by Bex, Alice
”Madeleine! What are you doing?”
“Don’t follow me.”
“I don’t know what Kristen told you. No telling. Whatever it was, I seriously doubt there’s one bit of truth in it.”
“How am I supposed to know what’s true or not? I hardly know you.”
“You said yourself that Kristen made you uncomfortable. You said she was weird.”
“Being weird doesn’t automatically make a person a liar.”
“Just tell me what she said.”
“She said—if it’s even half true—“
How bad was it? And if Kristen hadn’t already known who Madeleine was, why had they been discussing him at all?
“Let’s go somewhere else and talk about this. How about your house? We were going to end up there eventually anyway.”
That sounded bad. Presumptuous and cocky. Why was he always saying the wrong thing? He didn’t usually. Madeleine made him nervous and when he was nervous—
“Were we? Well, we aren’t now.”
“OK, then we’ll talk right here. Tell me what she said.”
“What difference does it make? It’s still going to be her word against yours.”
“No, it’s not. That woman and I have history.”
“No kidding.”
She was leaving. He reached out to stop her.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Alright, leave. But promise me one thing.”
Madeleine paused and turned to face him. She didn’t promise, but at least she was listening.
“Call your brother and ask him what he knows about Kristen.”
Madeleine looked like she might actually do it, but she still didn’t promise.
“Please, promise me that much.”
“Ok. I promise. But don’t follow me to my car.”
Madeleine looked at the time on her car dashboard. It was only a quarter ‘til 9. Sadie would wonder why she was home so early. Oh, well. She’d just have to wonder.
Sadie didn’t ask any questions. Madeleine paid her and she left. The house was quiet. Madeleine poked her head into Emily’s room. She was sleeping soundly.
It was the middle of the day in Hong Kong. Joe would be at work, but Madeleine called him anyway. She was too upset to wait up half the night until he’d be free. It rang for a long time, but his voicemail service was disabled.
Madeleine gave up. She went upstairs and changed out of her red dress. She lay on the couch in her pajamas and watched a late-night Christmas special, but it didn’t help. Bah humbug. She sympathized with Scrooge. He had nothing to feel happy about and neither did she.
Madeleine had finally met a guy who seemed sweet and funny and was totally into her and he turned out to be blackmailer who dated married woman. Possibly. She wasn’t at all sure she believed Kristen. But why would the woman have randomly lied to her like that?
She was confused. And hungry. She made popcorn and dragged out the Christmas wrap from under the stairs. If she couldn’t get to sleep—and she was sure there wasn’t any use in trying—she might as well make good use of her time by getting her gift-wrapping done.
She finished at three o’clock in the morning. She tried not to think about how her office party had turned out. Angela was most likely somewhere with Kristen’s husband. What was Kristen doing? How could they all be so casual about their marriages? What was wrong with people?
Madeleine arranged the wrapped gifts under the tree. She hadn’t sent Joe’s yet. She and Ami had gotten him a new watch—Ami didn’t know yet. Maybe she’d get around to mailing it off tomorrow. Maybe there was a suitable packing box in the closet under the stairs. No. She was too tired. Good thing she didn’t have to work tomorrow. She didn’t even have to get Emily up in the morning. School was out until after New Year’s.
Madeleine curled up on the couch under a quilt and watched the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree until she fell asleep.
Two Days Until Christmas
Mark woke up angry. He’d gone to sleep angry and the feeling hadn’t dissipated. He couldn’t let Kristen win like this. She had already taken his job from him. She wasn’t going to take Madeleine, too.
He dialed Madeleine’s number. She was probably sleeping in, but he didn’t care. He wanted to know if Joe had vouched for him. Madeleine would believe her own brother. Madeleine picked up after the second ring.
“Hello, Mark.” She didn’t sound angry, but she didn’t sound happy, either. In the background, he could hear Emily singing a barely-recognizable Christmas carol.
“Did you talk to Joe?”
“No, I can’t reach him.”
“Can I please tell you my side of the story?”
There was a long pause. Surely, she wasn’t going to refuse to hear him out. She seemed more reasonable. Did she honestly believe all men were lying jerks just because Chad was?
“I’m listening.”
Good. She was going to listen to him. She was going to believe him. Everything was going to be alright.
“Kristen used to be a client of mine.”
“So she says.”
“She propositioned me and I turned her down.”
That wasn’t exactly true. He’d almost slept with Kristen once, but—this was Madeleine he was talking to. He was serious about this woman. He’d better be absolutely honest with her.
“Actually, we went out a few times before I found out she was married.”
“You didn’t already know? Doesn’t she wear a ring?”
“She never wore a ring to work-out. When I confronted her about it, she said she took it off because her ring gives her a rash.”
“OK. But why did you get involved with her in the first place?”
“I wish I hadn’t. It was a huge mistake. Obviously.”
“So, she’s your type, then?”
“No, she’s not my—“
This was going spectacularly badly.
