How Nick and Holly Wrecked...Saved Christmas

by Carla Rossi

  He jerks on my door until it comes open. “I can drive.”

  The truck is slow to warm up as Nick adjusts the vents. Both our phones are about to burst into flames with activity.

  “Aw, man,” he says. “Ricky didn’t get out.”

  “It’s his house. I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to get out.”

  “His parents are gonna freak.”

  “No doubt.”

  “I’m sorry about Starbucks, Holly.”

  I see on my phone it’s way past closing time. “Whatever, Nick. It doesn’t matter.”

  Notifications start popping on my phone faster than the machine at the old folks’ home pops corn. Kayla has tagged me with Nick at the must-attend party of the season, and Amanda has consequently seen this and had a stroke.

  What is happening down there????????????

  I text back: Christmas is definitely and irrevocably wrecked. Call you when I get to Granny’s.

  She replies: Peeing. My. Pants.

  Day Three—Karaoke is Evil and Must Be Destroyed.

  “Sorry,” Granny says. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

  This is followed by another bump, crash, and thump.

  I groan but don’t open my eyes. “S’okay. What are you doing?”

  “I need my Christmas reindeer antlers for karaoke tonight. Thought maybe they were in this closet. Can’t find anything in this mess. If I’d known it would be such a chore, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

  “Give me a minute to wake up and I’ll help you.”

  “Stay put. Don’t want a hat box falling out of here and banging up that nose again.”

  No... We don’t want that.

  I sit up and stretch. Granny has the whole closet nearly emptied into the room. Curiously, there’s a cat tree standing at the foot of my bed with a litter box perched on top. It’s exploding with cat toys. I can see the edge of the pet play-pen, collapsed and leaning against the door.

  The debate my mother and I have been having about Granny’s Christmas gift is now clearly answered. I think she’s ready to love again. My mom thinks Granny doesn’t need the burden of a kitten. The evidence was here all the time if I’d only bothered to hang my coat in that closet.

  “Are those all Pierre’s things?”

  “Oui. I need to tote all this downstairs and have someone drop it at the shelter.”

  But even as she’s saying this, she’s putting the things away. It couldn’t be clearer.

  “I miss Pierre, too.”

  “Ah-ha! I think this is it.” She pulls out a large square box with pictures of Christmas angels all over it. “It is,” she says and pushes tissue paper aside. “I needed to find this box a week ago. It has all my Christmas costume jewelry in it.”

  “Good,” I say as she pulls out several scary pairs of earrings. “Nothing says ‘Jesus is born’ like that light-up Christmas tree hat. Nice.”

  “You can wear this.” She hands me a red velvet headband with a protruding red star on top that reads ‘naughty or nice’. It’s outlined with sparkling silver sequins.

  “Pass.”

  “Oh, all right,” she says and snatches it back. “Let me ask you something. What do you think of Jake?”

  “My mom’s boyfriend Jake?”

  “Yes, of course, who else?”

  “He’s a nice guy, I guess. He’s there all the time. She seems happy. Why?”

  “I have a good feeling about him. He might be the one for her.”

  I don’t think much about my mother finding ‘the one’. “He has been around longer than most. And he does seem to be able to handle her brand of cray-cray. Why? Did they say something to you?”

  “No, but I do think it’s time your mother settled down.”

  We look at each other and then have a good laugh.

  “You’d think she would have settled down with my dad when she got pregnant, but leave it to my mom to do everything backwards.”

  “I take responsibility for some of that, cheri. I was not a good example for your mother. Your grandfather left when your mother was young. It was my fault. I was not a good wife. I made a lot of mistakes.”

  I don’t want to hear this. My granny is my granny. And ewww. I don’t understand the other stuff. Not sure I want to hear ugly things about the past.

  “What are we talking about, Granny?”

  “Oh, don’t make that worried frowny face, cheri, it’ll stick that way. All I’m saying is that your mother has been a better mother than I was. She’s taught you well and raised you in church and our bad romantic history will not repeat itself in you. As for Jake, your mother may have finally found her happiness. If I’m right about this, she’ll need your support.”

  “Yes,” I agree, but I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to.

  “And,” Granny adds, “I think they are using this time away to discuss their relationship. That’s a good thing. It’s poor timing he would win that trip in the last quarter of the year, but hey, when was the last time your mom had a vacation?”

  Not that I can remember.

  I think of Jake over the last eight months. He rubs mom’s feet on Friday nights after a long week of work, and slept over on the couch every night she had the flu so he could help out around the house and take me to school. No boyfriend has ever done that.

  Granny pushes things back into the closet. “Karaoke tonight is going to be fun.”

  Karaoke is evil and very much not fun, but I wouldn’t burst Granny’s red and green glitter bubble for anything. “I’ll be ready.”

  “It starts around six. Are you sure you don’t want to wear a Christmas headband?”

  “Totally sure.”

  ****

  Granny and I enter the rec room at ten after six. She is wearing black slacks and a red Christmas sweater—and a reindeer headband with tiny ornaments dangling from the bouncing attached antlers. The sadder news? It’s not the only one in the room.

