by Nella Tyler
I told myself as I finally got close to the mall that I wasn’t going to go into the situation with any expectations at all. If he’s not interested in me anymore, that’s going to be obvious from the beginning. If he is still interested in me, then that will be obvious too. I wasn’t about to sit there and pine for someone who’d already moved on; I’d spent too long being single—and mostly happy—to get all wrapped up in a guy who would rather drop off the face of the planet than tell me he wasn’t interested.
I circled around, looking for parking, watching the time tick down to when I’d agreed to meet Patrick at the entrance to Bloomingdale’s. “If you’re late it’s not like you set a definite time,” I told myself, waiting for the slowpoke in front of me to move their ass. “Besides, he showed up late to the first physical therapy session you had with Landon.” The fact that he’d been on time to every other session—and to all of our dates together—was a separate issue. I took a deep breath and considered texting Patrick to let him know that I had arrived, but was looking for somewhere to park. If he was looking too, then it wouldn’t matter; but if he was waiting for me outside of Bloomingdales, I’d feel bad for the fact that he was standing in the cold while some woman or man waited for someone else to pull out of a parking spot rather than moving on and accepting that they were going to have to walk a little bit.
I finally managed to find a spot and pulled in, throwing my car into park and taking a moment to check myself over. I had forgotten almost completely what it was I even needed to buy; I shook my head at how much stress I was putting myself through for what should have been a very casual, very basic date. I went over the list of friends and family that I had to buy for in my head and tried to remember if I’d already bought for each person and if so, what it had been that I’d gotten. Once more I argued with myself over whether it would make any sense to get anything for Patrick; especially now that I wasn’t sure if he even wanted to see me anymore, it seemed silly to worry about it. “Quit stalling,” I told my reflection. “It’s not going to get any better worrying about it.” I checked my purse to make sure I had my phone, my wallet, and my keys, and I got out of my car.
Chapter Four - Patrick
I spotted Mack as she came to the ground floor entrance of Bloomingdales. I stepped forward, taking in the sight of her: her hair bundled up in a gray knit cap, her curves wrapped up in jeans and a sweater. She looked as adorable as ever, and for a moment all I could think of was how much I wished it could work out between us. Talk to her. Ask her how she feels. She gave you another chance to make it right; don’t waste it. “Mack! Hey,” I smiled, and she saw me finally.
Mackenzie hurried closer to me, her cheeks flushed in the cold, and I thought that I had never in my life seen anyone as simply beautiful as her. Don’t get ahead of yourself. You don’t know where her head is at. You have to find out. I hugged her quickly and gave her a kiss on the lips as soon as she was within reach, and for just a moment, everything was right. Everything felt the way it should. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her hair, her soap.
“Did you have any shopping you needed to do?” Mack pulled back and looked up at me. I shrugged.
“I could get a couple of odds and ends while we’re here,” I said. “Stocking stuffers, little things for some of the kids in the family.” Mackenzie smiled.
“Should we start here then?” She looked around, and I realized that we were obstructing the flow of foot traffic.
“Yeah—before someone yells at us for getting in the way,” I agreed. I took her hand and we walked into Bloomingdales together. “Who do you need to shop for?” Mackenzie looked around as we moved forward from the entrance.
“Mostly my siblings,” Mack answered. “I wanted to get one or two other things for my mom, too.” I nodded, thinking of the things I needed to get a few members of my own family.
We wandered around Bloomingdales, taking in all the holiday frenzy, and making small talk. “Do you have any special family traditions?” Mackenzie looked up from a display of tree ornaments and shrugged.
“Mom makes her special eggnog, Dad roasts some chestnuts. We decorate the tree together—what do you think of this one?” She held up a silvery star ornament, studded with green and red crystals.
“I like it,” I said. “Landon made one kind of like that last year in preschool. Not as nice, obviously.” I smiled to myself, remembering the ornament; Landon had taken pieces of Popsicle sticks and covered them in green and red glitter, until there was no wood to be seen anymore.
“If he’d made something out of metal like this, I’d be really shocked,” Mack told me, grinning. “It’s five dollars. Worth it?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Totally,” I said. I watched Mackenzie pick out a few more ornaments, getting my approval for each one, and tried to think about how to come around to the subject on my mind.
We wandered through the store, picking up a few more items each, and then left Bloomingdales to go through the rest of the mall, browsing and taking in the decorations, the other shoppers. “No matter how soon after Thanksgiving I start, I always seem to end up doing my last shopping on Christmas Eve, and wrapping presents at midnight,” I told Mackenzie as we passed a giftwrapping station.
“Me too,” Mack said. “Of course, I’m not alone—my parents always have last-minute things to wrap for their grandkids.”
“So a big late-night wrapping party?” I tried to picture Mackenzie in her pajamas, wrapping presents, maybe drinking some mulled cider or some wine. She could be doing that with you. It was too easy to imagine her with me at my parents’ house, sitting in the living room, drinking wine while we worked on Landon’s presents or some of the others. I’d give her a smaller present—nothing big, just a little something—right at midnight, and then we’d finish up the wrapping and go to bed together.
