She could feel the heat building, spreading up through her chest and into the back of her throat, making her eyes sting.

Lauren had always prided herself on giving people the benefit of the doubt, on treating people with respect, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to do either for this woman.

“Your son,” she said slowly, giving due weight to every word, “is one of the best people I’ve ever known.” She inhaled a shaking breath. “And I feel sorry for you that you don’t know him.”

With that she turned and headed up the stairs, refusing to look back, even when she heard her mumble something about a stupid, naive girl.

By the time she reached Michael’s door, her hands were shaking. She stopped and closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath and trying to rid her expression of any remaining animosity before she opened the door.

He was ly@">, leing on his bed, one hand behind his head and the other holding the remote, aimlessly flipping through the channels on his television.

When the door opened, he turned his head, smiling when he saw it was her.

“Hey Red,” he said, sitting up. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have family stuff going on?”

“Yeah,” she said, walking in and closing the door behind her. “But I just wanted to stop by and say Merry Christmas.”

Michael tossed the remote on the bed behind him. “You mean your holiday spirit wasn’t sucked right out of you the second you crossed over the threshold?”

Lauren forced a sad smile, dropping her eyes to the floor.

“We don’t really do Christmas here. Obviously.”

Lauren looked up. “Ever?” she asked, and Michael shrugged.

“Not since my brother died.”

“Oh,” Lauren said faintly. A beat of silence passed before she said, “Well, do you want to come over to my house?” Forever? she thought. More than ever, she just wanted to take him and run with him some place far away.

“Nah, that’s okay,” he said. His eyes dropped to the package in her hand. “What’s that?” he asked, quirking his brow as a tiny smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

At his expression, Lauren smiled her first genuine smile since she pulled into his driveway.

“Your present,” she said.

Michael grinned. “Didn’t I tell you not to get me anything?”

“Yes,” she said, crossing the room to sit on the bed beside him, “and by the expression on your face, I can tell you’re really broken up over the fact that I didn’t listen.”

Michael laughed, shifting to face her on the bed as she handed the bag to him.

He dug his hand in the bag like an eager child, and again, Lauren felt a heaviness in her chest as her eyes began to sting for him. She cleared her throat and pushed those feelings away, focusing on the moment.

He pulled the flat, rectangular box out of the bag, and immediately his jaw dropped.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he said in complete awe, tossing the bag on the floor and holding the box in two hands.

Lauren grinned, and he lifted his eyes to her, completely shocked. “Holy shit, are you kidding me?” he said, and she laughed.

“Do you like it?”

“Jesus Christ, Red, how did you get this?” he asked, turning the box over to read the back.

Lauren had never gotten into video games. Michael had tried a few times to show her how to play, but it was never her thing. But apparently this new game, Metroid Prime, was supposed to be amazing. It was the first 3D game in that series for GameCube, and also boasted a first-person adventure premise. It had gotten all sorts of amazing reviews before it was even released in November, making it essentially impossible to find during the holiday season.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” she lied.

He smirked at her and shook his head. “You are so full of shit.”

Lauren laughed. “I just had to betroth myself to some Arabian prince. Like I said, no big deal.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate. Totally worth it, but unfortunate,” he said, and owleasiLauren leaned over and smacked his chest, causing him to laugh.

“This is…” he looked back at the box, shaking his head before he lifted his eyes to hers. “Whatever you had to do to get this, seriously…thank you.” He leaned over, pulling her into his chest as he hugged her, and Lauren closed her eyes.

“You’re welcome,” she said into his shirt.

Too soon, she felt him release her, and she sat back as he stood from the bed and walked to the other side of the room. She assumed he was going to put the game into his system, but he walked past the television and over to his closet, grabbing something off the top shelf.

When he turned back toward the bed, she could see it was a small square box wrapped in shiny green paper.

“Merry Christmas Red,” he said, tossing the box to her before he sat back down on the bed.

“You got me something? I thought you said—”

“I know what I said. Shut up and open it.”

Lauren looked up to see him motioning with his head toward the box in her hands, encouraging her.

She carefully peeled back the paper and pulled out a red, hinged box.

Inside was a necklace, made up of several tiny silver leaves connected with delicate vines, twirling and intertwining up to the clasp. The leaves were faceted so that the light shimmered off them in prisms, making them sparkle.

“Oh my gosh, this is so…pretty.” She brought her fingertip to one of the leaves, the movement causing it to glitter. “Is this ivy?” she asked, looking up at him.

Michael smiled. “We had to do a project in art. Some crap about symbolism in nature. I couldn’t come up with anything, so Miss Abramo assigned me ivy.” He shrugged. “It made me think of you.”

“What do you mean?” Lauren asked.

He shook his head. “Here,” he said, reaching for the box and pulling the necklace out. He opened the clasp and held it out, and Lauren leaned forward as he put it around her neck, closing it behind her.

Michael sat back, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “It looks good on you, Red.”

Her hand came to the necklace, holding it against her skin as she felt her cheeks get hot. “Thank you.”

They sat there in silence for a moment before Lauren looked down at her watch. “I should be getting back,” she said softly.

“Alright. Well, thanks for coming over. Give me a call tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back with me?” Lauren asked.

“No, I’m good. I got this,” he said, holding up the video game with a smile.

“Okay,” she said, standing from the bed, not wanting to leave him even though she knew she had to. “But if you decide you want to get out of here for a bit, just come over.”

“I will. Merry Christmas,” he said, hugging her once more, and she gave him one last squeeze before she grabbed her purse and headed back downstairs.

Thankfully, Michael’s mother was nowhere to be seen when she came back through the living room; Lauren didn’t know if she’d be able to curb her tongue if they had another encounter, and the last thing she wanted to do was have it out with that woman.

She drove home in silence, one hand on the wheel and the other playin { display: block; text-indent: 0%; font-size: 0.88rem; margin-top: owleasig with the delicate silver vines at her throat.

As soon as she got back home, she bypassed the crowd of her family in the living room and ran upstairs, powering up her computer. And then she opened her search engine and typed in “ivy symbolism” before hitting enter.

Several sites came up as a result, and Lauren clicked on the first one and began reading.

Ever furrowing and intertwining, the ivy is an example of the twists and turns our lives often take, but because ivy has the propensity to interweave in its growth, it is also a testimony to the long-lasting connections we can form with others throughout our lives.