When they were about to part ways, they hugged tightly, Sam squeezing her in his grasp. “You know what?” he said, his head to the side a little as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I think I’m going to see you happy some day. With some amazing lady. Whether it’s Fiona or not. I know I’m going to see you happy.”
Max snorted at that in spite of herself. “If you say so.” They paid Chella who chortled “Merry Christmas!” after them as they walked out of the bakery.
“Hey, don’t forget about Saturday, okay?” asked Sam as they let themselves out of the bakery, the bell jangling merrily behind them as the door shut. It’d gotten even colder out, or maybe it was just extra cold because of how warm and cozy it had been in the bakery.
“What about Saturday?” asked Max, her teeth chattering as she pulled her damp hat out of her pocket and shoved it on her head.
Sam groaned. “See, I knew you’d forget! You forget every year!”
“Oh, crud. Wrapping,” Max groaned.
“Hey, have a little respect. The Seeing Eye Dog Association is a great charity!” grumbled Sam, grinning. Sam volunteered most weekends for SEDA, and was in charge of the annual gift-wrapping table headed by SEDA at the local mall every holiday season.
“It’s not the charity I’m grumbling about—you know I love the charity. The charity is great. I just don’t know how, every year, you rope me into wrapping presents for anyone silly enough to ask me to wrap them,” sighed Max, pulling her hat down more soundly around her ears to keep out the chill. “I’m terrible at wrapping presents, and you know it! I end up using about an entire roll of tape on each one, and the corners are never even, and then everyone looks upset that they asked me to wrap them…you know, last year, there was a woman who’d actually remembered me from a year previous, and she actually took the toy out of my hands and gave it to another wrapper because she didn’t want me to wrap it…” She trailed off because Sam was chuckling. “You’re a jerk,” Max declared, chuckling a little too. She had to. She’d been so tense and upset that even this little bit of laughter felt so good.
“Just think of it like the one action that’s going to put you from Santa’s naughty list to the nice one,” said Sam, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Your shift is at two in the afternoon on Saturday, and if you forget, you’re going to make me cry.”
“I wouldn’t want to do that,” said Max, smiling affectionately at her friend. They walked together companionably against the wind and the snow, back toward their cars in the parking lot.
Max didn’t know what sort of strings Sam had pulled to let their boss let them go so early, but it must have been a lot of strings, and all at once, because if there was ever a living personification of Scrooge, Tom State would be it. And Sam had tried so much to make her smile and help her figure out this whole big…mess.
Max told Sam “thank you,” and meant it deeply as she gave him another tight hug before they parted ways.
But the fact of the matter was that things were still a mess. And there were no solutions other than the most obvious one. Which was to keep on keeping on. The very thought of that made Max feel so tired that a bone-weary ache began to flood her.
She was already so tired of fighting feelings that moved through her so strongly. She was so tired of fighting against a love that she wished she could deny.
But could not.
Chapter 8: Home
For the rest of the week Max went to work and then went to Fiona’s cupcake shop, balancing her time between the two places to arrive at her apartment very late each night, with only enough strength left in her to collapse into bed, and dive into dreamless sleep. Because all too soon morning would come, and she would repeat the cycle all over again.
The nights with Fiona were as wonderful as they were terrible. Max loved being so close to the vivacious, captivating woman, but it was also a special form of torture, because, of course, she kept wanting all of the things she could not have. Max wanted to reach out and touch her, reach out and kiss her, wanted to wrap her arms around Fiona, wanted to taste her more than anything she’d ever wanted. Max wanted to experience Fiona in every way, wanted to be the one who would make her utter that sweet laughter for the rest of her life.
Days came and went. Nights came and went.
And Max’s heart ached.