“What else is there to do on Christmas Eve?” Mackenzie shrugged, the smile tugging at the corners of her lips driving me almost crazy with the desire to kiss her. “I can never sleep on Christmas Eve anyway—ever since I was a kid. I might as well be doing something.”
“I hear you there,” I agreed. You could be having sex. That’d be a great way to spend Christmas Eve: making love all night until Landon wakes us up. I pushed the thought aside, remembering what Mack had said about not thinking she was destined to have kids, or even get married.
We wandered from one store to another, and while I tried to think of a way to bring the conversation around to our relationship, I couldn’t think of anything. I bought a few odds and ends for Landon’s stocking, a few little things for my nieces and nephews; all of the kids in my family were still at an age where they were more excited by the fact that they had presents to unwrap than by the actual presents themselves. Even Landon, in spite of his list of things he wanted, had been thrilled the year before just to tear paper off of packages, to see what surprises were in store for him. “How do you do Landon’s presents?” I looked up from a big wall of puzzles at Mackenzie’s question.
“What do you mean?” I picked one of the easier puzzles and tucked it under my arm; it would be a good family present for my sister’s family—something they could all do together on a rainy day.
“I mean do you stick with his list, or do you split it up with the rest of the family, or some of what he wants and some of what he needs?”
“He gets a few things from his list, a few things that I know he needs, and a few things that I think he’d like, but that he didn’t ask for.” I shrugged. “The whole family exchanges lists, so we keep track of who’s getting what for the kids. Landon gets most of what’s on his list, but he doesn’t get everything and then some.”
“That’s a smart way to do it,” Mackenzie said. “When I was a kid, the rule was: something you want, something you need, something to wear and something to read.”
“Big book people?” Mackenzie chuckled.
“My grandfather only had a seventh-grade education,” she explained. “But he
managed to educate himself well enough to become an accountant, back when you didn’t need a degree for it. So he was always super passionate about reading and books.”
“Sounds like a good guy,” I said. “Maybe I should start getting Landon into reading more.”
“It’s a great thing,” Mackenzie said. “I like the way you’re doing it though—it’s good to have some surprises, some things you never would have expected to get.”
“Landon’s at that age, you know?” I picked up another puzzle and then put it down, deciding against it; I couldn’t think of anyone in the family who would actually want it. “As long as he’s tearing wrapping paper off of presents, he almost doesn’t really care what it is inside.”
Mackenzie laughed. “One of my nephews is at that age too,” she said.
“You must be the favorite aunt,” I pointed out. “With—with no kids of your own, you’re not as stressed out. And you’re great with kids.”
“I’m great with kids in part because of my nieces and nephews,” Mackenzie said. “Lots of practice, and lots of seeing them at different ages.”
“So Aunt Mackie,” I said, trying the nickname out for size. “Do you get them all the coolest toys?”
“I get them some cool toys,” Mackenzie said. “But mostly I’m good at picking out things that their parents don’t think of. I’ll see something in a store, and it’ll remind me of one of the tykes.”
“It’s a shame that you don’t think you’re going to ever be in the position to spoil some kids of your own,” I said, taking the plunge. “I think you’d be great at it.” Mackenzie shrugged.
“I’ve mostly made peace with it,” she said. “I mean after all, if I can’t find someone to have those kids with…” she stopped short, looking at something in a display. “Can you do me a favor, Patrick?”
“What’s that?”
Mackenzie picked up a little make-your-own kite set and showed it to me. “If I buy this, will you give it to Landon, from me?” she blushed. “I can’t really give it to him at the clinic—it’d be mean to the other kids. But he was telling me the other day that you and he talk about flying kites when it gets warmer.”
“I can do that,” I said, smiling. She wants to buy a present for Landon. She’s thinking about him. That has to mean something. “Are you going to get me something for Christmas too?” Mackenzie’s blush deepened and she turned away, taking her wallet out of her purse to pay for the presents she’d selected.
“I have actually been agonizing over whether I should,” she admitted. I caught the sight of her licking her lips in profile. “Especially these last couple of days I didn’t know if I was going to see you in time to be able to give you a gift…”
“And now we’re shopping together,” I said. “It wouldn’t really be a surprise then, would it?”
“Nope,” she agreed. “So you kind of shot yourself in the foot, suggesting we do our shopping together. No Christmas present for you.”
We went up to the fifth level, and grabbed dinner from Potbelly’s: Italian for me, and roast beef for Mack, and we settled into the first seats we could find to eat. Stop hedging and just ask her, I thought, watching Mackenzie closely as she took bites of her sandwich and sipped her milkshake.
“I was hoping that I might be able to see you again, now that things aren’t so crazy,” I told her. I was still hedging, still avoiding asking her outright—I’d become a complete coward. “I’m going to have the week from Christmas Eve until New Year’s Day off.”
“I’m not sure what my schedule’s going to look like,” Mackenzie said quickly. “They’re putting off the roster for holiday overtime until the last minute, same as last year.” She looked at me for a moment and then reached down to tug one of the slipping shopping bags closer to her. “Plus, you know—family. They want to spend as much time with me as possible, and the holidays are really the only time everyone’s free.”
