The next morning, she gathered her things.
She looked back and saw the blue blanket on the marble. Since her mother was still fast asleep, she left quietly on her tiptoes so as not to wake her.
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It didn’t really seem like Kate was dead at all.
She rubbed her neck — her stomach ached terribly. Sleeping outside in this freezing cold had been a bad idea anyway. Today was a holiday, so she could rest at Eve’s place.
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She wanted to call Eve, but couldn’t find her phone.
Opening her bag, she searched anxiously, then ran back to see if she’d dropped it — but it seemed to have been stolen.
Of course. She exhaled and looked at the grave, muttering to herself,
“Who would even steal my mother’s blanket?”
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She shrugged and began speaking again.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’ll try to be smarter next time... oh, please stop scolding me. You know this means nothing to me — spending the night here with you was the best thing I’ve done.”
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She laughed softly.
“Ha! Mom, there you go again. You never believed in ghost stories. But I slept right beside you, and believe me, nothing scares me anymore — except maybe attending lectures while my nose runs and Professor James stares at me in disgust, his eyebrows all furrowed.”
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She smiled and turned away.
“Goodbye. Merry Christmas, Mom.”
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She walked through the street, watching the buildings and the stillness around her.
It was four in the morning. Holidays were beautiful — for some reason, there was always a certain magic that wrapped itself around Toronto when the holidays came.
That silence…
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She shrugged, slipped her hands into her pockets, and smiled to herself.
“At least they didn’t steal my laptop. That’s more important, isn’t it? Sorry, Eve — I had to come without calling.”
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After a short walk, she finally reached Eve’s house.
She rang the bell four times — their secret code.
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Eve opened the door a few minutes later, sleep pulling her eyelids down as if gravity had grown stronger.
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Scarlett chuckled lightly.
“I’m sorry for ruining your peaceful sleep, but my phone got stolen… somehow.”
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Eve yawned, half-awake, not really processing what had been said.
She slowly walked back to her bed and buried herself under the blanket, leaving the door open for Scarlett.
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Scarlett stepped in, closed the door behind her, changed her clothes, and went to Eve’s bed.
“I’m sorry, Eve, but you’re not leaving me out there in the cold.”
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Eve groaned. “Just shut up. What’s wrong with you? It’s only five a.m. What brought you here?”
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Scarlett laughed. “I’ll answer later.”
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Eve mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillows, “You’re not going to, are you?”
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Scarlett looked up at the ceiling, smiling.
“Brilliant. Even this early in the morning.”
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Eve nudged her with her foot, annoyed.
“Whatever. At least it’s not something criminal — I’m not the one who’ll have to cover for you.”
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Scarlett smirked. “No, no crimes this time. Don’t panic.”
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Eve hummed something in response and drifted closer to sleep again.
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After a moment of silence, Scarlett watched the snow falling outside Eve’s window.
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She thought to herself:
How cliché of you, Toronto — snow on a holiday morning… Christmas air and all. Strange how I’m not even surprised.
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I always wonder — wouldn’t it have been better if the birth of the Savior had taken place in spring?
Wouldn’t that have been more poetic — when the flowers bloom, and the angels carry the Christ child on the wings of a butterfly to rest upon a white lily?
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But snow, symbolizing purity, is convincing too.
I don’t really know. Perhaps the divine fits under every season.
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If He were born in summer, He would have grown with the crops, ripening under the midday sun, and the feast table would hold whole grains and strawberry shortcake.
And if in autumn, He would have fallen from heaven on a dying orange leaf — to atone for the greedy summer harvest that drained all nourishment from the earth.
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People will always find a way to justify God — because God is everywhere.
Isn’t that right, Mom?
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