37. Love and Molasses

37

LOVE AND MOLASSES

QUINN

184 DAYS 'TIL CHRISTMAS

As of today, Patrick and I have been married for one year.

A full revolution.

Though, in earnest, it feels like a million tiny revolutions. My head grows woozy when I consider all the spinning we've done. We've held up a million revolving plates of responsibility, while orbiting one another so as not to collide.

The North Pole has, if you were looking at our life through the lens of a camera, refocused the frame. Stillness, unimaginable back in New Jersey, has cushioned around us.

I'm standing in my closet, debating what to wear to the Annual Gingerbread House Competition. But it's what's happening after the competition that I'm most excited about.

I didn't see Patrick before he left for the workshop today, which is a good thing because I was afraid that he might read the surprise I have in store for him written all over my face. Weeks of planning would've been wasted had I spoiled it.

On the hook on the back of my closet door hangs the brown suit with the gumdrop buttons. I still want to wear it, but something about it doesn't sit right anymore. A voice in my head screams that it's the pleated, fitted pants. Fashionable but somehow wrong. At least that's how they felt on my body when I tried them on in front of the full-length mirror a few minutes ago. I let out a sigh of frustration.

I'm reminded of Mick and how their unique style was applauded by the audience at the Elf Extravaganza. How Patrick's eyes lit up when he saw me in Christa's jumpsuit. I get an idea.

In the back corner of the closet, the elves left behind an antique vanity with a pouf in front of it. Over the last several weeks, I've spent many mornings sitting here, doing my hair or applying moisturizer, and my hands always itch to rummage around in the jewelry boxes I found on one of our first days here.

A sneakiness invades my body as I give in to the temptation. While the North Pole has begun to feel like home, the chalet still feels temporary. I'm comfortable here, but nothing about this space is uniquely mine.

Which is why, as I open the square, red velvet box with the difficult hinges, I feel like a thief enacting a heist. Inside, there is the world's most beautiful pearl necklace. Real pearls that bring real tears to my eyes.

I clasp them around my neck. In the reflection of the mirror, I like what I see.

Without taking them off, I go riffling through the few femme pieces of clothing the elves missed when they came to overhaul the closet. There are, of course, the sleep dresses that I asked to keep because I've grown fond of wearing them, but there's also a series of classic Mrs. Claus looks that I think they wanted to preserve without knowing where to store them, obviously for whoever takes over my position next year.

I'm reminded, once more, that this position and this place are both short-term. That's what Patrick and I agreed upon when we left New Jersey. The council made clear that we had no obligation to them beyond this Christmas.

While our first year of marriage may have been rocky, our experiences here at the North Pole have been anything but. Perhaps what Colleen and Yvonne had said at the original wardrobe fitting was true. Our marriage needed this life vacation to reset itself, so we can take what we've learned here, pack it in our suitcases, and bring it home with us.

Thinking back on that original fitting has me walking toward the front of the closet again with a knee-length red skirt in hand. The vibrant color matches the hue of the gumdrop buttons on the shirt, and the white accent around the bottom hem complements the white frosting details on the jacket.

Tossing the pants to the side, I outfit myself in this new combination, adding in a pair of thick brown tights beneath the skirt. I step into the bedroom to see myself in the full-length mirror.

Again, I like what I see.

I like it because I see me.

The elves here have been accepting of me and Patrick since day one. There's no reason I should edit my self-expression for the sake of palatability.

I embraced my masculinity out on the field at the Tundra Dome. I'll embrace my femininity for this gingerbread event. Both of those traits live inside of me, and both, just like our wedding anniversary, deserve to be celebrated.

Before I leave the chalet, I find sparkly nail polish in the bathroom and give myself a marvelous manicure to match.