Christmas Lites
A Creative Reviews Anthology
Compiled by Amy Eye, Cambria Hebert, and Jenn Pringle
Christmas Lites
Creative Reviews
Copyright Creative Reviews 2011
Published by Creative Reviews Publishing at Smashwords
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Forward
I feel like a proud Momma seeing this book finally complete. It took many people functioning as one for a purpose larger than themselves to put this together. Men and women from all over the globe worked hard, giving up precious time to create the stories you are about to read. This has been an effort in the true spirit of the holidays: give to those less fortunate; provide blessings to those we can; embrace differences in all those around us. While none of the authors in this anthology are superstar authors, we have put our heart and soul into the stories we are sharing with you. I hope you enjoy our diversity and our mirth, our fears and our tears, our love and our dreams that are recorded in the covers of this book.
-Amy Eye
This book isn't about being published. Sure, it’s great and quite the accomplishment but for me, and I think for the group of fantastic authors in this collection, but this book is about coming together. So many people from so many walks of life worked together, not for themselves, but for others. The Creative Reviews group decided we would use what we knew to reach out. From that this book was born. I dedicate this book to the people of NCAVD for doing everything you can to be there giving women and children everywhere a place to turn when there is nowhere else to go. I dedicate this book to the women and children out there that need a warm place to stay or support when their place in life is less secure than it should be. Also, to the armed forces of the United States, to the troops who have been or are currently deployed to other countries so that the war on terror stays out of this country. For the sacrifices that you and your family make daily, for the pay that isn't enough and the hours that never end. When you take off your uniform at night, you know that it doesn't mean you are"off-duty" and that is what truly makes what you do remarkable.
For anyone and everyone out there who do whatever they can—no matter how small—to help someone else, your efforts might not always be acknowledged but they do not go unseen. May the season of Christmas— or whatever holiday you celebrate—stay with you all year long and inspire you to be the difference in someone else's life. Enjoy this compilation of short stories: stories that are as different as the people who came together to make this book, but are compiled out of one similar motivation: hope.
-Cambria Hebert
When we started looking for a charity to donate our time and energy to, out of all the charities that are out there, the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence seemed a worthy choice.
Who would need cheer during the holidays the most?
Victims of domestic violence and their children.
I applaud NCADV for what they stand for and the help they bring to victims that so desperately need it.
I am so honored to be a member of such a wonderful group of people that make up Creative Reviews. The support for this cause has been astounding! From the amazing authors, outstanding editors, formatters, cover artists, and everyone else that has played a role in getting this book out and wanting nothing in return. I couldn't be more proud.
I would also like to thank my own parents for helping both me and my truly wonderful son out of our own little black hole that was our life.
I love you!
Last but certainly not least, I'd like to thank Amy Eye and Cambria Hebert for being such great moderators and even better friends.
This book would not have come to fruition if not for them.
-Jenn Pringle
1. Last Year’s Eggnog – Brett J Talley
2. ‘Tis the Holiday Spirit – Ottilie Weber
3. The Perfect Ornament – Cambria Hebert
4. How I Found My Soul Mate – EC Stilson
5. Face – Mark Faulkner
6. Christmas Disco – Paige Kellerman
7. Sweet Child – Mark Koning
8. The Hunt – Amy Eye
9. An Amy Harkstone Christmas – Mark Mackey
10. The Gateway Incident – Catherine Forbes and Paul Woods
11. Memories of the Splendid Splinter – Richard Phelan
12. Turkey Avenger – EC Stilson
13. Christmas Ghost – Vered Ehsani
14. All I want for Christmas – Angel Armstead
15. Christmas Story – Phil Cantrill
16. Accidentally Gift Wrapped – Tricia Kristufek
17. The Road to Comfort – S. Patrick Pothier
18. Broken Glass – Nicolette Alexandr
19. Blank – Cambria Hebert
20. Only That Day Dawns – Angela Yuriko-Smith
21. The Carpenter’s Wife – Misty Baker
22. Higher Ground – Shane Stilson
23. A Sprig of Holly – JA Clement
24. Star of Christmas – L.A. Wright
25. Whimper – C.S. Splitter
26. The Mirror – Cassie McCown
27. Santa’s Ninja Elf – Lizzy Ford
28. Credits
He wasn't looking for it when he found it: the old tavern with the green gabled roof, slung low over an impressive red door of what he thought was oak. He didn't remember seeing the place before, but as he looked around the snow-covered streets and sputtering lamps, he wasn't exactly sure where he was, or if he had ever really been to this part of town. He had wandered aimlessly down narrow alleys and winding streets from his office in the middle of the city to somewhere beyond, to some bit on the periphery where people like him didn't often go. He probably would have been afraid, most times, to be in a place like this. But it was Christmas Eve and the snow was coming down in torrents, and if there was anyone else on the street he didn't see them. He looked down at the sidewalks. The snow there was unbroken. He was alone.
And he felt very alone that day. The day had started and ended with a fight. One that had begun in the morning and smoldered all afternoon, bursting into flames again when Lizzie called. It is Christmas Eve and it is eight o'clock and you aren’t home. The reasons were always different and yet somehow the same. A different deal, the same paperwork. A different client, the same hours of grinding frustration. Deals that came and went and were forgotten but were, for the few days they lasted, the most important thing in his life. It was the trade-off, he told her, of working at the firm. It was why they could afford a nice condo on Center Hill, just off the park, instead of a cookie-cutter apartment in suburbia. But he knew and she knew that this had never been her dream. That she would have been happier in a place far from here, where it didn't snow so much and the money wasn't as good and life wasn't as exciting, and he would at least be home at eight o'clock on Christmas Eve.
