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One more Christmas Eve

A/N Это предусматривался как рождественский райтинг на уроке английского языка. Но писать что-то абстрактное было скучно. Поэтому вышла вот такая фантазия по мотивам "Kimi wa petto" - трагикомедии о нашем свихнувшемся мире.

One more A/N So... What do we have here? Nothing really special, just one more story, all sugar and honey ^_^ My first try to write something in English in attempt to pay tribute to my favorite story.

***

It was not her first Christmas alone. It had happened before - to spend Christmas Eve all alone. It was not a problem, really: cup of tea, bath, book and healthy sleep, these were enough for her. One more point: no TV. She was not so sentimental (or so bored) to watch movies, all sugar and honey, or TV-shows with couples and families sinking into their own small happiness and working out their silly and false problems. Or maybe she was just too self-confident for not thinking about it and she usually spent one more Christmas like one more working day. Free day, more precisely.
But now it was not enough. When did it happen? When did she - a successful business lady, all high and mighty, young (well... not really) and attractive (damn attractive!) - started stripping from all she had treasured? When and why? She always was so dedicative, purposeful, shrewd, hard-working... or just workaholic, as her subordinates usually said. And steel-willed.
'She has to get a boyfriend and just f*ck her problems out', she overheard once. It turned to be the last phrase that miss Kent, the secretary, said. After summarizing things before and things way before that she was fired that very evening.
She had enough stuff to sweat out without any emotional - not mention love - affairs, whether it would be male boyfriend or female friend. Or visa versa.
She knew exactly when it had started. It was an early winter evening after a brief day that was like a moment of light between winter darknesses. The whole world was black and white, the first uncertain snow was delineated with street-lamps yellow circles, and inked-black branches of trees seemed so naked under white snow caps. That evening she found a big - really big - cardboard box. 'The best bananas for you!' - the label claimed proudly. Inside the box was wounded man. She let her feelings get the best of her and didn't even realized when and why she dragged him into the apartment, why she didn't call neither police nor emergency but treated his wounds (mostly grazed, thanks God) by herself and let him rest for a night.
The days after embedded in her memory as a black-and-white old movie, a sequence of dichromatic images. He had healed pretty fast and turned out to be stubborn, cunning, sharp-minded and charming - so charming that she didn't pursue herself to get rid of him neither week nor month after. His story sounded quite convictive and for some reasons he was homeless.
'I'm not ready to keep a man at home, not even a boyfriend,' she was not going to give up. 'Maybe a cat or a dog...'
'Are pets allowed?' He mused.'I could be your monkey', he added helpfully.
'Yeah, a monkey, banana-boy.' She made a wry face. 'A dog.'
He thought for a while and then beamed.
'OK, let's shake a deal.'
She didn't bother herself to give him a proper name or ask him about his own. Just 'Boy'. A dog named Boy. He played his role properly: always happily met her after work, brought her slippers and remote control; loved to walk together every evening listening patiently to her complaints, scolding her for making a mountain out of a mole hill or just smiling all her problems away... Always cheered her up and always knew when he should shut up and disappear from her sight. He was a good dog. They shared one roof but had never been lovers or sweethearts, or even friends - just an owner and a pet.
The day he silently went forth into the night her life turned and twisted much more seriously than the day he had been literally dragged into it. She suddenly deprived herself of reasons to hurry from work, to look through goods in shops seeking his favorite snacks. Blue scarf intended to be his Christmas present turned into the symbol of eternal and utter loneliness. And she wanted to cry. A lot.
It was not her first Christmas alone. But for the first time she had realized how really lonely she was. And she switched on TV and started watching silly movies and shows, and getting drunk, and kept watching them till the very end, and listened to these damned jingle bells... These were the last sprig of holly which usually breaks reindeer's back. She started crying and cried herself into sleep, missing a quiet knock to the door. As well as the next one. She dizzily woke up when he had already broken into her apartment and shook her calling out her name and calling her names.
'What is your name?' It was the only question she managed to stutter between sobs and sniffs.
'Nick.' He was taken aback.
'I thought I lost you forever, Nick.'
He strained at once: 'Your dog?'
'I don't want you to be my dog anymore.'
'Nor do I. But here we have another question: what do you want me to be for you?'
'Not a dog.'
'Monkey, maybe?' He offered playfully.
'Definitely not, silly.' She whispered. 'And, please, shut up already.'
'Is it an order, master?' He smiled wickedly.
'No. No more masters, no more pets... Please, don't even talk about it in front of me... I was such a fool, I was such a...'
But she didn't have a chance to finish her phrase because he stopped her in the most efficient way.
With a kiss.

***

Sorry for punctuation (especially for punctuation).


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