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She is not lonely.
Madeline Ashton is never lonely. She has a legion of fans; a noteworthy career that is not experiencing any slowdowns whatsoever; more money than she could ever need. All of that is more than enough to sustain her. Except.
It is the holiday season. The time of year when the world gathers together amongst family and friends to celebrate and reminisce. Madeline thinks the rest of the world is a bunch of sentimental fools - after all, why celebrate the coming and going of another year? But then December arrives and she starts to reconsider.
The aspects of Madeline’s life that may not be completely perfect, those parts she typically chooses to ignore, they fall in sharp relief among the red and green lights.
But Madeline refuses to sit around and wait to feel better.
On this particular evening, Madeline has decided to stuff her pride down, down, deep down until she has the wherewithal to go and look for her husband.
She finds him in his study.
“Ernest?” Madeline starts, her voice fracturing the silence of their house. “It’s almost Christmas.”
“Yes?” Ernest does not glance up from the book in his hand. “Don’t worry, Madeline. I’ve had your gift ready for a few weeks. I think you’re really going to like this one.” She sincerely doubts that.
“That wasn’t my point.” Madeline reminds herself that she wants this, and she cannot get irritated with him just yet. She brightens her tone, “I thought we could watch a Christmas movie tonight.”
Now, Ernest looks at her. He blinks a few times behind his glasses. “As in, together?”
Down, down, down. “Yes,” she grits out.
“Oh. Sorry, it’s just. We haven’t really done much together, uh, recently.” Ernest looks confused. Madeline has noticed the looks he gives her, sometimes; like he is trying very hard to peer inside her brain. As if that would help anything between them after six years of marriage.
But: better not to dwell. It is almost Christmas, damn it, and Madeline wants to feel festive; she wants to feel light. As much as she hates to admit it, she would very much like to spend the evening in the presence of another human being.
As Stefan is currently on a holiday trip with his family to Hawaii, she is left with Ernest.
“Exactly. No better time than the holidays to…” Madeline flounders, searching for the proper word, “…Reconnect.” She grimaces slightly. Oh god, please don’t let Ernest take that unintended innuendo for an actual come-on.
Luckily, it seems to go by him unnoticed. Ernest has not shown much interest in sleeping with her as of late. Madeline vaguely wonders if he is having an affair. She had one earlier in the year, and it might make things a bit easier if he did too. She has neither time nor desire to sleep with Ernest; there is enough on her plate, thank you.
Ernest, oblivious to her internal reflections, now seems almost pleasantly surprised. “I suppose we could,” he says, contemplative. “Did you have a movie in mind?”
Madeline exhales, relieved that she does not have to do much more convincing. “Well, yes, actually I have been-"
“Oh! You know what we should watch?” Ernest cuts her off. “Die Hard – have you ever seen it, Madeline?”
She wrinkles her nose at the suggestion. “What? No, Ernest, that’s not-"
“Oh man,” he laughs, “talk about a great movie. And it’s technically a Christmas movie, you know? Bruce Willis is so great in that.”
Madeline sighs. She asked for this. Perhaps, this can be her gift for Ernest this year. “Fine. Die Hard it is.” She turns to leave the study. “I’m getting myself a drink. Can you set the movie up in the den?”
So. That evening, Madeline watches Die Hard.
Ernest sits in his designated section of the sofa, while Madeline curls up in the oversized accent chair. He seems to enjoy this movie and has obviously seen it multiple times. Madeline tries, but this is just not what she had in mind. It is an acceptable action movie, all things considered, but Madeline decides that Ernest and every other straight man on the planet is crazy for calling this a Christmas movie. She ought to send him off right now to be institutionalized, right next to Helen.
…
Oh. No, thank you. Madeline is not thinking about Helen tonight.
The end credits start to play, thank heavens, and Madeline can get on with the rest of her life.
Ernest smiles at her, “That was a good idea, Madeline.” She attempts a smile in return, knowing it looks forced, but she does not care.
He stands from the couch, meanders over to where she sits and leans down - seemingly to kiss her. She turns her head slightly so his mouth lands on her cheek instead.
This does not appear to bother Ernest. Par for the course with them, really.