So that's where they left it. With her slamming the phone down, with him not feeling like going home no matter how late it was, with the snow thundering down outside and him wandering aimlessly. Looking for some place, any place, to get a drink. And that's when he found the tavern, with the green low-slung roof and the sturdy red door made of oak. It had no name that he could see, and he really didn't care.
He pulled the door open and stepped inside. There was a rush of warm air in front of him and cold air behind as the two swirled together in a tiny vortex, whipping the hood of his coat up and over his head. As the door slammed shut behind him and his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw that it was a cozy place, smaller than it looked from the outside. He was thankful for the warmth, and it didn't take him long to figure out where it was coming from. A huge fireplace dominated the left side, with giant granite pillars on both sides and brickwork going up to the ceiling. A fire roared within, and there was a plentiful stack of wood set beside. The fireplace had no grate, which Jake found somewhat disturbing. He had always been one to worry about such things. Ironic that it was a fireman's bar, with a thousand different patches from a thousand different cities, decorating the walls and the ceilings and the overhang that covered the top shelf of alcohol. There was a great moose head glowering down from above the fireplace. Jake felt, as he always seemed to do around such things, that its eyes were always upon him, ever watching.
As he looked around, Jake decided this was a good bar. Nothing spectacular, nothing that made it stand out. In fact, the most unusual thing of all was that there was only one other patron. Maybe not too unusual, considering the day. The man looked to be in his twenties, younger than Jake. Dressed in jeans and a cardigan, both of which seemed far too flimsy for the weather outside. He had looked up at Jake as he entered the room. Now he smiled, nodding once.
"Kinda cold out there," he said.
"Yeah," Jake replied. He was not overly interested in small talk.
"Glad you showed up. I was beginning to think no one was coming. It was getting lonely in here."
Something about what the man said was strange. But Jake only really thought about it in the back of his mind, tittering on the edge where such thoughts linger and die.
"Yeah," Jake said, walking towards the bar and taking an empty seat two stools down from the man. There was no bartender, at least none that he could see. Jake pulled out his wallet and waited patiently. The man glanced over at him and snorted out a laugh.
"Here," he said. He lifted himself up and sat on the bar, swinging his legs around and dropping down behind it. Jake was nonplussed. "It's alright. Mike's a friend of mine. But he went off to run some errands. Ran out of something, I don't know. We didn't think anybody else was coming in, so you know. But I'll take care of you. It's no big deal. What do you want?"
"I'll take a whiskey," Jake said finally. Unorthodox or not, the bartender was gone, and he didn't want to wait. The man turned around and picked up a bottle of Makers Mark bourbon from the top shelf.
"That's alright," Jake said, holding up his hand. "Well's fine."
The young man laughed. "Well liquor's bad enough on any day, but downright awful on Christmas Eve. Tell you what, I'll give you this for the same price." Before Jake could say anything else, he'd poured two fingers in the bottom of a low ball-glass, chucked some pieces of ice in it and slid it his way.
"I'm Brian," he said, reaching out a hand.
"Jake."
"Good to meet you, Jake. And what brings you to this fine establishment on this day of days?"
Now Jake smiled. "I could probably ask the same question of you."
"Touché."
Brian swung his legs back over the bar and landed on his stool. "I guess I'm here ‘cause I don't really have anywhere else to go," he said. "This place just feels like home."
Jake was surprised and now intrigued. He looked over at the fresh-shaven man with the neatly trimmed hair, expensive jeans, and Banana Republic Cardigan. He wasn't the type, he thought. He'd known plenty of them. Guys whose lives had never quite taken off like they thought or expected. Guys who grabbed a job out of high school because it paid good money, never realizing that they'd be doing the same job, making the same wage, twenty-five years later. And their wives who loved them twenty-five years ago, when they were young and handsome and maybe a little bit dangerous, but not so much now that they had two other mouths to feed and no money to pay for the bread. So they came to places like this. Places where everybody knew their names. Places where they were still loved, still popular. Places where those things came from the bottom of a bottle. And down they went chasing the past and spending the future, wasting away until they were forgotten.
But if this was one of those men, he certainly didn't look it.
"Don't feel sorry for me," Brian said, reading the thoughts in his mind. "It's not what you think it is."
"Oh, I didn't..."
"No, it's alright," Brian said. "You're right, of course. Why would anybody be in an empty bar on Christmas Eve? Shouldn't everybody be home with their families?"
Jake felt the cut so deftly delivered. "Yeah," he said. "I guess they should."
Brian raised his glass. "Well, here's to us. And Merry Christmas."
Jake sighed. "Merry Christmas."
The both sat there in silence. It took a moment for Jake to recognize the roar of it. It was silent. There was no music on. No television. Jake didn't even hear the snow outside or the pounding of the wind on the glass panes beside the door. There was only the crackling of the fire and the tinkle of the ice as the warmth of the whiskey shattered the rocks into bits.
"You know," Jake finally said. "I never liked Christmas."
"You'll get no argument here," said Brian.
"You know what they say about Christmas? They say it's the most stressful time of the year."
"Um hm."
"I mean, it's not hard to see why. You've got family coming in, who you love but don't necessarily like. You gotta buy everybody gifts, and nobody has money these days. Time. Everybody expects you to be home on Christmas. You know you hear all this stuff—Christmas is supposed to be about giving and love and harmony and peace and friendship but in reality it's just one long, stressful drive to the New Year."