Saturday morning dawned as white as freshly driven snow. There was a winter storm warning in effect for the whole city of Boston, so Max wanted to get to the mall early to make certain she was there in time for her shift. She got dressed, put on two pairs of socks and two pairs of gloves and got in her car to make the twenty minute drive to the mall. But, of course, when she got up on the expressway, it was bumper-to-bumper traffic that very solidly refused to move. Max muttered to herself about how people tended to forget how to drive when the snows started to come, and though she knew she could easily cheer up if she turned up the radio and sang along to her heart’s content, she didn’t do it.
Instead, she thought about Fiona.
By the time she pulled into one of the only empty places she managed to find at the mall—in spite of how bad the roads were, and how nonexistent the visibility seemed to be, it was still prime shopping season—Max was in no mood to wrap gifts. She grabbed the Santa hat from the back seat that Sam had brought into work for her on Friday, jammed it on her head, and marched through the unending parking lot toward the mall itself.
Her face softened when she neared the entrance to the mall. Out front stood about ten kids of varying heights and ages. They were all holding laminated sheets of music.
And they were all singing.
Max stood in the cold, in the harsh, driving snow, and she listened. It’s funny, she thought as she watched the children’s faces earnestly reading the words of the song from their papers, belting it out. No matter what, “Silent Night,” always sounds beautiful. And it was true. Even though some of the kids were singing pretty off key, and even though some of them weren’t together on the words, it still sounded quite pretty. By the time they’d gotten done with their song and Max had pushed through the double doors and into the mall, there was a tiny bit of peace in her heart.
Honestly, the first little bit of peace she’d felt all week.
Max didn’t know how much longer she could live like this. There was so much anguish in her heart, always. She ached to be so near to Fiona and so utterly unable to do anything about it. It was painful for Fiona to stand close, hip to hip, as she showed Max how to mix the right ingredients or how to bake the cupcakes just right.
Max had now spent quite a few cumulative hours with Fiona, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was no longer falling in love with Fiona.
She’d already fallen.
How much longer could she hold out? How much longer could she take Fiona’s tight embraces without drawing the woman to her? How much longer could she bear it when Fiona would entwine her fingers with hers, squeezing her hands with her warm palms and bumping shoulders softly with her? These were delicious, exquisite forms of pain, but they were pain, all the same.
Max loved Fiona. She loved Fiona fiercely.
And she kept that secret as best as she could. And she would have to keep it. Forever.
Max breathed out as she made her way through the crowds in the mall. There were a lot of smiling faces, laughing children, harried parents running after the laughing children. There were armfuls of bags and people talking about deals and sales and men and women strolling across the tile floor arm in arm or hurrying quickly across the tiled floor to get to the next sale. It was so hectic and holiday music blared all around them, but it was still a cheerful sight to see, so many people gathered together, buying up little tokens of affection to tell someone else that they cared about them.
She reached the center of the mall, which was where the food court was located, and also the entrance to “Santa’s Kingdom.” They used the same decorations for “Santa’s Kingdom” that they used when M
ax was a little girl, which meant they were partially decayed, and more than a little creepy. One of the larger teddy bears was missing an ear and an eye, which Max tried not to notice. Instead, she made a bee-line past the ho-ho-ho-ing Santa and past the line of screaming, crying, hysterical children waiting for a place on Santa’s lap, and made her way to the gift-wrapping table.
Since Sam was in charge of organizing the gift wrapping every year, and since the seeing eye dog charity, SEDA, had been gift wrapping at this mall for over a decade, they always got a pretty choice spot, situated between a sporting goods store and the line to see Santa. It was highly visible from all of the tables in the food court, and there was always a steady stream of people walking past because they were in the center of things.
And because people tended to be more generous at this time of year, it meant that usually there were a lot of people getting their gifts wrapped and donating to SEDA.
For a donation (at least five dollars, but because of that generosity, there were often tens, twenties, and Max had seen a fifty tossed into the bucket a few times), you could get anything wrapped that you wanted. There were about five volunteers at any given time, and big rolls of festively colored wrapping paper and many rolls of tape and buckets of donations spread around, behind and over the table. It was happy chaos. Max let herself in behind the long table, and a volunteer she recognized from last year practically pounced on her.
