The 12 Days of Christmas Just Got Hotter!
I brushed my fingers on the butcher block countertop. I remembered my mom insisted that we must have them in our kitchen. Dad thought they were silly and going to get cut up, but he always gave into my mom. I smiled to myself, thinking about how many times I sat there with Etta, pretending to do homework when really I just spent the whole time glancing over at how good she looked. When I found an ad for my parents’ former house in one of the free real estate magazines at the gas station, I was intrigued. But when I saw Etta’s big brown eyes staring back at me from the corner of the ad, I knew I had to see it.
I loved her. Part of me still did. Even though it was years ago that we were together and she broke up with me when she left for college, I still couldn’t get her out of my head. When I heard she moved back to town I couldn’t figure out a way to contact her, but after almost two years, walking around and debating what to do, I decided that the ad was a sign. Even if it was Christmas Eve.
“Would you like to see the rest of the house, Andrew?” Etta asked.
I looked back over at the girl I loved. Did she still love me? She definitely wasn’t the same girl I remembered; there was something different about her. She was older and it was as if all those years added some wisdom. She knew what she was talking about when she pointed out every nook and cranny of the house, explaining the plumbing changes and what the inspector had seen. She also looked different, that was for sure, but I liked the new look. I always thought she was too skinny, all those years of dance kept her as thin as a rail and now I wanted to run my hands down the new curves of her body. I wanted to rip the skirt right off of her and delicately, slowly peel her tights off and feel those legs around me. But I had to keep my head in check. Maybe she didn’t feel the same way. Maybe I was just making a fool of myself.