Fanfiction

I’ll be with you in a minute.

I’m....almost...done...with...these. Just have to finish stirring.

Okay...there! Perfect! There is *nothing* like homemade caramels at Christmas time. And the girls love them. Okay, they love to *eat* them, anyway. I usually get to make them by myself. Like now. Angela and Danielle used to help...but I guess I’m the only one who never outgrew the “cooking is fun” stage.

So, he hedged, what exactly am I supposed to talk about? Let me think a minute while I clean up in here. Sorry about the mess, by the way. Let’s see...my favorite Christmas. I don’t think I *have* a favorite Christmas. There have been so many...well, not *that* many...but enough to blur the edges a little. Trust me, after this many Christmases with Vivian and Chuck, blurring can be a definite good thing.

Off the top of my head, I’d have to say the Christmas about, oh, three years ago was one of the best. I didn’t realize it at the time, of course.  Do we ever?  Angela was twelve and Danielle was seven. There was nothing really...*spectacular* about that day, you know? Except that they loved me. Without question. I didn’t have to try so...*hard* with Angela. Or Danielle, for that matter. Back then, a conversation was just a conversation. I didn’t need to navigate through a dozen buried minefields.

I know that trying a little harder is okay. That this is a natural progression. I understand that. It’s just that this is still new to me. And I miss that look on Angela’s face. The look that said how much she loved me. Not that she doesn’t love me, I don’t mean that. She does. It’s just a more...*quiet* love, or something.

That’s one thing I’ve learned about love. It has different voices. I just have to listen.

The other Christmas that really sticks out in my mind was last year. We helped Rickie--one of Angela’s friends, a great kid, the best--and that was a wonderful feeling. But that’s not what made my Christmas. See, Patty signed me up for this cooking class and I met this...this...loudmouth know-it-all named Hallie Lowenthal. Only one day I realized she wasn’t really *that* loud. But she really *is* a know-it-all. I hate to admit it, but she probably knows what I’m thinking better than I do. Take the whole restaurant thing for example. Hallie believed in me. *Me*! She believed in me when Patty didn’t. Or couldn’t. Sometimes I still can’t believe that this is actually happening. I’m going to be a chef. I *am* a chef.

I like to cook. End of story. Some people need an office. I’m not one of them. Cooking gives me a kind of...control. As stupid as that sounds, and I know it does. Because I have this habit of missing out on my life. I missed seeing Angela’s birth. I never went to college. I just got tired of life passing me by. And Hallie was the one who found a way to help me grab onto life in a place I actually wanted to be.

Last Christmas was filled with long talks after every class. Hallie trying to convince me to be her partner. Me telling her “no”. Thank God she didn’t listen to me. Because even now, in the final stages of the restaurant planning, I can’t believe she still wants me to be her partner. But Hallie *is* my business partner. And she’s so much *more* than that! She's my...my...um, friend.

She...she woke me up. And the funny thing is, I didn’t even know I was sleeping.

Whoa! Jeez! Will you look at the time? I’ve, ahem, been running off at the mouth when I have caramels to wrap. But, um, have a Merry Christmas. Or whatever you might celebrate.

I hope you all have the same chance to wake up that I did. No Christmas present is better.