He puts both hands on his mid-back and stretches with a quiet groan. When did her husband turn into this middle-aged man?
“Are you going to bed now?” he asks.
That is enough quality time for the foreseeable future. “Yes.” Madeline rises from the chair. “You’re welcome. Goodnight.”
They sleep in separate bedrooms, so it makes no difference if she lies to Ernest.
Madeline does not go right to bed. She has endured an action movie – Ernest was right to thank her for that. But now she needs a palate cleanser. Like the movie that she had in mind when first suggesting this stupid exercise in Acting Like Her Marriage is Fine.
She turns on the television in her bedroom, and pops open the DVD case. Of course she has a physical copy. This is one of her favorite movies, Christmas or not.
The sound of the opening drumroll. The screen goes black and then brightens. The camera follows a man walking down a New York street, in black and white, jaunty music playing as the credits float onscreen.
Madeline sighs contentedly, settling into the pile of blankets on her bed.
Maureen O’Hara. John Payne. In Miracle on 34th Street.
Ernest probably thought he sounded so cool by claiming Die Hard as a Christmas movie. But this? This was an actual Christmas movie. It was a classic for a reason, and had been one of Madeline’s favorite movies ever since she was a young girl in Newark.
There had not been too many happy Christmas memories from those days in New Jersey. Madeline tries not to dwell, but she can fondly recall being six years old and sitting on the couch next to her mother, watching this movie for the first time. She had been captivated by the crisp black and white, the scenes of New York City, beautiful actors speaking their lines with such sincerity in Mid-Atlantic accents.
(Old Hollywood had molded Madeline Ashton’s own accent, when her first agent had told her to “lose the Jersey.” She had fired that jackass as soon as she was financially able to do so, but the advice stuck.)
Madeline watches as an adorably young Natalie Wood chats with John Payne over the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. She grins to herself. They really do not make films like this anymore.
As the movie progresses, other holiday memories slip through her mind.
Helen had never seen Miracle on 34th Street, as Madeline had found out during their first year of rooming together at school.
“How is that possible, Helen?” Madeline gasped, “How could you not have seen this movie? Ever?” She had flopped into Helen’s lap as they lounged on her twin bed.
Helen rolled her eyes, “It’s not like I’ve never watched any movies. But we weren’t really a Christmas-movie household, growing up.”
She did not say anything more, but Madeline understood. She and Helen were different in a lot of ways. Talk about an unlikely pair, at least to the outside world. And yet, there were so many things that Madeline just got about Helen, and vice versa.
So: maybe Helen didn’t have many warm-and-fuzzy Christmas memories either. That was okay with Madeline. They could make new ones together.
“Well, we are watching it right now.” Madeline sat up and grabbed Helen by the shoulders, giving her an excited little shimmy. “Just give me ten minutes to rustle up some hot chocolate. You can thank me later, Hel!”
After, as the end-credits scrolled by, Helen and Madeline stayed seated next to each other on the ratty old couch in their dorm’s common room.
Helen turned to her and said, “I can see why you like it so much.”
Madeline felt a little tender, a little exposed. “I know it’s a corny old movie, but-"
Helen bumped shoulders with her. “I think it’s okay to be corny at Christmas.”
Madeline tried to hide her smile. “I knew you would get it, Hel.”
Helen clinked her empty mug of hot chocolate against Madeline’s. “Thanks for letting me watch with you, Mad.”
“I think this is our tradition now,” Madeline declared.
“Oh no,” Helen said with a groan.
“Nope,” Madeline shook her head at her friend. “No getting out of this one, Helen. It’s final: you have to watch Miracle on 34th Street with me every year from now on.”
“Whatever you say, Mad.” Helen’s voice was laced with sarcasm, but she gave Madeline a wide grin.
Madeline pushes away the memories. Who is she, Ebeneezer Scrooge? Digging up ghosts of Christmases past does no one any good.
On screen, John Payne’s character Fred is pleading with Maureen O’Hara’s Doris.
“Don’t you see? It’s not just Kris that’s on trial; it’s everything he stands for. It’s kindness and joy and love and all the other intangibles.”