“Max, right? I’m Vera,” said Vera with a grin, checking Max’s name off on the volunteer clipboard. “All right, we’ve been swamped all day—I finally get a pee break!” And without any other sort of announcement, Vera snatched up her purse and coat from beneath the table and all but sprinted out from behind it, heading toward the rest room.
Volunteer shifts were two hours long, but because Max cared about Sam and the organization (and, honestly, because Sam had begged because of how short staffed they were this year), Max had taken two of the shifts, back to back, meaning she would be wrapping gifts for four hours. She’d never done two shifts together, and maybe it if hadn’t been on a Saturday, it would have been all right.
But it was on a Saturday. And what passed through in those four hours was more gifts than Max had probably wrapped in her entire life. She did her best with each one, but she wrapped most of them poorly, using—as was her tradition—far more tape than any wrapped package deserves, handing over the badly wrapped presents with an “I’m sorry, I’m not a very good wrapper.” Which usually earned her a wide-eyed “don’t worry about it,” in return, with the person walking away surreptitiously trying to unwrap the gift and shove the crumpled wrapping paper in the nearest trash can.
Max was nearing the end of her shift, tiredly trying to wrap a gigantic sheet of wrapping paper covered in teddy bears holding candy canes around a tin can of popcorn that was at least three feet tall when she paused.
Walking toward her across the expansive tile of the mall food court was none other than Fiona.
She looked beautiful, as always, her red hair upswept into a high ponytail, and a sprig of holly in her hair. She wore a purple sweater under her red coat, and her tall riding boots, and she carried a little paper shopping bag in her hand. She was smiling brightly at Max. Fiona had spotted her and was making a beeline toward her.
“Do you ever rest?” Fiona asked once she’d approached the table, a smile tugging at the corner of her sweet, pink lips that Max tried very hard not to stare at. Fiona was wearing an unusual color of lipstick for her, and Max very much liked it. Max chuckled along with her, shaking her head and shrugging.
“No,” she said, which was the truth. “I’m volunteering for the Seeing Eye Dog Association. We wrap your presents for a donation!” she said, patting the sign on the table that detailed the information. “It’s a great charity,” she added, ready with all of her rehearsed lines as to why you should get a present wrapped with them, but Fiona was reading some of the information, scanning it with quick eyes. But not really. She glanced at it, then she glanced back up at Max, her lips twitching upwards again.
“I like your hat,” she said, leaning forward and tugging a little on the white puff that hung from the end of Max’s Santa cap. Max stiffened at how close Fiona’s fingers came to brushing up against Max’s cheek, how the sweet scent of vanilla and spicy floral seemed to intoxicate her as Fiona leaned forward toward her. But then Fiona straightened, sighing for a moment.
“Have you heard much from Jo this week?” she asked. It was strange, because Fiona never really much talked about Jo when Max and Fiona worked together in the cupcake shop. They talked about everything under the sun, but the topic of Jo, oddly, never really came up.
“No,” said Max, biting her lip. She actually hadn’t heard from Jo since they’d talked about Max helping Fiona out at Florabella Cupcakes. It wasn’t unusual, when Jo was working on a very detailed project for her company or setting up a new franchise office, that it would be awhile in between conversations (they hadn’t even kept their usual Monday dates because of how busy Ho had been), but as Fiona leaned on the table sadly, it stirred Max’s heart. She wanted to reach out in the space between them and embrace Fiona.
But she didn’t.
“I haven’t heard from her for a couple of days, and it’s just…” Fiona bit her lip, picked up one of the brochures for SEDA. Max blinked as she looked at Fiona’s face—her eyes were too bright. Was she holding back tears? “This place seems like a great organization,” said Fiona, then, smiling too brightly, her voice false as she tried to be cheerful again. “Anyway,” she said, clearing her throat and not looking at Max, “I was out shopping for Jo’s present. She’s pretty tough to buy for.”