"Well, you know," Brian said, reaching over the bar and grabbing the bottle of Maker's Mark, "there's a reason for that. There's a reason why Christmas is the way it is. No doubt everything you said is true. We make it worse. But you know, there is something about Christmas they never teach you."
"Oh yeah?"
"Let me ask you: what's the scariest day of the year?"
"The scariest day of the year?"
"Yeah, what's the day that's supposed to be, you know, the scariest day of the year?"
"Halloween?"
"Halloween. But it's all marketing, you know?"
Jake looked skeptically at him.
"OK," Brian continued, "what's the most romantic day of the year?"
"Valentine's Day?"
"Right! But nobody really thinks that, do they? What's romantic about February 14th?"
"Nothing?"
"Nothing. It's a manufactured holiday. They just made it up. They picked a day, said that's the day everybody is going to be romantic, and everybody shows up and buys flowers and chocolates and cards. There's nothing romantic about Valentine's Day. It's the day Valentine was martyred…you know, killed. So the day the man died…What's romantic about that?"
"What's this got to do with Halloween? Halloween's different. It's, like, an old holiday."
Brian nodded. "It is an old holiday. Very old. But it's not what people make it out to be. Halloween is all about the souls of the departed, those who have gone on before. A night to remember the ones you've lost, and then celebrate their lives on the day that follows. We are the ones who made Halloween what it is. But I tell you what: the thing is, we made Halloween scary because we can. Because Halloween is not really scary. The scariest day of the year—that's the day we dress in ribbons and bows, wrapping paper and Christmas trees, lit candles and tinsel."
Jake chuckled. "I can honestly say I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Of course you don't. Nobody does. See, here's the thing: everybody hates Christmas. Everybody. The only people that don't hate Christmas are children. And that's because they are innocent. They are innocent and they don't feel it. They don't feel the truth. You know why Christmas is on December 25th?"
Jake thought about it for a second. He knew that it wasn't really about when Jesus was born. Honestly, he never really knew why. But what he did know was that he hadn't been asked this many questions since law school. Whether it was the whiskey or Brian, somehow being here actually made him feel better. "OK, I give. Why do we celebrate Christmas on the 25th?"
"Because," Brian said, leaning in conspiratorially, "what better way to hide the darkest day of the year than to cover it with the most holy?"
"Darkest day?"
"Yeah, both literally and figuratively. There's a reason that people fear the darkness, a reason they always have. The greatest gift man ever received was fire. When God created the earth, he said, ‘Let there be light.’ Oh, there's evil in the darkness, my friend. Both real and figurative. Evil that you cannot see. Evil that cannot live in the light. And what's the darkest day of the year? The longest night? When we sit in darkness, waiting for the sun, wishing for it to come? December 21st, more or less, under the modern calendar. And that's the day the first Christmas was on. The same day that the pagans once lit candles and bound them to trees in the forest to chase away the night. They wanted to push it back, to illuminate the darkness."
The fire crackled and popped behind them. Jake glanced at an ember that had fallen on the floor. But as the glow dimmed to nothing, he looked back at Brian who had never taken his eyes off of him. Then Brian continued.
"And they did a pretty good job. No matter how they actually feel, people believe they are supposed to be happy at Christmas. They tell themselves they are. They sing songs, they light candles, they open presents. They spend time with loved ones and they cook a big Christmas ham. They don’t worry about the night. That's what they tell themselves. But inside they know. The subconscious always knows. Somewhere deep in the back of the brain, somewhere beyond where we normally think and see and feel. It knows the truth. And that's why people are depressed at Christmas. The darkness is upon them. Sometimes the darkness wins. The fact of the matter is there are more suicides and divorces in January than any time of the year. Christmas comes, and it takes the very last bit of life people have. Robs it from them; leaves them helpless.
"And that's the truth they don't teach you at Sunday school," Brian said, taking a deep drink of bourbon. "And if I had to guess, I bet you are feeling a little bit of that darkness now. You know, normally, the longest night of the year is the 21st. But it moves, you know? The calendar is not perfect. The earth wobbles. Rotation's all messed up. And this year, it falls on this...very...night. December 24th. Christmas Eve."
Then something strange happened. The room seemed to grow darker, and somehow even quieter. The fire no longer roared; the ice was silent. But as soon as it came, the moment passed, lifted by the light in Brian's eyes.
"But I say that we should look at things a little differently. That we should not hide from the darkness. That we should not fear it either. People think of the spring as a rebirth, but the first month of the year is January. And after tonight, the night will never be as dark again until one year hence. Every day will be a little bit longer, a little bit brighter. Every day the night will come later, and it will flee from the coming of the sun sooner. What a marvelous thing that is.
"So this is what I propose we do, my friend. I propose we make a pact. After tonight, we are going to have a little bit of that light in our lives. I know you've got somebody waiting at home for you. I know you wouldn't be here if you didn't. And I have a feeling, though I could be wrong, that that person means more to you than any other person in the world. If she didn't, she wouldn't have driven you to drinking in an empty bar on Christmas Eve. But you know, every day's a second chance, and tomorrow's a little bit longer than today. Cheers."
"Cheers," Jake said to the stranger across from him. The peculiar man who seemed to walk through his mind and come out the other side with a most obvious answer that had never seemed obvious before. Jake drank the rest of his bourbon. Not because he needed it, but because he didn't want it to go to waste. He started to pull a ten out of his wallet, but Brian raised his hand.
"No, no, no," he said. "If it hadn't been for you, I would have spent this night alone. So let me get it for you. A gift. On Christmas."
Jake hesitated for only a second. It seemed more wrong to refuse than it did not to pay. So he nodded once. Smiled. Shook Brian's hand. "I'd love to stay…"
"But you gotta go," Brian said. "I understand. Absolutely. Maybe we will meet again sometime."