There is something about Maureen O’Hara. With Helen still haunting the edges of her mind, Madeline is suddenly struck by the similarities between the two women. How has this never occurred to Madeline before, in all her previous rewatches?
Or maybe she is just seeing what she wants to see.
Fred’s continued admonishment permeates the room. “Look, Doris, someday you’re going to find that your way of facing this realistic world just doesn’t work. And when you do, don’t overlook those lovely intangibles. You’ll discover they’re the only things that are worthwhile.”
Kindness, joy, and love.
Madeline turns off the television. Maybe, she does not need to rewatch this year. It’s not like she doesn’t know how it all ends.
She foregoes the usual nighttime routine of her various lotions and potions, and switches off the light on the bedside table.
The king-sized bed is crowded with enough blankets and pillows that Madeline can almost pretend she is back in a narrow twin bed in a shitty dorm.
(Four years and some months later)
Christmas is in exactly three days. The whole month of December has flown by, and Madeline can feel her excitement building.
Excitement, or tension: she can’t decide which is more pronounced. Speaking for herself, Madeline has been vacillating between both with skill.
The last few months have certainly been a journey. After everything with Ernest – and, honestly, it’s better to just brush all of that under the proverbial rug – Helen had moved in.
She had made some vague, half-hearted protest, but Madeline had shot that idea down. Where else did she think she would go? After just getting Helen back in her life, Madeline refused to let her leave again. Unless she really, really wanted to - in which case Madeline already decided that she would bear that cross with great solemnity and grace, like a martyr.
As it happened, Helen wanted to stay. All Madeline wants is to have Helen close, so their little arrangement suits her just fine.
But even Madeline has to admit that the transition was bumpy, as she and Hel got reacquainted and figured out how to live together once again.
A lot of time had passed when they were apart. Sure; by and large, they are still the same people as ever. But with all the years came specific routines and preferences. Not to mention the emotional baggage. And, as the saying goes, old habits die hard (wait, that’s not Ernest haunting her from beyond the grave, is it??).
There had been more than a few arguments over the last eight months. Doors slammed. Insults hurled.
Gradually, though, Madeline realizes that they have both mellowed. That is not to say that she and Helen don’t ever bicker or argue – Madeline loves nothing more than bothering Helen, and Helen apparently thrives when she can be a bitch right back to Madeline.
But there have been multiple conversations – stilted and awkward, at first – where old wounds were hashed out, apologies restated, and tears soothed away.
So, yes: they are better now. Honestly, Madeline is not sure if she remembers ever feeling more content.
Except that for the first time in a very long time, there is something Madeline wants but does not know how to get.
With everything having settled down, Madeline has had space to notice other moments between them. Times when she finds Helen looking at her with something past fondness or friendship. Times when Madeline looks at Helen and imagines taking her in her arms.
Privately, Madeline feels like she is going a bit crazy. She kind of hopes that Helen is, too.
She thinks of Helen, always. It’s not like that is anything new, but Madeline does not want to hide from her feelings anymore. She can’t keep doing this, whatever this strange limbo is. Madeline’s wasted so much time.
If only she could figure out how to broach the subject with Helen.
They have decided to spend Christmas in L.A. Helen has mentioned maybe we could go back to New York for New Year’s? Madeline agreed, even though she cannot bring herself to consider celebrating the new year in any detail.
Because if Madeline thinks about New Year’s, she will think about watching the ball drop at midnight. And if she thinks about watching the ball drop, then she will think about kissing Helen at midnight. And, if Madeline wasn’t already dead, that thought would kill her.
So, anyway. Christmas in Los Angeles.
Madeline is looking through her walk-in closet, picking out items here and there and holding them up in the light with a clinical stare. Most of them, she is keeping; back into the closet they go. But over the last hour she has gathered together a nice little selection of clothing for which she no longer has any use. Tomorrow, Stefan will bag up these items and bring them to The Giving Tree, Madeline’s charity of choice at the holidays.
Helen finds her there. She leans against the doorway to the closet, watching Madeline dig through her collection of finery. “How’s it going in here?”
“What do you think of this skirt, Hel?” Madeline holds up an almost-obscenely short black leather number. “It’s flattering, of course, but I’m not sure I have anywhere to wear it.” Helen does not respond, and Madeline frowns at her. “Should I try it on, so you can give me your opinion?”