“Can we put a pin in the issue of my involvement with her in the first place, and move on to what happened after that?”
“OK.” Madeleine sounded reluctant to let it go, but she did.
“When I found out she was married, I was upset she hadn’t told me. She claimed I should have known. She claimed she’d mentioned her husband to me, but I’m 100% sure she never did. She’s a bit of local celebrity, so maybe I should have known, but I didn’t.”
The truth was, he’d been so apathetic about Kristen he hadn’t even bothered with a simple internet search. That was how on-the-fence he’d been about her in the first place.
“Go on,” Madeleine said.
“She wanted to turn our casual thing into a long-standing affair. When I turned her down, she went to my boss and said if I wasn’t fired she’d—actually, I’m not clear on exactly what she threatened him with, but she has connections all over. I think my old boss has several undocumented family members living in Seattle and she found out somehow. I told you an abbreviated version of this the other night when we went out for a drink with Ami.”
“I remember.”
“Anyway, she must have something on the manager of every place I go to look for a job. Either that or she’s able to bluff she does. A couple of days ago she showed up at my front door and threatened me.”
“Threatened you?”
“She was vague about what she planned to do, but she wasn’t vague about the timeline. She gave me until Christmas Eve to change my mind, or else.”
“Or else what?”
“I don’t know. Yesterday she scratched a reminder in the frost on my windshield.”
“Do you have a dog?”
“Yes. Festus the bulldog. Why do you ask?”
“I think she might be planning to do something to your dog. Kidnap him and hold him for ransom or something.”
It sounded ridiculous, but Mark wasn’t laughing.
“What makes you think that?”
“She made several suggestions of things she might do to you.”
“
Like what?”
“She specifically said she wasn’t going to burn your house down, but she did say something about cutting your break-lines.”
“And you doubted me when I told you she was crazy? Even after she said things like that?”
“Well, I know how it feels to be a woman scorned. I didn’t think she was serious. People say all sorts of things about their ex’s. Believe me. I hear things like that all the time.”
“What else did she say about me?”
Madeleine was silent on the other end. Mark wished he could see her face. Then he’d have at least a clue of what she was thinking.
“She claimed you’re blackmailing her with nude photos and sex-tapes.”
Mark couldn’t help laughing. He shouldn’t laugh. It wasn’t funny at all.
“I don’t find it very funny,” Madeleine said.
“You’re right. It’s more absurd than funny.”
“So, you’re denying it?”
“Categorically!”
It would have been much easier to prove he had done something. It was almost impossible to prove he hadn’t.
“Alright. Then tell me this: if Kristen had no idea we—know each other, what would motivate her to make up such wild stories?”
“I don’t know. She’s a pathological liar? A sociopath? She was trying to get your sympathy so you’d help her think up yet another way to ruin my life?”
“I just don’t know what to believe.”
“Alright. What was your first impression of me?”
“That you were a complete player. How many mothers have you talked into sitting on Santa’s lap? I’d really like to know.”
“You were the only one. I swear.”
“And your point is?”
“I tried to get you to sit on my lap because I was afraid you’d leave and I couldn’t let you walk away, not after all these—“
“All these what?”
“Never mind. My point is: What was your second impression of me?”
“I thought you were a nice guy.”
“Trustworthy?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not the trusting type.”
“No.”
“OK. What was your first impression of Kristen? Trustworthy?”
“No.”
“Your instincts tell you I’m trustworthy and Kristen isn’t.”
“Well, yes. But my instincts also told me to marry a man who belittled me, neglected me and finally left me for another woman. Well, other women, if I’m going to be strictly accurate.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Why should you be? He was the one who did all those things, not you.”
“He really hurt you, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did. And I’m not eager to go through that all over again with another man.”
“I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”
There was silence on the other end.
She was crying. He’d made her cry. No, he hadn’t. That jerk ex-husband of hers had made her cry.
The silence on the end of the line was broken by the sound of Madeleine blowing her nose.
“You’re not mad, are you?” Madeleine sounded pitiful.
“Why should I be mad?”
“Chad always got mad when I cried. He said tears are just a way women manipulate men.”
“Seriously? No, I’m not mad. I get mad, but it takes a lot more than a few tears. Seriously? He got mad every time you cried?”
“How about let’s just drop this until after Christmas,” Madeleine said. She obviously didn’t want to talk about Chad any longer.
“What are you doing for Christmas?”
No good. That sounded like he was fishing for an invitation to spend Christmas with her.
“Ami and I are going to our grandparent’s house in Everett for Christmas dinner.”
“What about Christmas Eve?”
There he went again.
“Ami usually comes over. And her boyfriend, if she has one. I think she may have just started seeing someone, but she’s being uncharacteristically cagey.”
Good. Madeleine was sounding almost normal again.
“I’ll go to my parents’ place for Christmas dinner. They still live out on the Olympic Peninsula,” Mark said.
“And Christmas Eve?”