"Maybe we will. Oh, can you help me out? I don't even know where I am."
"It happens. Walk out the door, take a left. The first street's Main. Take a right and it will take you straight to the park."
"You know, I live on the park and I've never been down here before."
"Sometimes the wind blows people to the places they need to be, when they need to be there."
Jake smiled, genuinely. "Merry Christmas, Brian."
"Merry Christmas, Jake."
Jake stepped outside into a new world. The wind had died and the snow had stopped, and the city had never been so beautiful. The lamplight reflected down upon the fallen snow. It seemed to gather it, amplify it, and reflect it into the world. Pushing back on the darkness Brian spoke of.
Jake walked home in peace that night, home to where Lizzie lay. He stood in the doorway of the bedroom and watched her as she slept. She had been crying. He could tell. She had probably cried herself to sleep.
Jake had never been a particularly sentimental man. He didn't believe that things in life ever came easy. He thought the only way to solve problems was through hard work. So he didn't think that one night of revelation—even if it was Christmas Eve—was going to solve all their problems. Any more than one night had built their years of joy together. But as he slipped into bed beside the woman he loved, Jake did know one thing. This was the last Christmas they would spend in the city. And wherever they went, he would be with her, and that was all that mattered.
The next day, he called the office early and told them he wasn't coming in. It was Christmas, the deal could wait, and nobody on the other side was working, anyway. It surprised him how little resistance he encountered. But he guessed nobody else wanted to work that day, and he wondered how many times it had been his own stubbornness, and not that of others, that had robbed him of so much time.
He spent the day with Lizzie instead. She had been hesitant and uneasy at first but put on a happy face. It was Christmas after all. She needed no mask when he told her the news about the decision he had made. It was the best Christmas he could remember.
As morning wore on to afternoon, he told her he had a friend he needed to go see. A friend he had to thank for some good advice. He wandered into the park, down Main two streets. It was funny that he had wandered so far the night before and yet ended up so close to home. And when, after two streets he took a left, he knew he had reached his destination. It was all the same as the night before. All the same, with one…crucial…difference. There was no bar. Or at least, there wasn't a bar anymore.
Instead, he found a vacant lot where the bar once stood. Vacant, except for the black timbers that filled it, some that had made up a roof still with tinged with green. The only structure that remained was what looked to be the ruins of a great granite fireplace, broken bricks at its foot where they had fallen and shattered. He stood dumbfounded and wondered how it had happened. But there were no fire trucks, no police tape, no smoking embers. In fact, the vast majority of what remained was covered in a foot of snow. He took two steps onto the lot, removed his glove, and reached down, touching a bright red chunk of oak, charred at one end. It was as cold as the ice that surrounded it.
"Hey!" he heard someone say. He jumped with a start and spun around. The man was older, wearing a thick parka that ran all the way down his body. In his hand was a cane."Sorry to bother you, sir. But I don't rightly know what you're doing out there."
"I just…this bar…"
"Was a bar," the other man said. "You must not have been around here lately."
"No. No, I was here last night."
The man raised an eyebrow. "You must be lost. If you'd been here last night, you'd see the same thing you’re seein' now. Such a shame, too. Mike ran a great place. He had insurance, but he was getting up in years and decided not to reopen the place. City'll get around to condemning it sometime, I guess. Clean up the lot."
Jake stared at the man, but he wasn't really listening. "No, you don't understand. I was in this bar last night. Big red door. Granite fire place. A moose."
"Yeah, that's the bar alright," the man said. "But I'm telling you it's been gone for a while. Burned down a year ago."
"On Christmas Eve?"
"Nah," the man said, rubbing his chin. "Earlier than that. The 21st, maybe? Yeah. Terrible shame about the young man though."
"The young man?"
"Yeah, you know, local kid. Home from college for the holiday. He and Mike were close. Really tore Mike up. They don't know exactly how it happened. Mike went out for supplies and when he came back, the place had burnt down. Best guess is some accident with the fireplace and Brian succumbed to the smoke before he could get out…"
"Brian…" Jake whispered.
"Yeah, that was the kid's name. Brian McGuffey. Real smart kid. Everybody loved him. Knew lots of history and trivia and such. He used to tell stories like you wouldn't believe."
Jake looked at the bar. "Maybe I would believe," he whispered. "Maybe I would."
A native of Alabama, Brett Talley received a philosophy and history degree from the University of Alabama before moving to witch-haunted Massachusetts to attend Harvard Law School. Brett is the author of That Which Should Not Be, winner of JournalStone's 2011 novel contest. He has been published several times in the Absent Willow Review, and his short story, "The Substance of Shadow," won the 2011 Absent Willow Review short story contest. Brett likes puppies and dragons and Alabama football. He rarely eats cucumbers.
Last Year’s Eggnog © 2011 Brett Talley
I.
The night sky was heavy with clouds. There was a crisp smell in the air, very distinct—snow. The light and feathery flakes would begin to fall soon. My hands were deep in my coat pockets as I sat on the swing. The park was empty on this December night. Yet I was outside in the cold. I just needed to get out of my house. Christmas was just a couple of days away and my mom was racing around the house like a crazy person to get the house ready for the relatives who were coming.
My knees bent slightly as I rocked back and forth on the swing. Headlights of an occasional car flashed by. I was tired, but couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard I tried. Too much was on my mind and college was not helping. I should have grabbed my hat—my ears were stinging. I loathed the cold. Standing up, I made my way back home, cursing my sister for blocking my car at the top of the driveway. Dad’s car was also blocking my car: he had to keep going back and forth to the food store because he kept forgetting something. Stupid holidays.