Helen coughs. “No need. Keep it.” Her cheeks are a very becoming shade of pink.
Madeline squints at her. “What do you have in your hands?”
Helen is holding both arms behind her back. “I have something to ask you.”
“Ooh, mysterious. What is it?”
“It seems only right, would you agree, that we reinstate our tradition?” Helen reveals her left hand, which is holding a DVD case of Miracle on 34th Street.
Wait…is that Madeline’s copy? No, the cover is slightly different from hers.
Does – does Helen have her own copy of the film?
Madeline drops the skirt to the pile of clothing at her feet. “You remembered?”
“You only made me watch it every year that we lived together. And then would call me on the phone so we could watch it at the same time when you moved out here.” Helen gives her a little smile, “It was kind of hard to forget.”
Madeline figures that she can finish going through her clothes later. “Yay,” she claps excitedly.
She sidesteps the clothes on the floor and links her arm with Helen’s to pull her out of the closet, out of the bedroom. Madeline aims for an aloof tone as she says, “Well, I mean, if you insist, Hel.”
It only takes Helen a couple of tries to solve the puzzle that is the television; she gets confused on how to change the input selection. Madeline generously offers to help, in between laughing at her for being an old lady. Helen naturally refuses her assistance with a huff.
(Helen is wearing her glasses today. She can see perfectly well, but she still likes to wear them, now without prescription lenses. Madeline likes to tease Helen about them sometimes, but truthfully the glasses work for her. They really work for Madeline, too.)
They settle next to each other on the sofa, once Helen finally figures out the damn TV and gets the movie queued up.
As the opening credits start, Helen says, “I’ve missed this.”
“What?”
Helen gestures at the television, “Our tradition. I haven’t rewatched this in years.”
Madeline hits ‘pause’ on the remote and stares at her. “Oh. Really?”
Helen tilts her head to give Madeline some fairly spectacular side-eye. “I was a little preoccupied with fantasies of murder for a few years.” Madeline smiles at that. It’s so nice that they can joke about these things. Helen continues, “When Christmas would roll around, I’d consider watching it again. But,” she shrugs, “it made me sad.”
“Why?” Madeline asks, frowning.
Helen shrugs once more but doesn’t look away. “I think I missed you. Or something.” There it is. That look again, the one that makes Madeline’s stomach feel like it is vanishing into thin air.
She feels far-away as she says, “I rewatched it every year.”
Helen snorts, “Of course you did.”
“But it wasn’t the same without you, either.”
Helen reaches over to put her hand on Madeline’s knee. Madeline feels the (admittedly, grievously) polite touch zing up her spine. Helen rubs her thumb back and forth, then asks, “You gonna press play, or what?”
Madeline nods her head, trying to regain some composure. The movie starts again, and the music swells. Helen is tucked in beside her on the couch, hand still on Madeline’s knee, and Madeline feels like she might combust.
As the familiar scenes play out on screen, Madeline finds herself not so much watching the movie as she is watching Helen. The way she smiles as Kris Kringle starts speaking in Dutch to a small girl, the way she laughs at Natalie Wood’s gum chewing.
But when characters start questioning Kris Kringle’s sanity, Madeline reaches out to grab Helen’s hand in sudden concern.
Shit, how could she have been so stupid? Helen does not want to watch this; this is probably so triggering and will just bring back bad memories. Madeline fumbles for the remote, before Helen shakes their clasped hands to get her attention.
“Mad. It’s okay.”
Madeline feels sick. “Are you sure? Because we don’t have to-”
Helen nods, “Believe me. It’s okay.”
Helen keeps a hold of her hand so they are just - well, they’re holding hands, now. As the movie continues, Madeline’s breathing settles. Helen really does seem unbothered, so maybe everything is okay?
The movie starts to reach its conclusion. As Fred finally sweeps Doris into his arms, Helen’s fingers are gently tracing her palm and wrist, and Madeline decides she can’t stand much more of this.
She clears her throat, “You know, looking back, I think I always had a thing for Maureen O’Hara.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Helen glance at her. “Did you?”
