Finally, she thought. That was painful.
Rita wasn't the type who got hyped over holiday prep. She definitely wasn't the type to savor a visit with the whole extended family. Every minute felt longer than the one before.
She needed to survive another Christmas at the family home but that meant enduring the parade of relatives. She was one of the few in the family who had left this shitty town to make something of herself. She was also possibly the only one who wasn't on her knees for some priest (metaphorically or otherwise) every Sunday.
The room that had been hers throughout her younger years seemed remarkably small now, and it wasn't just because her parents had stashed some boxes in there for storage. The place felt confining no matter where she looked.
Rita dug through her luggage but didn't really know what for. There were elegant dresses she suddenly didn't feel her family deserved to see, gifts for the little shithead nieces and nephews, a vibrator that might get her disowned if her mother saw it. She chuckled at that last thought. She had been on the brink of disownment ever since she'd moved out of town and even more so since cutting her hair short.
"I'll just get some fresh air," she finally said to herself. She was still wearing the conservative winter dress from before. It was probably the only thing she owned that Aunt Martha would deem acceptable -- though it probably rode the line since it had buttons down the front which could open the way for sin or some shit. Rita threw on a coat over the top to ward off the December breeze.
The neighborhood hadn't changed, though it, too, seemed more compact than before. There was the Madsons' ugly yellow house, the Wilsons' place lit up with half a city's worth of Christmas lights, the place where that creepy old Travis Christolm used to live...
The memories were not exactly nostalgic.
Despite the sun still clinging to the horizon there weren't many people out. The biting cold saw to that.
Rita had been so lost in her thoughts she was almost upon him before she realized it. The man was tall, but not remarkably so, bearded but not notable for it, thin but not excessively so. He pulled his snow shovel short so as not to block her path.
"Hello, hello," he said, amiably.
Rita sneered upward, ready to remain peeved. Something relaxed her tension just slightly. "Hi..."
Something about him seemed familiar but she couldn't place it.
"Best watch your step, Rita. The ice don't taste like schnozzberries."
His familiarity with her would have been creepy as fuck if he hadn't given away the game. "Henry? Seriously?" She'd never seen him with a beard before but now his face was obvious. He'd always been one of those oddball side-characters in high school that nobody could figure out.
"At your service," he swept off his beanie and gave a mocking bow. It was a weird thing to say, but then, at least to the extent that she knew him, that's always what Henry had been. His dirty blond hair wagged noncommittally in the breeze. Rita thought she might detect the edge of a tattoo peeking above his collar -- a rarity in this town.
"You still live here?"
He shrugged. "Shit happens. Could be worse."
"You sure about that?"
"Well, I could be wandering through the cold brooding to myself."
Ooh, deep cut. She'd almost forgotten that about him. But the insult also helped cut through her haze. "You haven't gotten wrapped up in the town cult, have you?" She jerked her thumb back toward the church.
"Nah, they can keep their dry crackers and goofy hats. I'll sleep in on the weekend."
"Finally, I found one person in this town who isn't nuts."
He gave her a little mock salute and the smirky smile everyone knew him for.
