I was expecting things would improve after James's visit, that James and I would pick up where we left off with our workouts. And we would continue to have game nights. But the truth was I didn't see him again for three more days when he came in to drop off more food.

I was sitting at the kitchen nook. "Hi," I offered as he walked into the kitchen.

"Hi," James replied drily. He placed the two bags on the counter and began to exit.

"Wait!" I jumped off of the stool and hurried to the door.

"Please, James, talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Well, is this the way it's going to be?" My voice cracked, and I fought back the tears.

"It's a little late to be worried about that, don't you think?"

"I can't say how sorry I am. Please, I'm begging for another chance. I'll do anything."

"Then stop begging." He walked out.

"I'm sorry!" I yelled at a slammed door.

I could see how prisoners went crazy while in solitary confinement. Humans were not meant to be alone.

* * *

It had been three weeks since the attempt escape, about four weeks since Thanksgiving. All I ever saw of James was when he brought me more food. Every two or three days. I didn't attempt to make any more conversations with him, though. I figured I didn't need to borrow any more trouble than I already had. And if James was going to forgive me, he'd have to do it in his own sweet time. Very slow time.

Christmas was lurking right around the corner. Every time I thought about it, my stomach ached for all the holiday could've been had I not thrown it all away. Christmas was all about family.

Christmas Eve came and went, and James didn't come upstairs. There was no Christmas tree, no presents, no Christmas cookies. Santa would not be visiting me this year. And it was all my fault.

I awoke Christmas Day like it was any other day. No TV, books, music, or any other entertainment. I filled the day as best I could—cleaning, working out (I had hoped James could hear it downstairs and would think of me kindly), and meditating. It wasn't really a formal meditation, as I didn't know how it worked exactly, but I tried to go to my "happy place," where I could escape from this nightmare. I also did a lot of sleeping and hoped for no nightmares.

I wondered what my dad was doing for Christmas. Since the year my mom had passed, we traveled to my aunt and uncle's house an hour away. I really hoped he was going on with his life and able to enjoy the holiday, even though I knew he probably wasn't. I wished he could let me go, wished he knew I was alive. Maybe the lady he was dating (what was her name?) was able to console him and keep him company in my absence. Maybe he hardly thought of me anymore.

In the afternoon, I was vacuuming the family room when I saw the door open, and James walked in with grocery bags of food and a smile on his face. I turned off the vacuum.

"Wh-What's going on?"

"It's Christmas, isn't it?" he said.

I stood there, my mouth agape.

"I thought maybe you'd want some company."

I cried into my hands, realizing this meant James was finally giving me another chance. I collapsed onto the couch, the gratification overflowing me. He walked over to me.

"Now, listen," he said, holding onto my shoulders, "this doesn't mean you're in the clear. It's only because I didn't want you to spend Christmas alone, understand?"

I nodded my head, unable to stop crying. James gently rubbed my back, consoling me, until I calmed down. His touch felt so foreign and awkward, yet I didn't want him to stop, either.

The "feast" we made was very small. In fact, most of it was premade traditional food James bought from the store—turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes. We made some extras—a fruit salad and green salad. But it was delicious, better than anything I had ever tasted; at least I imagined it to be. All I cared about was I wasn't alone.

Although we were celebrating Jesus, as James's prayer focused on, I felt the holiday celebration was still somber. I was very grateful for anything he gave me, but things definitely were not the same. The conversation wasn't flowing or as jovial as it used to be. He didn't make much eye contact with me or talk much. It was almost as if he was just going through the motions. Or I wasn't there. Regardless, I was appreciative of any bone he threw my way.

As the night drew to a close and we cleaned up the dishes, we were quiet and absorbed in our own thoughts. I turned around from the sink and faced James.

"Listen, I just want to tell you how grateful I am for this night. I know I'm still in a lot of trouble, but . . . this was so generous of you. I'll never forget it. Thank you." My voice cracked under the weight of the moment.

I turned back around and continued rinsing dishes. He didn't say anything. For a moment I regretted talking at all.

Suddenly I felt James come behind me and wrap his warm arms around my stomach, embracing me like I had never felt from him before. It was the affirmation I needed. I turned around and returned the embrace. It felt like I was finally home.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. I didn't know if he heard me, but it felt good to say it. He stroked my hair as I cried.

That night was the first time I had slept well since the attempted escape. For the first time, I was given a piece of hope.

* * *

I was disappointed when the next day was the same as the days before—no James. I tried to keep myself busy so I wouldn't obsess about my disappointment. Maybe he had drunk too much the night before and regretted reconnecting. Yet, he did make it clear that I wasn't off the hook. He just didn't want me to spend Christmas alone. Luckily, I had a lot to clean up, so it kept me busy some of the day.

James didn't come up again until three days after Christmas. He was bringing some more food. I tried to be really casual, as if nothing had changed. But I was absolutely heartbroken. He was nice enough to me, not like before where he hardly spoke. He helped me put away my groceries, which he didn't do before.

"So, how is everything?" I tried to ask nonchalantly.

"Fine, just fine."

"Great, good to hear."

An awkward silence filled the air between us.

"How's work going?"

"Great. I have the week off," James said simply.

I felt another tinge of disappointment. That meant he had this extra time off but didn't see me.

"Uh, you know, I had a really good time the other night," I offered. "Thanks again for coming up."

"Yeah, I had a good time, too."

He stopped putting away the groceries and looked off into the family room.

"Listen, Corrine, I don't want you to get the wrong impression."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the other night was great and all. But things still aren't okay with us."

"Oh, yeah. You're still mad at me. I understand."

"It's just that things take time. And I don't want you to get the impression things are back to normal just because of Christmas."

"OK," I said, deflated. "I'm just happy you gave me that night. Thanks."

I held back the tears. But I couldn't mask the disappointment in my voice. He hugged me in consolation.

"If you're up to it, though, how about a low-key New Year's Eve thing?"

"Really?" I beamed. "Are you kidding?"

"Nope, I want to."

"Then so do I. Definitely!"



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