With each step I took, I left a long trail of smoke clouds behind me. When I was little, I used to enjoy the puffs of air, pretending that I was a dragon. Tyler and I used to have a lot of fun with that. I kicked a rock across the street to push away the memories as my body slowly quivered from the chills that were taking over my body. I was definitely going to throw on the fleece pajamas when I got home; it wasn’t like I had anyone to impress. Mentally I rummaged through my parents’ food cabinets trying to remember if Mom had stuff for hot chocolate. She had to have mini marshmallows and all. It was a tradition in my family to leave Santa with a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a warm mug of hot chocolate with the small marshmallows.
The cold weather always seemed to make walks feel longer. My teeth started to chatter when I heard footsteps behind me. Part of me just thought I was hearing things. In the middle of my flashbacks, a dog came from behind me, knocking me off my feet and onto the hard ground. The black furry animal had its front paws on my chest so that it could lick my face. Reaching out, I kept trying to push the dog away from me.
"Dumb dog, get off me," I snapped. I normally didn’t have a problem with dogs. I just didn’t want to be tackled.
"Hey, Lucy, get off of her!" a guy’s voice called out as he pulled the dog off of me.
"Don’t you have a leash for that dog?" I barked.
I started to push myself up as he gave me his hand. Ignoring his gesture, I stood up, brushing the dirt off my pants. I came almost eye-to-eye with these brown eyes that quickly glanced down to the animal at his feet. He ruffled the top of the dog’s head while a groan filled the air. This irresponsible guy had a grin that took up his whole face.
"I do, it’s in my pocket, but she isn’t going to go anywhere."
"She just jumped on me," I stated.
"Lucy wanted to play, you just have to loosen up."
I just stared at him. "You don’t know me," I finally responded, narrowing my eyes on him.
"I might not, but dogs are a good judge of character," the guy reasoned, now looking at me; his tone was serious.
"She thought I was uptight, so she jumped on me?"
"What is your problem? It’s the holiday season! Whether Christmas is your thing or Hanukkah or whatever the Pagan holiday is, it’s the time of the year where everything is good, peace on earth, you know—happy time," the guy stated as if I was new to the concept.
"Overrated," I spat as I took a step to walk around him, but he blocked my way. "Dude. Move. I want to go home and out of this damn weather."
"The cold and the waiting snow are part of the atmosphere of the season."
"Screw it, I’m moving to North Carolina the second I graduate college," I answered dryly with a cynical smirk on my face, hoping my jab would poke holes into his happy-go-lucky logic.
"They still celebrate Christmas down there; it’s just more sunny to match their smiles," the guy continued, just as his own face beamed to match his words.
"You’re a pain." The venom was seeping through every word, as this stranger kept me from going home to find warmth.
"I am not a pain. I’m Anthony," he countered with an introduction as he stuck his hand out towards me.
"I’m Eden. Are you normally this friendly to strangers?" I asked as I realized his sociable personality wasn’t going to waver.
"A stranger is just a friend you haven’t met yet," he chanted as the dog nudged his hand for more attention.
"I really don’t remember that part of the lecture. Was that right after ‘don’t get into the white van with the man that has candy’?" I asked dryly.
"Well, of course! If I wanted to do harm to you, I don’t think I would have this lovable creature with me, and I would have done something by now," Anthony’s tone was still light. "You are really guarded. Look, sorry I didn’t mean to offend you. I just can’t understand how someone your age could be such a Grinch during the holiday season," Anthony said as I heard footsteps behind me.
"It’s been a rough five months," I said, still not peeking over at him.
"I’m sorry."
I nearly jumped, as the voice was right beside me.
"You don’t even know what you are sorry for." I did not need pity from someone who I’ve never met before.
"The shadows in your eyes are of a lost one."
I stopped walking. "Look…"
"Don’t give me the ‘you don’t know me’ stuff. I understand, but the lost ones wouldn’t want you to stop living, but rather keep on living for them."
I glanced over at him. "Really you don’t know…"
"How about this? You hang out with me the next couple of days and I bet I can get you back into that happy spirit," Anthony continued after cutting me off yet again.
I stopped walking when I noticed we were standing in front of my house. I was unable to meet the brown orbs once more as mine started to water. Liquid droplets sat on my bottom lid, but I could not bring myself to let this new person see weakness.
"Don’t bother, Ant…"
"Nope, too late! I’ll see you tomorrow!" Anthony took my hand, giving it a light kiss, before wandering off and leaving me standing in my driveway.
Who kissed a girl’s hand these days? I had only met him today yet I could feel the blush from the gesture. Chills ran through my body as the warmth of a blush mixed with the cold air.
"Eden, is that you?" my mom’s voice came from the front door.
"Yeah," I called back, still searching for the shapes of the guy and his dog.
"Get inside before you get sick!"
With a sigh, I trudge up the driveway, weaving between the cars. I headed back into the warmth with my head even foggier then when I had left the house.
II.
The sun shined against my eyelids, causing me to scrunch my face. I refused to admit that it was morning. There were noises and high-pitched talking downstairs as I threw my blanket over my head, trapping all the warmth in my cocoon. I loved my cocoon. Sighing, I snuggled close with my pillow.
"Eden!" Mom screamed from downstairs. "Honey, your friend is down here and so is breakfast!"
