13. The Season of Giving
The Season of Giving
HENRY
Alexa Aster was not a name I expected to see on the Sunshine Meadows visitor log when I signed in to see Great Aunt Isla.
My heart rate ramped up as I scurried through the lobby where people read large-print books and others sipped tea out of mugs.
Yet another school choir roamed the halls singing, “Do They Know It’s Christmas?
” I could already hear Great Aunt Isla chiding, “Of course I do! You won’t shut up about it. ”
Her terseness was not what was making my hands clammy as I weaved past the janitorial carts. Great Aunt Isla was the only family member not in the family text thread. She didn’t have a smartphone. This meant Alexa probably came to deliver the news of the new man living in my apartment face-to-face.
Laughter seeped through the door as I prepared to knock.
Should I come back later?
No, I had more painting to do and a turntable to finish.
Not to mention my phone was full up with news articles about the magic revolving window that I couldn’t wait to proudly show Great Aunt Isla.
Of course, all the press made me infinitely more nervous that it wouldn’t work. That I would flop. But I pressed on.
As I stood, hand midair and thoughts whizzing, the door flung open in my face. Alexa nearly walked right into me. “Henry. Hello? Standing out here like a creep, I see.” I choked on any sort of rebuttal. “Aunt Isla, Henry’s skulking around. Should I let him in?”
“Depends,” came Great Aunt Isla’s weakish voice. “Is he friend or foe? Has he come to reprimand me for the other night again?”
“Are you here to reprimand her for the other night again?” Alexa asked, guarding the door with her arms pressed to either side of the frame so I couldn’t pass.
“No, I’m not,” I said, annoyed they’d somehow cultivated this effortless banter in my absence. Annoyed that I was the bad guy suddenly.
“He’s clear,” Alexa yelled back. Unseen, Great Aunt Isla grumbled her assent. Before Alexa let me through, she stopped me with a hand. “I’m really excited to see the revolving windows. Your flashy Instagram posts are adorable.”
“Thank you,” I said. While graphic design wasn’t my expertise, creating little ads with Aidan was a fun way to pass the time while a silly Christmas movie he put on played in the background.
Her sunglasses doubled as a headband until she pulled them down over her eyes and said, “I’ll be there. Front row. Cheering you on! Tell Aidan I said hi.”
As if I hadn’t been nervous enough. I pushed inside the apartment, where Great Aunt Isla sat in her dusty-rose rocking recliner watching Christmas in Connecticut on TCM.
I said my hellos before bringing the reusable grocery bags over to the fridge.
I unpacked Smartwaters and Pedialytes and assorted frozen berries.
She ignored me in favor of Barbara Stanwyck and a cow. Fair enough.
When I was finished organizing her perishables, I debated whether I should come up with an excuse for why I couldn’t stay, but Great Aunt Isla finally spoke. “You’ll be happy when I tell you that I’m banned from bingo until the New Year.”
“That doesn’t make me happy,” I said. “Why would that make me happy?”
“I didn’t mean you’ll be happy that I’m banned.
I meant you’ll be happy that I’m telling you .
” She never took her eyes off the TV. She wore a green cardigan over a white top.
A snowflake-patterned blanket hid her legs.
The toes of her bulky orthopedic slippers poked out the bottom.
“I’m not sure when we stopped telling each other things.
It’s hurtful to hear them from your cousin. ”
She’d turned the drama all the way up to a twelve on a ten-point scale. I summoned my patience. “I’m sorry. It all happened without warning and sort of suddenly.”
“Not so suddenly that you hesitated before letting him move into my old apartment.” She clucked.
“He needed a place to stay.”
“How do you know he’s not a criminal on the lam? A con man with a secret identity? A gold digger?”
“I’m not the California hills in 1848. I have no gold to dig. You’ve been watching too many movies,” I told her.
“Pish-posh, what does this new man named Aidan do?” Alexa had spilled the beans about his name and new address, but nothing else.
“He, uh, sort of works in the shop with me,” I said.
“How are you paying him?”
“Creatively,” I said, to which I received a confused grunt. “Sparingly. We’re working it out.”
“Clearly,” she huffed.
The overwhelming urge to explain whipped at me, but how could I? She’d dismissed my inquiries about magic hour and wishes. “It’s the holidays. He needed work. He appeared in the shop like a regular Klara Novak.”