Madeline keeps her eyes on the screen. “Mmhmm.”
“What was it about her?” Helen’s hand is warm in her own.
Madeline feels her stomach flutter. “I mean, just look at her. Those big eyes. Pale skin, that red hair.” Helen is still staring at her. Madeline refuses to look back and continues, “It’s just a shame this movie is in black and white. Red hair like that is really meant to be seen in Technicolor.”
She turns to meet Helen’s eyes. “Kind of like yours, actually.”
Helen says nothing except, “Hmm.”
The movie ends, the credits play out. Neither one of them is looking at the screen.
Madeline interlaces her fingers with Helen’s. “Thank you for watching with me, Hel.”
“It’s our tradition,” Helen says, quite seriously. “No getting out of this, Mad.”
Madeline fights back a grin. Without quite meaning to, she blurts out, “Can I give you your gift now?”
Helen blinks at her once, twice before saying, “Wouldn’t you rather wait until it’s actually Christmas?”
Madeline shakes her head, “Not really, no.” She presses the quickest kiss to Helen’s knuckles before releasing her hand. “Hold on; stay here.”
She leaves, dashing down the hall to the Christmas tree in the formal sitting room, where a small mountain of presents are piled. Madeline beelines for a rectangular gift tucked under the tree. Present in hand, she hurries back to the den, practically sliding on the hardwood floor in her haste.
Madeline deposits the gift on Helen’s lap, then moves to stand a few steps away. She is only slightly out of breath as she says, “I hope you like it.”
Helen looks at the wrapped object in her hands. She smirks at Madeline, and gives the gift a funny little shake, like she’s listening for something inside even though the shape gives the game away. “It’s a book?” she asks.
Madeline waves a hand at her, prompting Helen to loosen the red bow and tear off the designer wrapping paper. It is indeed a book. A vintage hardcover copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude, an Italian translation. Madeline knows that Helen has multiple copies already, but hopefully none from Italy.
It is Helen’s favorite book.
Helen is not saying anything. Madeline panics again, suddenly worried that everything about this evening has been a mistake. Double shit. She starts to ramble, “I actually bought it a few years ago. I was in Italy for a location shoot, and spent the weekend in Venice. I stopped in a little, old bookshop and stumbled upon this. When I saw it, it made me think of you, and I just,” Madeline swallows, entirely mortified, “I had to buy it. So.”
Helen is still staring at the book. “Madeline.”
“Oh. You don’t like it?”
“Madeline,” Helen says again, and looks up. Her eyes are shining. She shakes her head, “I can’t believe you.”
Relief floods her veins, and Madeline feels like she just might keel over. “I did good?”
“So good.” Helen reaches out and takes one of Madeline’s hands. Again, with the hand-holding. It’s enough to give a girl ideas. “Why would you do that?” Madeline knows she is not asking about the general concept of gift-giving.
There is a small bit of fear lingering in her gut, but Helen is looking at her with such unbridled affection. She has never looked lovelier and Madeline is exhausted by whatever has been going on between them, so she decides to get to the point. “I meant it, Hel. I never stopped thinking about you.”
Helen places the book down on the couch, then uses their joined hands to leverage herself up to stand in front of Madeline.
“Thank you,” she says. Her gaze travels over Madeline’s face. Madeline stares right back, trying to figure out how to say, exactly -
Helen cocks her head and asks, “Are you ever going to kiss me?”
Huh? Close up: Madeline Ashton, dumbstruck and gaping at her friend. (Her friend??)
Helen sounds exasperated as she says, “Of course you’re going to make me do all the work.”
That tone gives Madeline some pep back. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, well. Whatever.” And then, then. Helen puts a hand at the back of Madeline’s neck, pulls her in, and kisses her.
Helen’s lips are so soft. Her touch is tender, and sweet. Helen’s mouth lingers on Madeline’s upper lip for a few moments, before she pulls back. Madeline aches at the loss, but she is grateful because she needs a…um. She needs a moment.
She can feel Helen’s fingers playing with her hair. Her own voice sounds thick as she asks, “What did you do that for?”
Helen looks smug. “Well,” she says pointedly, “if it was up to you, we’d apparently spend the rest of our lives watching movies with neither of us making a move.”