What friend? Pushing the sheets off, I dragged my sock covered feet down the stairs, pushing a hand through the tangled, puffy mess that I call ‘my morning hair.’ By the time I was downstairs, my feet weren’t even being picked up with each step. Yet I halted when I entered the kitchen. My mom had a cup of coffee in front of her, her fingers still wrapped around the mug. There was Anthony sitting in my parents’ robin blue kitchen, next to my mom, appearing all too comfortable for my liking in the setting. I truly did not get enough sleep for this.
"Morning, Eden," Anthony greeted, his face full bloom with high spirits.
"Blah," I responded with disgust, my tongue falling out of my mouth like a small child.
"Oh, ignore my Eden. Once she gets coffee into her system, she’ll start cheering up. She has a very charming personality," my Mom spoke with a smile on her face.
I raised an eyebrow at her, wondering when I became a car on the lot to be sold.
"Thanks, Mom," I mumbled as I made my way over to the coffee maker. I poured myself a mug finishing off the pot. Another yawn escaped me.
"So what’s the plan you two have today?" my mom asked.
"I have the day planned out and full of surprises," Anthony answered, glancing over to me.
I raised an eyebrow. "I don’t think I like the sound of that."
"Live a little, it’s going to be fun." The word ‘fun’ was sung, which did not exactly have me sitting on the edge of my seat, even though I wasn’t sitting. "Go get changed. We have to get started on our day!"
"Can’t you go befriend some other stranger? I’m sure you could find someone peppy at the gym."
"No, I am your friend now," Anthony said before Mom could respond to my words.
"Fine. Give me a little bit, then I’ll be ready," I grumbled, sipping my coffee as I stumbled back up the stairs.
Each step was taken with ease and zero rush. Once I was upstairs, I threw on long sleeves and jeans. Attacking my shoulder length hair with a hairbrush, I tied it all back before trudging back down the stairs to meet up with my doom.
"Bye, Mom," I yelled from the front door, hoping Anthony would get the message to come to the front door as I grabbed my coat from the closet.
Anthony bid my Mom farewell as he walked over to where I was. Together we made our way to his car.
"So where are we going?" I asked.
"Don’t worry about it, your chariot awaits," Anthony grinned.
We drove to the mall, and then drove around in the parking lot for what was probably a half hour searching for a spot for his car. With each false spot that was filled with a motorcycle, smart car, or just filled with bad parking jobs, I was ready to strangle someone. The mall was always filled with last minute shoppers; I was fully appreciative of online shopping in moments like this. We stalked a poor departing shopper, slowly creeping along behind her, flashing on the blinker as soon as her lights turned on and then bolting into the spot before another car could. Anthony turned to me, grinning about his victory.
"I still can’t believe it’s two days before Christmas and you brought me to the mall," I spoke, my tone even as I shook my head.
We were crossing the parking lot, my hands hidden deep in my coat pockets. Once we reached the doors, Anthony held one open for me and bent ever so slightly as if in a bow. Heat rose to my face, as I was not sure how to react to such a gesture.
"So I have a present for you," he spoke, his eyes sparkling.
"What?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
He pulled his hand out of his jeans pocket, revealing a candy cane. I smirked.
"Really. A candy cane?"
"Well, you did get in a car with a stranger so I figured candy was needed as you pointed out yesterday," he pointed out as I let out a laugh. "See, I knew there was a smile in there. You should exercise those muscles more; you are gorgeous."
I glanced around to avoid his eyes.
"Aha, speechless! I might actually be working my charm on you!"
"Don’t get cocky," I shot back, but the shape of a smile still had not faded despite my effort to fight the expression.
"Oh, darling, I’m just getting started. I have much magic up these sleeves," Anthony answered as he pushed up his sleeves.
I laughed, shaking my head as I unwrapped part of the candy cane and placed it in my mouth as we came to the end of a line. Peering around the line, my eyes widened as I saw where it led. There at the end of the line was a big jolly man in a red suit in a big chair.
"Okay the candy cane is cute, I’ll give you credit for that. But seriously, you have to bring the fat man into the equation?" I asked as a couple of mothers in front of us turned to glare at us. "Sorry."
"I told you I was going to show you the spirit of the season, and Santa screams holiday spirit for Christmas!"
"I’m not five," was all I could come up with as the little kid a couple of people ahead of us started to cry.
"Now behave or you will get coal in your stocking," Anthony’s voice mimicked sternness, but lacked the feeling.
I wanted to make a comment, but fought the urge. There were the little ears and the motherly eyes around me.
"You should have waited to give me the candy cane," I threw at him as peppermint filled my insides.
"Yeah, I should have, but I was too excited to wait."
"Are you for real?" I asked, as we got closer to the jolly man.
"As real as the fat man," Anthony grinned, giving me a wink.
Taking the candy cane out of my mouth, I crossed my arms, fully aware of the ever-approaching embarrassment. Glancing over at the guy I had met only the day before, I wondered what to expect.
"You sitting on his lap with me?" I asked as the kid in front of us told Santa what he wanted for Christmas.
"If we don’t crush him, absolutely I will sit on his lap with you! I couldn’t ask you to do something that I wouldn’t do myself."
I did a half smile. There weren’t any guys like this at school. Biting my bottom lip, I glanced over at him from the corner of my eyes. He was facing ahead; his features still had a little roundness to soften his face, yet his eyes showed his true years.
"Next!" an elf about my height called over, her face slightly scrunched as her eyes glazed over.
Walking past her, I glanced around as I got closer to Santa, to make sure that Anthony was coming with me. He was. When we got in front of Santa, the elderly man raised a white, long-haired eyebrow.
"I’m on a mission of holiday proportion, Santa. I’m trying to get Eden here into the Christmas spirit," Anthony proclaimed as I stared at him in disbelief.