  I’ve squeezed into a black skirt, tights, a purple sweater and silver-ish ballet flats. If I’d known about dancing and singing and Nick, I would’ve thought more about what I tossed into my bag.

  The space is dim with a large punch bowl and clear plastic cups on a long counter. Festive music thumps out of the vintage speakers on either side of the room. Groups of tables and chairs sit randomly in front of a small platform and the floor is dotted with portable spotlights to showcase brave singers.

  Nick’s been busy.

  Tanya breezes by with a tray of cupcakes. “Holly. It’s great to see you.”

  “Hi. Everything looks good.”

  “Thanks. Nick’s been working on the sound system all day. I hope it’s up to your standards.”

  My stomach turns. “I hope I can squeak out a song.”

  “You’ll be great. Can you come down tomorrow and help decorate for the dance?”

  “Sure. Can I do anything now?”

  “Nope. We’re ready.”

  But where’s Nick?

  I sit with Granny and slowly chip the glitter polish off my nails while she chats with her friends. I get more nervous by the minute.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” I announce, and all her smiling friends chatter about me as I go.

  I slap on a fresh coat of lip gloss and dab more powder under my eyes. Breathe... Breathe... Forget about Nick... Remember Christmas... I wipe away tiny stray flecks from my sparkly eye shadow.

  “Here goes nothin’,” I say to the still slightly black-eyed girl in the mirror. “Here goes nothin’.”

  As I leave the bathroom, I see Nick. He is standing at the back of the room looking all cute in his jeans and blue plaid flannel shirt and holding a carrier full of coffee cups from Starbucks.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Hey.”

  “These are for you. I didn’t know what kind you wanted so I got four different ones.”

  I laugh. “Thanks, Nick, but that Starbucks is forty-five minutes away.”

  “I felt bad about last night
. You didn’t get your coffee.”

  “It’s only coffee,” I say and try to look uninterested though I’m sniffing each one.

  He shuffles his feet and shoves one hand in his pocket as I set the tray on the counter and try to decide which to drink first.

  “You still mad at me?”

  “I wasn’t mad at you. It was a crazy night, that’s all.” I take a sip of coffee. Oh, how I’ve missed you... “If anything, it’s made my week a whole lot more interesting.”

  “How so?”

  “My Twitter and Facebook has seen more action in twenty-four hours than it has all year.”

  “I saw that. You’re a hero because of that text.”

  “Yes. It’s always what I’ve wanted to be known for. Thanks for the coffee, but you know I can’t drink all this. Mind if I share?”

  “It’s your coffee. Hey, can you help with the sign-up sheet tonight?”

  “Sure. Is there a catalog of available songs?”

  “Tanya made a list and copied it.”

  “OK. And I need to ask you... Do you think you’ll be going out for anything tomorrow?”

  “Probably. What’s up?”

  “Granny’s Christmas present. I need to go by the animal shelter and take a look. I browsed the available kittens online, but I need to get over there and see what they have.”

  “Christmas shopping at the pound. I like it.”

  “I’ll explain later. They’re closing early this week so—”

  “Text me tomorrow when you’re ready. Do you have your songs picked out? Tanya says karaoke is cut-throat around here and there’s no repeating songs. You better get that sign-up sheet and put down what you want.”

  My heart skips a beat. “Maybe I should pass. I sound pretty gross, and it’s not like I can breathe properly.”

  “You can’t pass. Everyone is waiting to hear you sing.”

  “That’s not helping, Nick.”

  “You are the one person in this room who really can sing. Remember what you told me?”

  Tanya passes with a vegetable tray. “Five minutes, Nick. Where did this Starbucks come from?”

  “Help yourself.”

  “Shut the front door!”

  “Seriously,” I say and laugh. “Nick brought them.”

  “Thanks, Nick.”

  “You made her night,” Nick says.

  “You made her night. You brought the coffee.”

  “You’re not off the hook,” Nick says as we make our way to the stage. “You have to sing. It’s in the Bible.”

  “Since when?”

  “That parable thing you mentioned. You said it made you sing.”

  Now I’m obligated to explain this to Nick. Not that I mind, but the timing of these opportunities to share the Word of God is never what I think it should be. Like the time Miranda Dinwiddie thought she was dying in the next bathroom stall at school because she had a stomach thing and embarrassed herself in Chemistry. She’d been barricaded there for three periods insisting God was punishing her until I happened into the toilet next door and tried to explain that’s not how it works.

  “OK, listen. The Parable of the Talents in Matthew chapter twenty-five is something my mother used when I was little to help me understand the importance of using the gifts God gives us.”

  “Matthew is New Testament, right?”

  “Yes. Do you attend church, Nick? Where?”

  “Not regularly. We used to.”

  “Maybe you can visit mine. There are a lot of people from school who go there.”

  “Maybe,” he says and hops off the platform to inspect the spotlights. “But, you know, I might be leaving soon so...”

  “That’s all the more reason you need to get connected before you go. Our church has a committee and all they do is mail care packages and organize prayer time for our country’s soldiers.”

  “Would you pray for me, Holly? I mean, if I went away.”