“Festus and I usually sit in front of the fire. Sing a few carols. Roast a few chestnuts. Tell tall tales. Rabbits we’ve chased. Tires we’ve marked. That sort of thing.”
Madeleine actually laughed. Maybe all was not lost.
“Well, have fun,” Madeleine said. “And think about calling Ami. I’m sure she could keep Festus over at her house for a few days. She has a big back yard. Just until the other shoe drops with Kristen. And be careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
“I beg to differ. A man who gets involved with a married sociopath is not the personification of prudence.”
“So, you believe me, then?”
“I don’t know.”
“Please talk to Joe. He can back me up.”
“Alright. I have to go. It’s too quiet. Emily must be into something she’s not supposed to be.”
Then she was gone.
Madeleine normally enjoyed having a day off. It happened so rarely. Today, though, she was having trouble enjoying anything. Emily was in high spirits, however. She was excited because Santa was coming in two days.
Except Santa wasn’t coming. Not in the way Emily hoped. Before Joe had moved to Hong Kong, he’d always dressed up as Santa and brought a stocking for Emily on Christmas Eve. It was a tradition Emily missed terribly. Madeleine had considered hiring someone to replace Joe, but that just didn’t feel right. Visiting Santa at the mall was the best Emily was going to get this year. Emily would hang her stocking on the fireplace before going to bed and in the morning Madeleine would tell her about hearing reindeer on the roof. When Emily would check, sure enough, her stocking would be full of little presents.
When did kids stop believing in Santa Clause? This might be the last year Emily believed in the magic of Santa.
Emily always spent Christmas Eve with Madeleine and Ami. Soon after the divorce, Chad had insisted he wanted Emily to spend every other Christmas with him. However, after his own parents moved to Florida, Chad was finding it inconvenient to have Emily for the whole day. He certainly wasn’t up for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Emily took displaying Christmas spirit very seriously and was adamant that everyone around her do the same. Chad found his daughter’s enthusiasm irritating and tiring. This year, Chad had informed Madeleine he would be dropping by her grandparents’ house after Christmas dinner with Emily’s presents. That would be it.
Madeleine, thanks to her late-night gift-wrapping frenzy, had very little to do that day. She’d contribute a couple of dishes to her grandparent’s family dinner, but she didn’t need to start cooking until Christmas Eve.
Madeleine tried calling Joe again, but there was no answer. She wanted to call Ami and tell her the whole sordid story of what had happened at last night’s party, but little ears were listening. Instead of calling, Madeleine sent her sister a series of texts containing an abbreviated version.
Madeleine wandered around the house, compulsively straightening. She’d been meaning to reorganize her closet. Maybe a good clear-out would calm her nerves. Emily dogged Madeleine’s foot-steps and sang off-key Christmas carols at the top of her lungs. When she didn’t know the words she substituted, “Fa-La-La-La-La”. Madeline started pulling things out of her closet and laying them in piles on her bed. Emily danced around the room, singing about reindeer and snowmen.
“Is Santa coming this year?” Emily asked.
“Of course. Santa comes every year.”
“No, I mean before I go to sleep. Like he used to?”
“Well, Santa’s gotten much busier the last few years. Between the run-away birth-rate in—“
“Santa’s run away?”
>
“No, no. I just meant there are more kids being born all the time and that means Santa has to deliver more and more presents every year.”
“You did get to see Santa. You saw him at the mall.”
“That was fake Santa.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I saw two Santas taking turns. One Santa went into a little room and there was another Santa coming out at the same time. I know there’s only one real Santa.”
“Don’t you think Santa might get tired sometimes? He might need a substitute.”
“I guess. But the Santas at the mall weren’t real. Only the one that comes to our house is real.”
There was no use arguing with water-tight logic. Madeleine missed her brother. Come back Joe. He had promised, before he left for Hong Kong, that he’d do his best to make it back every Christmas. So far, his best hadn’t been good enough.
Madeleine started pulling shoes out of her closet. It was ridiculous to have this many shoes. There were some she’d worn only once or twice. Madeleine went out to the garage and found some cartons. The women down at Ami’s shelter could use these clothes. It was important to look good. Some very capable women came through the shelter, but they didn’t stand a chance of getting back on their feet if they showed up for job interviews wearing tee-shirts and old sweatpants.
Mark called Ami right after he ate breakfast. Ami was very sympathetic. She herself had been stalked by a rejected ex, she said. She’d be happy to take Festus for a few days. Maybe he’d bark all night and keep her obnoxious neighbor from getting any sleep.
Festus wasn’t much of a barker, Mark said. But wouldn’t a barking dog keep Ami awake, too? Mark asked.
“Nah! I found these great ear-plugs. I’d sleep through an earthquake with those things in.”
“So, the neighbor’s not a problem any longer?”
“I wouldn’t say that. He’s started sending me flowers. I hate flowers. All they do is die.”
“He’s creepy, then?”
“No, he’s not creepy. He’s kind of cute, actually. It’s the principle of the thing. He must be made to suffer in proportion to his sins.”