“I hear that,” I said. “I was just thinking—you know. I feel really bad about canceling on you, and then sort of dropping off the radar for a while.”
“It happens,” Mackenzie said. “I get it. I’m a pretty busy person most of the time too.” She gave me a brief smile. “And I don’t even have a kid. So don’t worry about it too much.” I wished—god how I wished—that I could suggest that she could come home with me. I thought that if I could get her alone, if I could just spend a little bit of time with Mackenzie, that I’d know for sure how she felt. Every time you’ve had sex with her it’s been great. She’s been great. I’d gone so long without it that now that I’d gotten a little taste, I was thinking about it at least five times a day. “I think I’m done,” Mackenzie said, surveying her bags. “I mean—unless you had something else to do.”
“I’ve got to make sure Landon isn’t driving his aunt crazy,” I said. “I could walk you to your car though.”
When we got to her car, I managed to scrounge up enough courage to kiss her; Mackenzie melted against me, and the urge to call and tell my sister that I’d be late to pick Landon up was almost unbearable. But a little voice inside my head told me that I was just delaying the inevitable. I kissed her one last, quick time. “I’ll get in touch after the holiday,” I said. “I’d love to see you again, and soon.”
“That would be really nice,” Mackenzie said. I turned away to find my car, and tried not to wonder how I could spend almost two hours with a woman and not know for sure whether she loved me or not.
Chapter Five - Mackenzie
I had expected that the date with Patrick would finally make everything clear to me; I’d know for sure whether or not he was interested in me, or if he’d moved on. Instead when I went home I had been more confused than ever. To make matters worse, the day after the date was my day off from work; I was going to be spending the whole day by myself, dwelling on the strangeness of the date and trying to figure out what to think.
Patrick had said that he wanted to see me again—sometime during the holiday week. But he hadn’t made any specific timeframe, and he hadn’t texted me after we’d parted for the night. He hadn’t even mentioned wanting to come home with me; though that might be as much because he had to think about Landon as anything else. We’d made out—and it had been as hot as ever—but before that the whole date had been awkward. And then, of course, there was the fact that he’d been avoiding me, and he hadn’t given me any kind of reason for it. Something about his excuse about being busy just didn’t add up to me, though I couldn’t say what.
Instead of torturing myself all day, after I got up and had some breakfast, I called Amie. Even if I wasn’t sure whether or not I could fully trust her with information about my relationship with Patrick, I wanted her company, and she was one of the only other people in the office who had the day off so close to Christmas. “Hey, Amie,” I said when she picked up the phone.
“What’s up? I would’ve thought you’d be hanging out with Patrick.” I rolled my eyes, even though I knew she couldn’t see.
“He’s at work,” I pointed out. “I was wondering if you’d want to come over and help me wrap presents.”
“Sure! As long as you’ve got some wine for me to drink when I get there.”
“Are you even supposed to be drinking with the medications you’re on?”
“I’ll skip a dose; I’ll need to do that anyway, with having to take the bus to get there.”
“I can pick you up,” I pointed out.
“Nope. I’m going to hop the bus in ten minutes—it’s going right by my place to your place. Don’t even think about getting in your car. The roads are icy.” Before I could argue the point—to try and tell Amie that if the roads were bad enough that she didn’t want me to drive, they were bad enough that walking to the bus stop, especially with her injuries, would be miserable—she hung up on me. I shook my head and chuckled to myself, and got up to get ready for her to arrive.
I grabbed a cheap bottle of red wine that one of my patients’ parents had given me as a
Christmas gift and poured it into a pot with some spices, sliced an orange and a lemon and added them too. I set it on the stove to heat up a little bit—Amie would definitely be even happier to have not only wine, but hot wine to enjoy when she got to my place. I pulled out all of the things I needed to wrap, including the presents I’d gotten for the clinic’s holiday party the next day. We had two big gift-giving things for the party: one was a Secret Santa with a limit of $15, and the other was a $5 “stuff the stockings” gift.
In twenty minutes, there was a knock at my door, and I hurried to let Amie into my apartment. “I can smell wine,” she said, giving me a quick, awkward hug with her injured arm dangling, a big bag full of gifts to be wrapped hung on her other shoulder.
“Not just wine,” I said, leading her into my kitchen. “Mulled wine.” I turned off the heat and added a little bit of sugar and big splash of brandy from a bottle I kept around mostly for cooking, and in a minute we were sitting at my kitchen table together, drinking our wine, talking about the office gossip.
“Who’d you get for secret Santa?” I rolled my eyes; no one was supposed to know, but since Amie was going to be helping me wrap presents, there was no point in even trying to keep it a secret.
“I got Mary-Ann,” I said. “I got one of those gift sets from Bath and Body Works for her, since she wears all that lotion and stuff.”
“I got Jim,” Amie said, making a face. “I got him a couple of mini-bottles of bourbon on special and a gift card to the hardware store.” I laughed; Jim was another one of the physical therapists, and one of the manliest men I’d ever met in my life—he’d be delighted with the present Amie had gotten him. “If it wasn’t for the fact that he’s got a wife already, and a kid on the way—only you didn’t hear it from me—I’d ask him out.” Amie sighed.