Anthony was such a weirdo.
Santa smiled as he turned his face towards me. He held out his gloved hand and took hold of mine. The last bit of candy was still in my other hand.
"Lost your way?" Santa’s voice was deep, a slight hint of hoarseness from his age.
"I guess," I answered, my eyes locked onto the pale blue ones before me.
"You are young; getting lost on the path is easy, but part of life is the joy of experiencing the world around you, the good, the bad, and the ugly. The beautiful part of life is what you make out of the experiences," the Jolly Red man spoke as he handed me my second candy cane of the day.
"Thank you," I responded with a weak half smile. "We should probably get going. There is a long line."
He nodded as Anthony and I wondered off in the mall.
"So the big guy helped?" Anthony asked as I threw away the wrapper of the first candy cane.
"Eh," I shrugged as I put the other piece of peppermint into my purse.
"Admit it, he got to you," Anthony pushed my shoulder with his.
A snort of laughter escaped from me, a smirk followed in its graces as I shook my head. "Okay. Maybe a little. He is a pretty iconic symbol. What can I say?" I retorted.
"I thought starting with the basics would be wise."
I looked at him as he grinned.
III.
I poked around the cardboard box that held the royal goodness of chicken fried rice while I sat with Anthony in the back of his car. Anthony was leaning against one back door and I was leaning against the other; the radio played some music. He tossed his head to the side to get the hair out of his eyes. His feet were tapping to the beat.
"Didn’t know Chinese food was part of the Christmas tradition," I started after swallowing a piece of chicken.
"Haven’t you ever seen Christmas Story?" Anthony asked, using a fork to point at me.
"Thank you for leaving out the duck decapitation," I answered dryly.
"Ah, you have seen the movie."
I raised an eyebrow, rolling my eyes. "How could I not have? It’s a holiday classic."
"So you do watch holiday movies," Anthony nodded.
"Um, duh." I continued to eat. "So what exactly are we waiting for?"
He peered over his shoulder. "Well, a little longer. It has to be completely dark."
"Not to sound skeptical, but would you please elaborate more than that? You and I met yesterday, we barely know each other, and you saying you are waiting for it to be dark isn’t helpful," I shot out with narrowed eyes.
"Okay, point made." He lowered his fork. "I was planning on driving around looking at Christmas lights."
"Isn’t that a little like stalking?" I asked.
"No, because we are looking at the shiny things, not at the people behind their curtains," Anthony explained.
"You really have an answer for everything, don’t you?" I asked, not really sure what his response would really be.
"It’s part of that whole Y-chromosome thing; we give the answers to the whys," Anthony responded with a smirk on his face.
I laughed, my head falling back against the glass window. The cold pressed against my scalp. My eyes closed as my body moved with the laughter. "I can’t believe you said that," I barely managed to say between breaths.
Anthony started to laugh himself. "You better believe it, sweetheart," Anthony chuckled.
I wiped the good-humored tears away from under my eyes. "You are such a dork!" I spoke, light amusement filling my words.
"That might be so, but I’m going to make the best out of my life."
"You were one of those boys who use to run around with his tighty whities on his head, weren’t you?" I asked, fully beaming this time.
"Every chance that I got!"
That had me giggling. "The world in ten years might still not be ready for you to reproduce; the thought of multiple you sounds exhausting."
Anthony just grinned. "I’ll just have a mini army of fun. Don’t be bitter."
I rolled my eyes.
"The night sky is ready," Anthony stated as he hopped over the center console to get back into the driver’s seat. I followed suit, making effort to not collapse onto Anthony.
I bounced a little as I fell slightly into my seat. I smirked as I looked over at the grinning Anthony. We headed out into the dark night, Christmas music filling the car. I stared out my window, curious about the colors of lights that he was on a mission to find. He headed into a highly populated suburban neighborhood and began to slow down so that he could see the lights as well. Roofs were trimmed with icicles, trees laced with spirals of tiny light bulbs, and animals such as penguins and reindeer decorated peoples’ lawns. We laughed at the homes where it seemed like the owners just tossed the strands of light on, hoping that they would cover the branches. Home after home was lit, yet each seemed different from the other; some used multicolor while somewhere on a strict white and red color scheme.
"You have to admit it’s going to be fun decorating our own homes one day," Anthony started up.
"Oh definitely. We don’t put too much up anymore, but they are fun," I responded as I stared at a big snow globe on someone’s yard.
"I would love to be able to master the mad skills to time the lights to music."
My eyes widened. "Your neighbors will hate you!"
He was chuckling. "It’ll be a conversation piece against everyone!"
"That’s one way to think of it."
We must have wasted so much of his gas as we drove all over the county. My facial muscles ached from all the laughter as I pointed to reindeer that seemed to have been moved around, or to some people’s holiday signs that were surrounded by large plastic candy canes. As we drew closer, I saw my own house with the large wreath and Santa Workshop on the front yard. He pulled up in front of my house, putting his car into park. I turned to face Anthony as I took my seatbelt off.
"Thank you for today, I really had fun," I spoke in good spirits.
"You are welcome, lovely Eden. Be prepared for tomorrow’s surprise." Anthony took hold of my hand, rubbing his thumb over mine.
"It’s been awhile since I’ve laughed like that."
"What happened?" he asked.
My eyes fell. "I rather not talk about it. I actually had fun. I don’t want to ruin my mood," I spoke with sadness and warning mixed.
"Come on, part of happiness is knowing you can talk about the past even if it is bad."
I started to tug my hand out of Anthony’s.
"Look, I just don’t want to talk about it," I snapped.
