Her Last
Tags: LGBTQ, Isolation, Short Story, Christmas, Suicide

December had come quicker than she had hoped for, and with it brought on the familiar feelings of dread that she had come to associate with the holiday season. The streets were lined with that nauseating red and green and ‘Christmas cheer’ that only reminded her of just how little she truly had. Christmas wasn’t always like this for her. She used to get blinded by the same childish glee that so many families willingly participate in. She used to love the lie of Santa Claus and a loving home where one could belong. She missed her old, carefree, gullible self that was ignorant to the disintegration of her relationship with her own family. She missed when she used to believe in a parent’s unconditional love. What a load of shit.

Her job always offered to let her have Christmas eve off. Said that she should use it to spend time with loved ones, and she used to, but now there was no one left to love, she supposed. Christmases from her childhood were always filled with joy, toys and presents. On Christmas eve, she would curl up with her parents and brother on the couch with a cup of hot cocoa. They would stay up past her bed time to watch Christmas movies, and essentially just enjoy each others company. It was her favourite thing in the whole world. She would wake up the next morning with the tree stuffed with presents that filled her with glee. Even now, despite it all, she missed it.

The streets were crowded with people, either there for frantic last minute Christmas shopping or just there to enjoy the scenery filled with brightly coloured lights and the streets that were generously decorated in Christmas paraphernalia. She passed many couples, families and friend groups all shamelessly wandering around, completely oblivious to the toxicity of the holiday. It forced her to remember unpleasantries that she’d rather forget. It forced her to remember the moment when she was forced to see reality for how it truly was. It was when she was older, and her brother had asked to invite his girlfriend over to have Christmas with them. Her parents had been delighted to oblige, and she herself had no problem with it. That Christmas was pretty much the same as any other. Her parents were friendly, and so was the new addition to the family. However, a few years later, when she had asked to bring over her own girlfriend, the response from her parents did a complete 180. She was met with outrage and disgust, and was eventually disowned on Christmas eve. It was then that the reality had set in, that Christmas was about maintaining image rather than this so called ‘love’. That everyone was trying to keep up the miserable charade of the ‘ideal happy family’. It disgusted her to think about it, so most of the time she tried not to.

Before she knew it, she was in front of her own doorstep, keys in hand. Hesitation. Her hand wavered slightly before falling back down to her side. She let her keys slip lazily out of her hand onto the floor below, and without giving it a second thought had turned and was making her way to the roof of that shitty old apartment building. It wasn’t a conscious decision. It wasn’t like she had constructed an entire thought that had willed her in this direction. It felt more like, the right thing, she supposed. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. That didn’t matter.

Her footsteps echoed throughout the empty hall way. The sickly sweet sounds of cheer could be heard faintly from some of the doors. Not all of them. She pondered briefly upon those doors that remained silent, despite this supposed joyous holiday. She wondered if the people behind those doors could relate to her isolation. Wondered what would happen if she happen to knock on one. Maybe she’d find the answer that she was yearning for? Unlikely. She kept walking until the horrid creak of a neglected door grounded her into reality.

The chill in the air felt almost nice on her skin. Tiny flakes of snow had began to fall, which managed to get a small smile on her face. Perhaps it would be her last. She approached the balcony and peered over. The brightness and excitement of the city below was bittersweet to her. After all, despite her general distain for Christmas, she had always thought of Christmas lights as beautiful. They reminded her of simpler times, where all she had to worry about was whether she had been naughty or nice. She reached into her pocket with shaky hands and produced her phone. Unlocking it, she searched for a voicemail. Not a recent one, but one that had been saved for years now. It was from an old friend. A friend she held dearly in her heart, yet her feelings were not reciprocated. A friend who would end up leaving her, just as everyone else in her life had. She hadn’t heard from this friend in almost half a decade, yet the sound of their voice still brought her comfort. She hit play and just listened. The contents of the voicemail didn’t necessarily stand out, but just hearing the voice of the one she loved brought her comfort in her final moments. The voicemail continued to play as she climbed shakily and unsteadily over the railing. Despite herself, she laughed. So this was what she truly desired. She wished that she could’ve been surprised, but she wasn’t. This had been a long time coming, after all.

The final line of the voicemail rang out, “Remember Penny, no matter how bad it gets, I’ll always be here for you.”

“Bullshit,” she whispered, before plunging into the Christmas cheer below.