“Guess that makes you a regular Jimmy Stewart,” she said with a fleeting smile.
“Guess so,” I said. Though the romantic lead role didn’t fit right.
If anything, I was Jimmy Stewart in a Hitchcock film.
Frantic for answers while tangled in a web of secrets, lies, and happenstance.
“What I came here to talk about, though, is the new window displays I’m doing.
Aidan is helping me put together the revolving window. ”
“Didn’t I tell you that was too much hoopla for no payoff?” she asked. Her memory was best when she served me sass.
I hesitated, phone in hand. “I mean, yes, but I thought this through, came up with a story, and went out to buy all the supplies and items.”
“You’re investing money in this project?” she asked, muting the TV finally. The lack of background noise jarred me.
“Only what’s necessary to make it worthwhile,” I explained.
“What about the back rent you owe?” she asked.
Her question was a Frisbee to the face. “Um, what?”
“Doll, I’m old. I’m not stupid. I had an inkling, which Alexa confirmed.
” My look of befuddlement prompted her to go on.
“You know she’s looking for rental space in Ocean Glen.
Mr. Potter owns more than one storefront location.
She mentioned to him the specifications she’s looking for, and he told her there might be a vacancy soon because someone hadn’t been paying in full or on time. ”
That little sneak! I couldn’t believe Alexa had gone behind my back to Mr. Potter. More importantly, I couldn’t believe she’d dumped my business woes on Isla like this.
“I’m working on it. I’ll figure it out.”
“I know you’ll figure it out, doll, but with the five-year lease up in January and the price hike Mr. Potter is threatening, I’m not sure it’s worth renewing,” she said.
I was already a failure to most of my family—the studied artist who never produced any art. I refused to fail Great Aunt Isla, too.
“Please don’t make any rash decisions. The window is meant to bring in more customers. Look at all the buzz we’re getting!”
I handed her my phone and she scrolled, but her face never showed anything other than mild interest. “I hope it amounts to a rousing success, doll,” she said, but there was no conviction behind her statement.
“Both with your window and your man. Will I have the pleasure of meeting him?” It was a bitter demand phrased like a question.
“Of course,” I said. Was Aidan ready for that? Was I ready for that?
“Do bring him by then,” she said before turning the TV volume all the way up.
AIDAN
Finding the transportation center and bus 832 was easy. Getting aboard was hard.
Everyone in front of me tapped their phone to a small circle to the right of the driver before selecting a seat, so I followed suit, trying to blend in. The driver called me back, “Eh, eh, eh. Come here. It didn’t scan.”
“Scan?” I asked.
“The pass on your phone. It didn’t go through,” the driver—a round-faced white man in a blue collared shirt and dark slacks—said. “Do you have a pass on your phone?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, checking the screen. I’d changed my background to a photo of me and Henry we took before we went to the Groove Grotto. We were both smiling from ear to ear in our club outfits.
The driver raised an eyebrow at me. “You don’t think so, or you don’t?”
“Come on, man. Some of us have classes to get to,” said an early-twenties Black guy in a baseball cap and sweatpants. He had a backpack on the seat beside him.
“You paying or are you getting off my bus?” the driver asked with supreme impatience.
I fumbled with the wallet Henry had given me. Some bills were still stuffed inside it. “How much?”
“Two dollars and fifty-five cents, buddy,” he said in an accent I couldn’t place. I handed him a twenty. “Exact change only.” He pointed at a sign I’d missed.
“I got him,” said a white woman in her twenties wearing some sort of candy cane–striped uniform under her plush bright purple coat who stood behind me on the steps.
She passed two singles, two quarters, and a nickel to the driver before gently shoving me forward.
We ended up sitting together in the back.
“Thank you,” I said to her. “That was very kind.”
“No prob. That’s what the holiday season’s all about, right? Giving,” she said before popping in earbuds and listening to loud music for the rest of the ride.
Back at the mall, I referenced my shopping list. When Henry told me he was going out on an important errand, I figured I should use my alone time in human mode wisely.
This meant getting Henry Christmas gifts.
Luckily, my phone was a massive help when I looked up: What to give your true love for Christmas .
I ignored the hunger pangs in my stomach as the scent of French fries floated over from the bustling food court.
I went straight for the lit-up directory and searched for a pet store, which I soon found along a dark, mostly empty corridor.
Many of the stores had OUT OF BUSINESS signs slapped across them or were entirely dark.