"I kind of need to know what I’m dealing with to help you tomorrow. We are short on time…"
I exploded. "My best friend, my boyfriend, died over the summer, okay? We were walking home from a party and some freaking moron thought it would be a good idea to drive drunk. Tyler pushed me out of the way of the car, but he didn’t make it through surgery."
My voice echoed in the small space of his car. Not wanting to hear his pity or happy spin on that, I opened the car door and slammed it in his face. Running up the yard before he even had a chance to redeem himself, I locked myself up in the house, feeling the whole day crumbing before me once more.
IV.
I woke up just in time to watch my family rush out the door, taking my niece and nephew to see Santa. They would actually be able to sit on his knee, unlike me. There was no Anthony sitting at my kitchen table, waiting to start another fun filled day. The house was in total peace as I poured a large bowl of cereal and camped out in front of the television, trying to avoid anything to do with the holidays. I was afraid that if I watched anything seasonal, I might almost feel bad about my harsh words towards Anthony. Shoveling the sugary goodness into my mouth, I attempted to lose myself in the TV, but I couldn’t.
There was no possible way for me to reach Anthony to apologize, and I didn’t know where he lived. I had destroyed a nice day with a surprisingly decent guy. I ate while pondering my words in the car. I welcomed a warm shower, then a pair of jeans and warm sweater. When I was done procrastinating, I started on the to-do list my mom had left for me: wrap some presents and transfer some things from the freezer to the fridge. There was pretty, shiny wrapping paper for the adults and then ones with cartoon characters for the younger ones. The bows were to be color coordinated with whom the presents were for.
By the late afternoon, the family returned with more packages and the two little ones had colored sugar cookies in hand. I helped start dinner as my sister started the movie A Year without a Santa Clause, a movie that we used to watch ourselves when we were small. Between my sister and I, the lines were almost memorized and we mouthed them to each other.
My mom ordered, "Oh, you two, let them enjoy the movie without you spoiling the lines!"
"Yeah, sis." I jabbed my sister with an elbow.
"So where is this boy Mom was talking about?" My sister winked.
I sighed. "You won’t be seeing him again," I mumbled.
Silence filled the kitchen and we focused on making the dinner.
After dinner, the family curled up on the couch; my little niece was in my lap, her head resting on my chest. We had a plate of quickly disappearing cookies. The doorbell rang. My Mom got up to answer the door; I heard her voice and a deep familiar one over the movie.
"Eden, honey, your friend is at the door," my mom called.
Scrunching my face, I walked over to see for myself if she meant the same friend I thought she meant. There stood Anthony, still smiling, but not as grand as yesterday. My Mom left the hall to go join the others, leaving me alone with him.
"Hey," I greeted as I crossed my arms over my chest.
"Sorry about yesterday. Is there any way you could give me a second chance to show you something? Then after that, you will never hear from me again unless you want to."
Standing there for a moment, I just stared into his brown eyes. "I guess. Mom, I’m going out," I shouted as I grabbed my coat to follow him.
Neither of us talked as I got into the passenger seat of his car and I didn’t even know where we were going. His radio was on and we drove in silence. We finally parked when we reached a lake.
"Look, I know I started this spirit thing to cheer you up. Sometimes I just get so excited I go too far, and I’m sorry about that. I can’t imagine being in your shoes. However I wanted to make it up to you and I have a couple of skates in the back of the car."
I didn’t say a word as I took the skates from him. Then we headed to the lake. The trees were all lit up with white and blue Christmas lights wrapped around the tree trunks and branches. Small lanterns were trailing the ice. My mouth fell open as I glanced over at him.
"Did you do this?" was all that I was able to muster up.
Anthony was grinning sheepishly. "Yeah, after the torture that I’ve been putting you through, it was the least that I could do."
"You’ve been crazy, but overall really sweet. I didn’t think people actually did scenes like this."
Anthony chuckled. "Some do."
"Not enough, that’s for sure."
We beamed at each other. I took hold of his hand, interlacing our fingers as we glided onto the ice.
"Merry Christmas, Anthony."
"Merry Christmas, Eden."
Ottilie Weber grew up along the shores of Jersey and continues to lives there. She is currently attending the College of New Jersey, all the while writing tales that are begging to be told. Ottilie has published two Young Adult thrillers, End of the Line and Family Ties. With the support of her family and friends, she's living life and working on her next heart-warming story.
‘Tis the Holiday Spirit © 2011 Ottilie Weber
It’s Christmas time again. The carols fill the house and the children sit making mile long lists of toys they hope Santa will bring. The scent of pine mingles with the scent of cinnamon and a warm fire burns brightly in the hearth.
It’s everyone’s favorite time of year. A gathering of friends and family, laughter and love. In fact, right now, Mother is in the kitchen preparing goodies for the annual Christmas Eve party. There is a whole pot of rich hot chocolate with peppermint sticks for stirring, there’s a huge bowl of eggnog and a tray of cheese and crackers. There’s roast chicken and potatoes, cranberry sauce and warm crusty rolls…
Yes, this will be a meal to be savored.
But there is one thing that will NOT be at dinner this evening and that’s me.
That’s right, I’m breaking out.
Sure, they all might get upset when the star of the show isn’t here but that’s just too bad. I mean, really, how much can one self-respecting gingerbread man take?
How many times do I have to be eaten to know the end is near?
Well not this year. This year I’m taking a stand. Don’t gingerbread men have equal rights? Can’t we enjoy the Christmas season without losing an arm, an eye, and a leg? Sure, I’m full of sugar and spice, and sure, I am one tasty treat, but I’m not the only cookie around here.