“Yeah,” said Max, smiling softly. “She’s always been.”
“She doesn’t really like stuff, as you well know. And she doesn’t wear…well. Jewelry. And we’re so new in our relationship…” Fiona looked up into Max’s face, then. It surprised Max how sad Fiona looked. “It’s just feels that I don’t really know her well enough yet to figure out the perfect gift, and I honestly don’t know her well enough,” she said then. The words were fast and small, but still Max heard them. Max didn’t know what to say, bunching her hands at her sides as she tried to think about something comforting that she could tell Fiona. That she was sorry that Jo was distant toward her, that Jo didn’t spend that much time with her. That’s just how Jo was. Jo was incredibly passionate about her work, and that didn’t mean that she was any less passionate about Fiona.
“So,” said Fiona, with a long sigh, “I got her a gift certificate to the Malibu, which they were selling at the local business kiosk in the mall.” Fiona held up a cheap envelope with a bow printed on the side. “But...I’d still like it gift wrapped,” she said decisively with a small smile, and she handed over the envelope to Max, and deposited a ten dollar bill into the donation bucket.
“One terribly wrapped envelope, coming up,” said Max with a little chuckle as she turned back towards the rolls of wrapping paper, but not really seeing the wrapping paper choices through her haze of concern. Fiona looked so hurt. Max wished, so much, that there was something she could do to ease that pain. She could tell Fiona over and over again that Jo cared deeply about her work, that Jo really cared about Fiona, but that meant nothing.
Because Jo needed to show that she cared deeply about Fiona.
Max thought she did. It seemed like she did. Max didn’t really have a lot of interactions between Fiona and Jo to go on, but it had seemed, so much, that first time in the Malibu that Fiona and Jo were perfectly compatible, and had great chemistry together. They had seemed meant to be from the way Jo had placed her arm around Fiona, so naturally, and the way that Fiona had curved her body to Jo’s side.
But as Max cast a surreptitious glance over her shoulder at Fiona now, who was listlessly straightening all of the piles of brochures on her end of the table, Max wondered. Because Alex, Jo’s ex, had never looked like this morose version of Fiona once during their relati
onship. Jo had doted on Alex, had been there constantly, couldn’t be seen without her in a public space. They had been obsessed with each other, and perhaps it was not in good ways that obsession, some of the time, and they weren’t really right for one another in the end, but…
Max pulled off a long piece of tape and wrestled with her cut of wrapping paper. Fiona was amazing. Fiona was amazing. Why wouldn’t Jo want to spend time with her or talk to her?
“I’m very sorry,” said Max, then, turning back and presenting Fiona with the wrinkled bit of wrapping paper that, somehow, she’d managed to wrestle around the envelope and add a bow on top. “This looks terrible.” She handed the wrapped envelope over the table to Fiona, who took it with a chuckle.
“Well, for a professional gift wrapper, you’re really good at making cupcakes and cards,” said Fiona with a wink as she slid the wrapped envelope into her purse. She stood for a moment at the table, pressing the palm of her hand against the sign on the table’s surface before looking back up at Max. “When do you…when do you get off work here?” she said, glancing at the long row of volunteers.
Max checked her watch. “Five minutes,” she said, adjusting her Santa cap so that it was more at the center of her head, instead of sliding off the back of it. It was much too big for her.
“You look really nice in that. It makes me happy to see you wearing something so festive,” said Fiona, shifting her weight as she glanced up at Max with hooded eyes. Then, she cleared her throat. “So, do you want to get a coffee with me or something afterward?”
“Coffee?” asked Max, her heart beginning to beat too quickly. She laughed a little, the sound of it coming out a bit strained, even to her ears. She wanted to say aren’t you sick of me yet? But it’s not how she felt. And she needed to say exactly what she felt in this moment, so she did: “Coffee with you would be...wonderful.”
Don't Say Goodbye Page 11
