much pain. I go to hang up my dressing gown on the back of the bathroom door when I hear the sound of Elton John’s ‘I’m Still Standing’.
For a moment I don’t know what to do. I haven’t listened to break-up songs, because it feels like I don’t deserve them. My fear over not being stronger since Scott left and the fact that I’ve allowed my situation to get me down, made me feel like a fraud. And forget about the sad ones – knowing I wasn’t the only one in Scott’s life, that I wasn’t enough? Well, those sad songs rendered me crushed and humiliated.
I pause at the bathroom door at the sound of Elton’s voice, mixed with the softer melodies of Madi’s voice, and catch her wielding a hairbrush, twirling around the room singing along. Without warning, laughter bursts out of me as I watch her swinging hips. The beat of the song reverberates off the walls. She spots me and throws me the can of hairspray. The chorus kicks in at the same time as my adrenaline takes over. Memories of dancing with my parents when I was a kid at all the festivals come flooding back, loosening my limbs. Gripping on to my make-believe microphone I join in Madi’s impromptu karaoke and let Elton’s words revive my spirit.
*
My dad was right. We’ve walked a stone’s throw from the house and are currently contemplating which direction to take. One way looks to be nothing but forest, the most glorious trees that made visions of Snow White dance in my brain; the animals that we might come across, the trees that told stories in their bark. To the left stands gingerbread house after gingerbread house. If we go that way, I feel we will be gone for days exploring every minute detail of each garland and decoration that adorned each house. The path straight ahead bears no immediate destination, just a road that gleams with slippery snow and ice. In the distance, through the misty fog, there is a faint outline of mountains.
The cold air hits my face and I wave my arms out to the sides of my puffer coat. I feel like I am the leading lady in one of my holiday rom-coms, the world in front of me for the taking. A choice awaits me. For a moment I feel a shot of adrenaline course through me. There is beauty everywhere I look, and I want to run in all the directions, but I don’t quite feel courageous enough and fear takes over the adrenaline abruptly. I look over to Madi, whose blue eyes are gazing somewhere far away. We tend to share the same dazed look when stories and plots are zipping through our minds. She’s grinning broadly with her hands on her hips. I try to dispel my fear to appreciate this moment with her and take it all in.
‘Which way?’ I shout. My lips are buried behind my woolly purple scarf.
‘I have no idea,’ Madi shouts back, then she takes my hand and laughs. ‘How about we take the path that looks to lead to the unknown? It seems like the more adventurous and dangerous option.’ She wiggles her eyebrows at me, then hooks her arm through mine as we begin to walk up the treacherous path straight ahead.
‘You forgot to add terrifying?’ I say, raising my eyebrows at her, catching the double meaning behind her choice of words: the unknown path and the adventure. I know that, good or bad, what lies before me is going to be an adventure. I grew up with parents who believed the universe had plans for us and that we just had to trust it. I just hadn’t accounted for those plans to include divorce and my heart feeling like it was in a million pieces.
Quite frankly, I am petrified of what is lurking in the unknown. But the less I think about that now, the better. I put one foot in front of the other and focus on the golden sun reflecting off the snow, causing rainbows to dance in the trodden-down snow that has turned to ice. If I don’t quite trust the universe yet, one thing I know is that I trust Madi. I follow her lead and we walk in a calm and comfortable silence for what I feel is coming up to a mile.
I’m taking in as much of the surroundings as I can, but my head is down much of the time as I shield my face from the frosty breeze and do my best not to fall.
When I do look up, I feel as though I have walked through a portal that has transported us to The North Pole. Then I remember how my mother described Main Street at this time of year. It is like London’s Winter Wonderland but the decorations, the atmosphere and the aromatic smells are multiplied by a thousand. The old-town-USA-style shops resemble nothing short of Santa’s grotto. Each one bears unique tinsel, ornaments and magical window displays. The streetlamps are wearing candy cane stripes and the further we walk into the square, the more stalls we see selling everything from homemade fudge and chocolates, to homemade soaps and jewellery. Off to one side they have a Santa station and right before my eyes …
‘Are those real reindeer?’ Madi gasps. Her mouth opens wide.
‘I’m going to say yes,’ I reply, unable to take my eyes off Santa’s pack animals. They are beautiful; their fur is shining as they make soft grunting sounds as the children put their palms out to feed them.
‘This place is amazing,’ Madi gushes as we begin to move again. I can sense Madi is walking towards the smell of whatever is floating up in the air that is making me drool. I can smell fried potatoes and tomatoes and hear sizzling coming from a giant pan. Then cinnamon hits me in a wave of sweet pleasure. I will be happy if the only decision I must make today is savoury or sweet or, more realistically, which to eat first.
The stalls are catching my gaze, but my stomach is following Madi, letting my brain know that food will be sourced and eaten first and then it can divulge in its creative need.
We find a stall that is serving pancakes and I can see Madi’s eyes bulge as she stops before it, her eyes wandering over the menu. I know full well that she wants to order everything. I surprise myself having already made my decision that I want the pancakes with fried peaches. They smell heavenly. I watch Madi and then turn my attention to the man behind the counter. I give him a small smile to apologize for the hold-up, but he seems happy to study Madi and give her all the time she needs. He has a kind face when he nods at me to acknowledge my smile. His hair is blonde, his eyes are hazel, and his features are warm. He returns to preparing food.
Madi’s thorough read of the menu is something I’m used to so patience isn’t a problem as I am enjoying observing the scenes around me. I am fascinated by people-watching and have been from a young age. My parents always had the most interesting people round to our house when I was growing up from doctors, to gardeners, to struggling artists and teachers. I loved watching them interact with one another. My parents welcome everyone. It’s not surprising really that I started writing stories and scripts in my head, imagining the exotic lives that these people led. But it was the love and passion that burned in the eyes of my parents and all those who visited that captivated me most, be it the love they had for each other or the love they had for their work and the world around them. It’s no wonder I became a fan of Pegasus Entertainment.
The man finishes serving a lady in front of us and then leans casually against the wooden wall frame. He catches me watching him and gives me a confident nod. Madi looks over at me and follows my line of vision to the man and chuckles.
‘I am so so sorry,’ she says, waving her hands around. ‘Sorry for holding you up, everything just sounds so good. Right, I know what I’m having,’ she says, standing tall and pushing her shoulders back. Her cheeks are flushed red from our cold walk and her red lips are glistening with the morning dew. She looks beautiful. I step forward and wrap my arms around her shoulders. I love Madi and I love her confidence.
‘No need for apologies, what can I get you …?’ The man sticks out his hand and raises his eyebrows, searching for our names. His cheeks are flushed pink and my heart tugs a little at his kindness.
‘I’m Madi and this is Harper,’ Madi says, reaching out to shake his hand.
‘I’m Colt, it’s nice to meet you both.’
‘It’s
