning bell in my mind. Why did he say it like that?

"Right, I can't talk right now. So, please, I'm just going to work," I said, trying to force myself to walk normally. The stranger turned so he was walking beside me now, easily keeping pace.

"What are you doing?" I asked, suspiciously.

"You're going to work," he replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "So I'll wait until you're off work. Then you can talk, right?"

"It's a ten hour shift," I said.

"That's fine," he replied. "I can wait."

I thought for a moment. Well, if need be, I can skip my lunch and say something came up to leave early. I already was probably going to lose the job anyway, being late. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought, ruefully.

"What's your name?" he asked, suddenly. I thought about lying, but remembered I was wearing a name tag for this new position. Retail sucks.

"I'm Laina," I replied.

"Nice to meet you, Laina, I'm Tak," he said, smiling at me.

"Tac? Like a tic-tac?"

"Tak. It's short for Takoda," he explained. "It's Sioux."

"Oh," I replied. "You're Sioux? I think I'm like, a quarter Cherokee."

He sniffed, almost derisively. "Most people around here have some sort of Native American in their heritage. Most of the time it wasn't consensual, either."

I closed my mouth awkwardly. He was right, of course. It wasn't something to be proud of.

"Oh, I didn't mean that badly to you," he said, sensing my embarrassment. "It's just sort of a- yeah. Never mind."

I stopped at the storefront of where I'd been hired a few days before, christmas music blaring to be heard even outside. "Well, this is me," I said. "I'll see you around, Tak. Thanks for walking me here."

"No problem, Lain," he said easily, glancing at his watch. "So, I'll be back around 11 to pick you up?"

"Oh, no. No, that would be very bad," I replied. "I already have a ride and if they see you, there'll be problems for me."

"Your boyfriend?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"No, no, I don't have- no," I said, stumbling. How can I get him to understand and back off? "It's- it's my family. I can walk here but walking back this late would be bad, so they come to get me."

"And…?"

"And it'll be a problem for me," I said. "I really don't have time to explain. Just, thank you for walking with me, and again, I'm sorry." I darted away as quickly as I could into the store; I'm sure it looked ridiculous with my limp. The manager caught me just inside the door, and I began to apologize. Over her shoulder, I could see Tak studying the outside of the storefront thoughtfully, and then continue to walk back the way we had come.

Whew. Looks like he took my hint.

But why did I feel like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop?