Cozy Christmas Shorts

by Halliday, Gemma

  You are the sun, the stars, and the moon.

  You light my world and show me the way.

  "So Henry sent you a note?" I ask, uncertain where the problem lies.

  She shrugs. "That's the problem, Henry didn't write that. I don't know who did. But whoever wrote this…" She sucks in a breath. "He's my future."

  I'm so confused. "What are you talking about? Henry is the love of your life."

  She turns to me, tears in her eyes. "That's just it, Gi. What if he's not? He didn't write that. I know him better than I know myself, and he wouldn't. He's not poetic or witty."

  I have to agree. Henry's simple and straightforward. His idea of poetry is Roses Are Red.

  "Then who?" I ask.

  Aunt Stella hovers over to us. She's frowns. When does she not? "It's colder than a witch's titty."

  I'll never understand that expression.

  Claudia, oblivious to it all, says, "Well, that's what I've been thinking about. It has to be Malachi or—"

  "Wait. The guitarist you auditioned for the wedding?"

  She bows her head, staring at her pointy shoes. I don't know how she wears those things. High heels pinch my toes something awful. Even the wide-width ones I fit into.

  "Is there something going on between you two?" Something she didn't tell me about.

  Aunt Stella cackles. "So she's a slut too?"

  I glare at the woman. This is her favorite niece. What does she say about me when I'm not around?

  Claudia's head whips back up. "Oh no. I wouldn't cheat on Henry. He's a wonderful man. But Malachi is so different—exciting, spontaneous."

  "So you're considering a future with someone you just met?" Why do I sound condescending? Thirty minutes ago, I considered pouncing on a man I only just met, so who am I to judge?

  "If Malachi could be the one, then doesn't that mean I shouldn't marry Henry?"

  She has a point.

  "Okay, you said 'or.' Who else could've written the note?"

  She turns her head away from me, and I almost don't hear her say, "Dave."

  I flinch so hard I almost knock her off the bench. "As in Dave Curtis, your high school boyfriend?"

  Aunt Stella groans and turns her back on us.

  Claudia giggles. "Yeah. Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I ran into him last week. We went to lunch and got to talking, and all those reasons I loved him in high school are still there."

  My confusion quadruples and does a few flips at the same time. I'm so perplexed that I've barely noticed my ears turning to ice. "So you're still in love with him?"

  "No, but I could be."

  "Okay, let me get this straight. Someone left you a romantic, anonymous note, and you're concerned that the person who sent it is the one. And that's probably not Henry."

  She carefully nods. "I feel horrible saying this. Henry's so great, and I do love him. I just don't know if I can spend the rest of my life with someone so predictable."

  "Are you sure you're not just nervous about tomorrow? Everyone gets cold feet at some point."

  She grabs my hands. Hers are so cold I'm surprised they haven't cracked into little shards yet. "This is more than that. I'm scared of making a mistake, Gi, of ending up like my parents. I need to walk down the aisle when I'm sure, right?"

  I take a deep breath and blow out condensation. "Yes. Of course, but what do you mean about your folks. They have a great marriage, no?"

  No sounds or comments from the peanut gallery, but I wonder if Aunt Stella agrees with me.

  Aunt Angela and Uncle Franco seem to be happy. Yeah, they have their disagreements, but so do my parents, and I know mine still love one another. It was evident when I'd walk into the kitchen, early on Sunday mornings, and catch Pop twirling Ma around the kitchen, dipping her by the stove and planting a big kiss on her mouth. Gross but totally sweet.

  "They made breakfast for us. My brothers were horsing around like when we were kids. Mom was telling us to not get egg on the floor and to not spill the syrup. Dad was reading the paper, ignoring it all. She gave him a look of pure disgust and resentment. It was so ugly, Gianna. I've never seen anything like it before."

  Aunt Stella twirls back around and stares at my cousin. She doesn't make a crack. Her expression is blank. What is she thinking?

  "I imagine living with the same person for over twenty years would make anyone have moments of hate. It's natural. I hate you when you spend too much time on your hair."

  She laughs, probably thinking I'm joking. "It's not just the look. I started thinking about all the years, how predictable and by the book they've been. I love that Henry's always on time, and he never forgets my birthday."

  He's a darn saint. She should be realizing how lucky she is.

  "But I don't know if I can live with that for the rest of my life."

  I slap my thigh and barely feel it. "Okay, I get it. But now what? You sit out here thinking much longer, and there won't be a wedding because you'll die of hypothermia."

  Her eyes widen in terror. Leave it to me to put a little cheer in her day.

  "Besides, thinking about it isn't going to give you answers. You need to be proactive. Go to them, and figure it out." Not an easy task in one night, but it beats turning into a human Popsicle.

  "Every time I get close to any of them, I feel all fluttery and can't think straight."

  Oh God, this will be harder than I thought.

  "You do it," Aunt Stella says to me.

  "What?" I ask.

  "What, what?" Claudia asks, and I suddenly feel like I'm in a bad comedy.

  Aunt Stella smiles. It makes her eyes twinkle. "You talk to Henry and Malachi and Dave." She sticks out her tongue and clears her throat at the mention of Dave. Guess Aunt Stella doesn't like Claudia's high school sweetheart. Hopefully there's a juicy story there, and I can get her to squeal at some point.

  "What are you thinking?" Claudia asks.

  Aunt Stella's idea is wacky, and I can't imagine how I'll get any answers, but it beats freezing to death. "Fine. I'll do it."

  I expect Claudia to shoot down that option too, but her expression perks up. "How?"

  I stand up and grab her arm, pulling her to her feet. "I don't know yet. My brain has slowed down. I need heat. Let's get in the truck."

  She doesn't question me any further, which is good because I don't have any answers. I seriously need a sauna and a cocktail or possibly a lava pit.

  As we get closer to Julian, Claudia whispers, "Who's the hunk?"

  I give her a pointed look. "You have enough on your plate."

  * * *

  After explaining the situation, in much more brevity than our conversation on the bench, Julian agrees to play chauffeur, which is awesome since I'd probably crash Claudia's car without the proper use of my hands and feet.

  Even though this is Aunt Stella's idea, she "wheeees" in the backseat. "Road trip!"

  "What about my car?" Claudia asks after she gets over the fact that her father hired a PI to track her down.

  "We'll come back for it," he says and glances at her in the rearview mirror. "So where to first?"

  I study his profile. He seems so eager to help us. "Are you sure you want to do this? You must be busy. It's Christmas Eve."

  He winks at me. "Trying to get rid of me?"

  I snicker, torn between being super annoyed that he thinks I need help and wanting to rip our clothes off and mesh our naked bodies together to radiate heat.

  "Let's start with Dave," I say.

  "Ghosts of Boyfriends Past," Aunt Stella whispers.

  I glance back at her, realizing just how right she is.

  Claudia gives Julian directions to Dave's house, while I press my hands to the heat vent. I should've brought gloves, but I wasn't thinking clearly when I charged out of the apartment.

  When we pull onto Dave's street, I'm immediately disappointed. Every house light is off. This neighborhood is either very old and goes to bed early or very young and stays out partying.
r />   "I don't know where he lives," Claudia finally confides.

  Julian and I glance back at her and then give one another a look. If we added words to it, it would go like this:

  Me: Then why the hell are we here?

  Him: Don't look at me. She's your crazy cousin.

  And the soundtrack would be from that ancient TV show, The Twilight Zone. Oooh, maybe Lucy Hale can play me in the mini movie version. But she'd have to curl her hair. I take pride in my curls. And gain about sixty pounds. Most actresses are way too skinny anyway.

  "Did you pick a random house to visit?" I ask.

  Aunt Stella chuckles. It's her signature sound.

  "No. This is where his parents live, where he lived in high school. It's Christmas Eve, so I just figured he'd be here with them. Oh wait, he used to volunteer at a soup kitchen. The one on Benedict Street. Do you think he still does?"

  Julian and I exchange glances again—the silent movie kind.

  I shrug. "Your guess is better than mine."

  I don't want to add that it's been six years since they graduated from high school.

  "Let's go," Julian says as he drives off.

  Aunt Stella wheees again. I raise a brow at the little piggy.

  On the way over to the seediest part of town, Claudia fills Julian in on her relationship with Dave.

  "I broke up with him right after graduation. I told him it was because we were going to different colleges and should meet other people, but he went to the community school in town, and I went to a vocational school. It's not like we were leaving the state. I just really wanted to spread my wings, so to speak."

  "That's reasonable," Julian says. "You were young."

  There's complete silence, and then she whispers, "I just hope I didn't make a mistake."

  Julian pulls up across the street from the soup kitchen, and Claudia points out Dave's car. "He's there." The excitement in her voice is unmistakable. "How are we going to do this?"

  I grab the door handle, not quite ready to face the cold again. "I'll go in and get him talking. Then I'll come back and let you know what he says."

  "You're just going to ask him about me?" Claudia's brow burrows.

  "Not a good idea?" I glance to Julian, but he doesn't give any indication if he thinks it's a good game plan or not.

  Claudia shrugs. "I just, I mean what if he won't spill to my relative? What if he's shy?"

  I try hard not to roll my eyes. The last thing we need tonight is a tightlipped guy.

  "Okay, so I'll pretend I'm someone else." And somehow get him to confide in a stranger. I tighten my grip on the door handle.

  Julian nods. "Okay, wait a sec." He pops the trunk and jumps out of the car. He fishes around back there for a few and then returns with a couple of gadgets.

  "What's that?" I ask.

  "A microphone."

  Claudia giggles and leans into the space between the front seats. Of course this means Aunt Stella can't see, so she pokes her head through her niece, who shivers violently. They look like some alien creature, with a head coming out of her chest, and I avert my gaze.

  "This end you wear," he says and leans toward me. He starts to pin it to the inside of my coat, but I hold up my hand.

  "What if I take my coat off?"

  He nods and stares at the plunging V of my green sweater. "Um, as much as I'd love to attach this to your bra, I think I should buy you dinner first."

  Aunt Stella cackles, and Claudia giggles.

  I try to keep my expression serious and raise one brow. "That better be one expensive dinner."

  He chuckles. "Only the best."

  I ignore the tingling sensation between my legs and pin the mic to the pink lace of my bra, probably giving everyone a peek. I turn as best as I can in my seat, to Claudia, and lean into her. "Can you see it?"

  She stares down my cleavage and shakes her head. "Nope. You're good."

  When I sit back up, Julian looks awfully amused.

  "What? I'm only five-two. Anyone over five-five has to look down at me."

  He nods.

  I grip the door handle and glance back. "Wish me luck."

  Julian smiles. "You won't need it." His voice is smooth, and I can't help wonder if he was born sexy as all heck or if he works at it.

  The soup kitchen is loud, warm, and smells like burnt gravy, not to mention unclean human scents. I try not to gag and make my way to the back where the volunteers are. I've seen a few photos of Claudia and Dave, so I should be able to pick him out as long as he hasn't lost his hair and gotten a potbelly in six short years.

  I spot him wearing a red Christmas sweater and spooning mashed potatoes onto a plate. I hurry over. "Hi, can you help me?"

  He looks me up and down, never missing a plate. "You hungry?"

  Geesh, do I look homeless? I’m wearing a knee-length, black skirt with the green sweater and knee-high black boots. I spent half my paycheck on these boots. That doesn’t mean they’re designer. More like I don’t earn a lot.

  "No. My car broke down, and I'm waiting for a ride. Do you mind if I wait in here? It's freezing out there." And if he wants me to prove it, I can place my icy fingertips on his neck.

  "Sure. If you want to help out." He grins.

  What an ultimatum. I shrug off my coat, grateful I had the foresight, and put on an apron. After pulling my hair back into a very unattractive hair net and slipping on gloves, Dave hands me the 'tater spoon and moves over one step to the turkey-looking thing.

  "I'm Dave. What's your name?"

  "Gi…" Wait, what if Claudia mentioned her cousin? How many Giannas does one person meet? It's not terribly uncommon, but I've never met another. "GiGi."

  "Nice to meet you, GiGi. Are you from around here?"

  "Yeah, the other side of town. What about you? Do you volunteer often?"

  "Every chance I get. It feels good, you know?"

  I grin at the toothless man in front of me. "Yeah. But doesn't your family miss you on Christmas Eve? Wife? Kids?" I glance to his ring finger. It's ringless.

  "Nope, I'm single. I'm only twenty-four. There's no rush. Besides, the right girl slipped away years ago."

  I can practically hear Claudia awwing from the car.

  "That sucks. Do you want her back?"

  "She's getting married. Tomorrow no less."

  That doesn't answer my question, but before I get to ask again, a man from the back comes up to take his position.

  "Are you leaving?" I ask.

  He taps his wrist. "Time's up. Now I get to go be with my family. It was nice meeting you. Have a great holiday."

  "You too."

  When he heads into the kitchen, I grab my coat and run outside.

  Back in the car, I slam my door shut and wiggle into my coat. "Did you get all of that?"

  "Every word," Julian says, holding up the receiver.

  Claudia sighs. "He still loves me." She moves back into her seat, and luckily she and Aunt Stella aren't doing their Alien impersonation any longer.

  I don't point out that Dave didn't actually say that. What's the harm in letting her bask in their past for another second.

  When Dave emerges from the building, I point. "There he is. Follow him."

  Claudia pops back up. "Why?"

  I give her the most gentle, most loving are you out of your mind look. "Claud, he only said he let you get away. He didn't answer me when I asked if he wanted you back. And for all you know, he's joined the priesthood and is headed back to the church. We need more answers."

  Wait, why have I suddenly made this my mission?

  "No, scratch that. This is your future. What do you want to do?"

  She points to Dave's beige sedan making a U-turn. "Follow that car."

  * * *

  We follow him back to his parents' house. I know he said he was off to see them, but I expected him to stop home first and shower and change. I can't imagine dishing out food in a sweaty kitchen has him feeling fresh and clean. Then again, boys are
different. My brother, Enzo, could wear the same pair of socks for a week.

  Dave enters the dark house through the side door with his own key. A back downstairs light goes on and then nothing.

  "This is boring," says Aunt Stella. "Where's the adventure? Let's drive over the Grand Canyon, Thelma."

  I ignore the old woman and ask, "Where did his parents work?"

  "I don't remember." Claudia opens her door.

  "What are you doing?" Julian asks.

  "Going to snoop. I'll be right back." She runs into their yard and peeks into a side window. All we need is for someone to call the cops.

  I want to open my window and yell at her that she's not doing it right. And I would know. I've spent most of my life sneaking up on my brother and sister, scaring the snot out of them. And them me. It's our way of life and a hoot. If there's one thing I've learned though, you stay to the back of the house or to tall bushes so no one thinks you're trying to rob the place, and you never stand full height at a window. You squat down so the person on the inside doesn't see you.

  Before I have a fit and go into convulsions, she steps around to the back of the house. At least now I can't see her rookie mistakes. It dawns on me that she and I have never gone scaring together. I'm sure at least one of her brothers deserves it.

  "You're quiet," Julian says. "What are you thinking about?"

  "Izzie and Enzo. They're my sister and brother. And how much I miss them. This is my first Christmas without them."

  "Boo hoo," Aunt Stella says then disappears. I hope she stays gone for a while. Sometimes it’s hard listening to her comments and not reacting.

  "And you're not going home because of the wedding."

  "The one that may not happen? Yeah." Before I start feeling the need to get misty eyed, I ask, "What about you? Are you spending the holiday with family?"

  He never did answer me earlier.

  "It's just me and my dad, and he went to spend time with his mother. My grandmother lives in Massachusetts. So I'm on my own this year."

  "What about your mother?" Sometimes being nosy is acceptable. Like when you're stuck in a car with a gorgeous man you want to get to know better.