  “I already am, Nick. I added you to my V.I.P list—that’s Very Important Prayers list - as soon as you told me about it last night. It’s a big decision you’re making. You should spend some time praying about it yourself or talk to the youth pastor about it.”

  Nick pulls out his pocket knife and toys with wires on the back of a speaker and I can tell this part of the conversation is over.

  “So,” I continue, “there’s this rich man and he leaves town for a while. He gives each of his employees a certain amount of money—called talents in the Bible. So one man has five talents and he goes out and doubles his gift. Another guy has two and he does the same. But the guy who only had one buries it in the ground and it doesn’t gain anything. In fact, he loses it when the rich man comes back because he didn’t do anything with it.”

  Nick whips the cord from the microphone around the stand and secures it. “I’ve heard this story.”

  “That’s all there is to it. The talents can be interpreted as our God-given gifts. If we use them, God blesses them. If we hide them, God may decide we don’t need them. That’s why I always sing when I get the chance. I’m using the gift God gave me. I don’t want to disappoint God and lose it.”

  “Then why are you hesitating to pick your songs?”

  I bite the inside of my mouth. “I’m not,” I say and scribble on the sign-up sheet. “I’m not. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a trio waiting to claim Winter Wonderland and Silver Bells.”

  By eight o’clock, I am astounded. And by astounded I mean frightened. But also proud. Like when Granny totally crushed her rendition of Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabella, a French carol she’s mentioned but I swear I’ve never heard her sing.

  Nick meets me off to the side as I prepare to close the show.

  “I didn’t know half these songs existed,” he says with a sideways smile.

  “I only know them because I sing, but I was surprised by Merry Christmas, Baby. I hear Elvis sing Blue Christmas a million times every year on the radio, but I’ve never heard him sing that one. I hope Mr. Kim’s hip is OK.”

  “He was able to walk off the stage. I’m sure he’s fine.” Nick nods toward the crowd. “You have fans. They’re waiting for you to come back on.”

  “They’re asleep.”

  “They are not. Hey, do you want to do something after this?”

  “I can’t. I promised Granny I’d help her clean out two closets and her pantry. Sorry.”

  “OK. That’s not too sad... Text me tomorrow when you want to leave.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  I am startled when Nick squeezes my hand and runs his thumb across the back of my hand. “Nice job, tonight,” he says and then turns away as though he’s said something wrong.

  “Thanks,” I squeak, grateful I’m not the only one around here embarrassing myself this time.

  Nick returns to the karaoke machine and starts my final song.

  I ignore the tickle in my stomach and my hammering heartbeat as I glance at Nick and feel a wave of heat cross my cheeks.

  I close my mind to things around me and prepare to sing O, Holy Night.

  I sing for Granny and for Nick and Tanya and my snoring adoring fans, but yes, I’ll admit it as I hit the best part and feel a little teary.

  This one’s for Jesus at Christmastime.

  Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!

  O night divine, the night when Christ was born;

  O night, O Holy Night, O night divine!

  Day Four—Further Crimes and Misdemeanors.

  Nick pulls the truck off the highway and heads along the narrow dirt road toward the animal shelter. The building comes into view across a cold, snow-dotted field. He drives up to the low metal farm gate. It’s closed and locked with a heavy chain.

  “I don’t think they’re open.”

  “What?” I lean forward and stare at the gate as if something will change. “It’s only three o’clock. The website says they’re open ‘til four-thirty today.”

  “I don’t know, Holly, but
I don’t see any cars. It looks locked up tight.”

  “How can that be?”

  “We can come back tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. They’re not here on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.”

  “There’s a sign on the post,” Nick says. “I’ll check it out.”

  He kills the engine and hops out. I do, too.

  A plastic pouch hangs from the edge of the gate, whipping in the bitter wind.

  Nick holds it steady and reads. “Due to circumstances beyond our control, the shelter has closed early for the holidays. Please call the number below in case of an emergency. We are sorry for any inconvenience blah, blah, blah... Sorry, Holly.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” I shout and stomp down the fence line. Frozen ground crunches under my feet and the wind whistles at my back as it carries the scent of snow to my nose. “I should have trusted my own instincts and hitched a ride down here days ago. Me and Granny could have spent this time getting her kitten settled, but no. Noooooooo... Now we’re kittenless at Christmas.”

  Nick pulls his gloves out of his pocket and pops his collar up around his neck. “This wind is brutal. There’s snow coming.”

  “I know. I smelled it a second ago. Oh, wait! I smelled it! That means my nose is almost totally well. I smelled the snow coming without even trying.”

  “Congratulations. Can we get back in the truck now before our noses freeze and fall off?”

  I lean on the gate. Christmas is just over there. I can’t reach it.

  “C’mon, Holly. Let’s go get the food and the litter and the other things you wanted. Maybe you can wrap it all up and give it to her and then the two of you can come back after Christmas and get the cat.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Nick comes around to help me with the stubborn door.

  “Wait,” he says and stops. “Did you hear that?”

  “What? I hear wind, a dog barking, maybe a big truck on the main road—”

  “That.” He jogs back to the fence and walks farther down until he’s directly across the field from the front door of the shelter. “Listen.”

  I stumble to his side and pull my scarf from around my ears. “I don’t hear anything—”