Dasher and Merry

Dasher and Merry grew up on opposite sides of the same, small town.  Dasher worked on his parents’ Christmas tree farm from the day he could walk on his own, and was set the inherit the business when his father retired.  They weren’t rich, but they were comfortable - and more importantly, happy.  Merry, on the other hand, had grown up quite wealthy.  Her mother was a tax preparer - the only one in town.  She was well-known and respected, but also feared.  After all, not many people want to cross the person responsible for their money.  Merry’s father was a lawyer, who left his family when Merry was quite young.  Of course, he still sent his monthly checks, and paid for the very expensive private school Merry would attend in the next town over.

They first met in Merry’s living room, waiting for their parents to complete their business in the large, gothic office behind curtained French doors.  Dasher wanted to squirm out of his skin sitting in the center of a house that could have easily fit three of his own inside.  Merry eyed him skeptically, wondering why the poor farmers had brought their poor little farm boy with them.

Then Merry’s dog, Bruno, appeared, shattering the tension with one comically loud fart.  Friendship between the two children after a shared experience like that was inevitable.  This was before Dasher was bestowed the name ‘Dasher’ by his friends who thought there was nothing sillier than making a living by selling Christmas trees.  In those days, Merry knew him only as Andy.

The kids lost touch in high school, where Dasher graduated by the skin of his teeth and Merry participated in every extracurricular she could.  Merry was accepted to all but one of the Ivys she applied to - she’ll never tell which one rejected her - and Dasher idly considered the idea of going to college.  In the end, Merry left town to pursue her education, while Dasher opted for an Associates degree in business, to help support his family’s ventures. 

They would see each other around, occasionally.  Merry and her mother always attended the Christmas market in town, and Dasher would inevitably exchange a few awkward words with the increasingly beautiful girl from his childhood.  If she noticed his crush, she never mentioned it.  Though, if pressed, she would have admitted he’d grown quite handsome as his proportions changed from that of a lanky preteen to a lean, muscular farmer.  Those thoughts were quickly driven from both their minds as high school graduation passed.  Their feet were planted firmly on diverging paths.

Merry opted to attend graduate school right out of undergrad, on her quest to follow in her daddy’s laywer footsteps.  Her visits home became less and less frequent.  Dasher worked along side his family without complaint.

Ten years had passed since Merry and Dasher had any sort of meaningful interaction.  Neither one had really pursued romance.  Merry did have an on-again off-again relationship with another young attorney at her firm - which was wildly against the rules as well as her better judgement.  Dasher’s one true love was his family, followed closely by his work.  Both were happy - so it seemed.

Then came the new year, and with it, wild change.  Merry had managed to “make time” for a visit home.  She’d grown quite tired of these guilt-ridden trips to see her aging mother and the sad little town she’d grown up in, but despite everything, she loved her mom.  That particular visit, her mom hadn’t bothered to buy a Christmas tree. Certainly not the end of the world, Merry supposed, and no comment was made.  It wasn’t until December 30th, when Merry’s mother thrust a simple black dress at her, that she began to put the pieces together.

They attended the memorial service for Dasher’s father that afternoon.  It was strange to be surrounded by so many faces she’s grown up with and only vaguely recognized, all picking quietly from an enormous buffet.  Beer was served - so very much beer.  Dasher was hailed as the spiting image of his late father, as the new king of Christmas, as the young man who would take care of his mother.  The despair on his face was enough to split Merry’s heart in two.

He rushed towards the bathroom as soon as he could divert the townsfolks’ attention.  Merry intercepted him.  After a moment of recognition, she wrapped her arms around him.  He cried into her shoulder on the floor of the men’s room for longer than he would ever admit.

This time, when Merry went away, they kept in touch.  After that terrible night at his father’s memorial, Dasher hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. And, it seemed, she felt the same.  It turned out, sobbing on an old friend you hadn’t seen in years eliminated the need for awkward ‘jeez, it’s been a while’ smalltalk. 

Still, it was a bit strange at first.  Merry lived hours away, so their only communication was by phone.  Just texting, at first, but some nights when his grief threatened to overwhelm him, Merry would call him, and he’d set the phone by his ear and let the gentleness of her voice soothe him.  It didn’t matter if she was talking about work or life or family - or even her good-for-nothing fling.  It helped, and that was all either of them cared about.

This continued through the end of Winter, then Spring, and well into the Summer.  At some point, Merry’s sort-of-boyfriend grew tired of their late night phonecalls, and ended things for good. Merry didn’t mind.  She had more important things to focus on.  Like work. Like family.  Like Dasher.  By the Fall, they were telling one another they loved each other.  Not necessarily in a romantic way, just in a way. They had a good thing.  Why complicate it?