There’s that damn flutter again. Madeline, feeling more like herself, beams. “Trying to make a move on me, Sharp?”
“God knows why. You’re insufferable.” Helen’s nails gently scratch the back of her neck and Madeline shivers. “I’m going to kiss you again.”
And she does. Madeline has recovered most of her wits, now, and kisses her back. Her hands come to rest on Helen’s waist and Madeline wants to pull her as close as possible. She parts her lips, just skimming her tongue against Helen’s mouth. Helen makes a half-strangled noise, and her lips open, and -
Oh, yes. Thank you, God or the universe, whoever might be listening out there. Madeline feels ten-feet tall. She wraps an arm around Helen’s shoulders, her other hand reaching up to hold her face. Helen lets out a whimper and pulls away. Maybe she needs a moment too.
Madeline rests her forehead on Helen’s. “Was that okay?” She leans down to press a kiss to Helen’s cheek, then the space next to her ear, down to her jaw.
“Um,” Helen sounds a bit shaky, “Yes.” She turns her head to brush her lips against Madeline’s. “So don’t stop now.”
Madeline smiles. She steps forward, gently pushing Helen until the back of her knees bump into the sofa. They break apart as Helen falls back with a quiet “oof,” and Madeline’s hands on her shoulders. Madeline smiles down at her as she moves to straddle Helen.
Helen’s hands immediately grab onto her hips, and she whispers, “Come here, please.” Her voice is gravelly. It might be the hottest thing Madeline’s ever heard.
She is only too happy to oblige the request. But first, she reaches up to take off Helen’s glasses, carefully folding and placing them on the sofa. Then, Madeline dips her head to slant her lips over Helen’s. Helen lets out a quiet groan that does funny things to Madeline’s still heart. One of her hands comes up to cradle Madeline’s head again, anchoring her. Jesus, Madeline thinks, how did they go so long without this?
Helen licks into Madeline’s mouth and Madeline doesn’t even bother trying to hold back her moan. She has one hand wrapped in Helen’s hair, the other trailing down her side, coming to rest possessively on her ribs.
Madeline thinks she might go mad if Helen ever stops touching her.
Helen releases her lips with a soft ‘pop’ and pulls back, just a little, to look at her. Madeline feels helpless, she can’t stop looking at that mouth.
“You know,” Helen says, “that was pretty romantic. Buying a book because it made you think of me, when we hadn’t spoken in years.”
Madeline tosses her hair in offense, exceptionally pleased by the way the motion draws Helen’s eyes to her neck. She looks transfixed. “Excuse you, it was actually incredibly romantic of me.”
Madeline drags her hand from Helen’s ribs up the side of her breast. Just a ghosting touch, really. But Helen’s breathing hitches; Madeline smirks. She leans in to hold that smirk against Helen’s lips. “And you were literally fantasizing about me for a decade. So, you really don’t have a leg to stand on.”
“Murderous fantasies,” Helen mumbles. Her hands travel from Madeline’s hips to the small of her back, right where her spine curves into more.
“Still,” Madeline whispers sweetly into her mouth, “It’s nice to be thought of.”
This time, it’s Helen who pushes forward, dragging their lips together.
Madeline feels all lit up, she can’t get over this. Madeline wants to go for it, really; she wants to dive in and not stop until Helen is falling to pieces on this sofa. But there is something else she needs to ask Helen first.
Madeline pulls back slowly, teeth tugging lightly on Helen’s bottom lip. Helen has a very cute, very glazed look in her eyes. Madeline wants to make her look like that all the time.
“So,” Madeline strokes the back of her finger along Helen’s cheekbone. “What did you get me for Christmas?”
A surprised laugh bursts out of Helen. “Christ. Aren’t I gift enough?”
“You are. You so are,” Madeline says hurriedly. She leans in and bestows a series of quick pecks all along Helen’s face. This is something she gets to do, now. Oh, Madeline is going to be so obnoxious about this. She can’t wait.
Madeline sits back, her weight fully resting on Helen. She bats her eyes, pouting only a little when she asks, “But, you did get me something, right?”
Helen smiles. “Insufferable, as I said.”
God, Madeline is a goner.