20
I find Jamie’s teenage sister in their living room by the Christmas tree, freshly showered and dressed after her run, with a yogurt by her side.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she looks overwhelmed by wrapping paper chaos—ribbons draped over her shoulders, a roll of paper clutched between her knees, and toys, books, and fluffy sweaters scattered around her.
“Oh good,” she says, spotting me. “My backup is here. It’s been wrapping paper five, Eliza zero.” She giggles while fighting tape stuck to her fingers. “Thanks again for helping me pick out the perfect gifts.”
My face flushes. I have no memory of this, but it sounds like me.
Eliza continues. “You’re so good at figuring out unique and thoughtful ideas. How do you do it?” I float down and brush aside some ribbon so I can sit across from her. “I don’t know. I guess I just pay attention.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Pay attention to what?”
I never thought about it before. I like making people happy, so I know what will please them. I swallow, remembering my fight with Robbie. Sometimes making people happy isn’t a bad thing, I tell him in my mind.
“Well,” I say, “my dad was a doctor. Dinner conversation growing up was basically symptom spotting. Someone coughs? He’s already diagnosing. Someone’s quiet? He notices.”
Eliza nods slowly.
“I think I picked that up,” I continue. “Looking at people like puzzles. What’s missing, what’s hurting, how to fix it. So now I do it with gifts. Or food. Or vibes.” I gesture vaguely.
“So you help people,” she says.
I smile to myself. That’s always how I liked to see it. It’s fulfilling for me to help others. That’s why I enjoy speech therapy.
“I try to.”
She smiles, then softens. “You’re really good at it.” I swallow. I must be very good at it, if I can make Dale and Anthony into rock stars in their fields and impress a family like the Baccays.
Eliza pauses. Then she asks gently, “But who’s helping you?”
I stiffen. Her question lands harder than it should. I open my mouth, ready with something breezy, and realize there’s nothing there. No answer waiting.
“I—” I stop. Laugh, but it comes out thin. “You ask a lot of good questions.”
Eliza studies my face, like she already knows the truth and is just giving me time to catch up. “Do you even know what you want?” she asks. Despite the fact that I’m being psychoanalyzed by a teenager wearing a Christmas monster sweater, she has a point.
I stare at the ribbon in my hands, suddenly very aware that in all my gift giving, I’ve never thought to unwrap anything for myself.
Madam Lunas’s words also ring in my ear. Finding my true love is up to me.
That’s great. But how do I decide if I don’t know what I want? My stomach sinks. Am I destined to be in a time loop forever if I can’t find love? The possibility is unsettling.
“I guess I’m still working on it” is all I can mutter to Eliza.
After some time, Jamie’s mom pads into the living room freshly showered, wearing jeans and a festive silver-and-gold sweater. She glances at the presents and claps her hands. “They’re beautiful,” she says. “Eliza’s been procrastinating all week, so she’s got lots of catching up to do.”
“Hey,” Eliza protests. “I didn’t have to run this morning.”
While they are arguing with each other, Jamie enters the room, carrying a box addressed to his sister. I didn’t even hear him come upstairs.
“Eliza claims she doesn’t procrastinate,” he says, “but this box was on our doorstep just now.” He shakes it near his head. “Last-minute gift for me, maybe?”
Eliza throws a bow at him, which he deflects with an easy giggle.
Mrs. Morales makes a tsking sound. “You’re one to talk, Jamie. You had a couple of boxes sent here yesterday instead of to your address.”
Eliza points at him. “See! You’re getting last minute stuff, too.”
I look from his sister to Jamie. “You don’t live here?” The words are out before I can stop them.
Jamie clutches his chest like I’m roasting him.
Mrs. Morales chuckles. “No, but my son will always have his room ready and available. If he ever wants to stay longer and actually say hello to his mother before hiding in the gym.” Jamie catches my eye with an “ignore her” look on his face that somehow also seems incredibly adorable.
She pinches his cheek, then turns to me. “I hope he doesn’t just ‘come and go’ as he pleases with you, Marygrace.”
“Of—of course not,” I stammer, realizing the implication of her words. We must live together in this timeline. “But he does spend a lot of time at the gym, don’t you?” I say good-naturedly.
“If I’m going to get nothing but grief, then I’m going to shower,” Jamie says before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.
“You tell me if he doesn’t treat you one hundred percent right,” Mrs. Morales says to me as she hands me a gift box and I start wrapping. “But seriously, I’m so happy you and Jamie reconnected. It’s been a treat getting to know you. And I can’t wait to bake with you tonight.”
As we settle in, the room takes on a warmth I sink into.
The Christmas tree lights, soft holiday music piping over a speaker, and the chatter between mother and daughter reminds me so much of my family, just on a smaller scale.
Someone hands me tape. Another person hands me a mug of something cinnamon-scented.
Their dog, a cute brown corgi mix, wanders through and steals a plush toy we were supposed to be wrapping for him.
And suddenly—shockingly—I feel like I’ve been here a hundred times. Like I belong in this little circle on the carpet drinking protein-powder hot chocolate and giggling with Jamie’s sister about the life-size inflatable barbell gag gift she bought her older brother.
For a moment I can see this being my normal, but Madam Lunas’s and Eliza’s words come to mind. My happiness and who I love is my choice. I get that. But how do I figure out how to choose?
We pile into the family’s Odyssey after Jamie’s dad pulls his medicine ball collection out of the back.
Jamie snuggles up beside me as his parents drive us through the woodsy back lanes to the center of town.
I take out my phone to check for messages.
I see none, but I also see I don’t have service out here.
At last a big WELCOME TO PINEY JUNCTION sign, festooned with branches of holly and ivy, greets us as we pull onto Main Street.
It’s a cozy town, with little toy-box buildings lining the street, decorated for the holiday.
A fine layer of snow makes everything look like we’re inside a miniature Christmas snow globe.
It’s such a cute, Christmasy town that I’m momentarily distracted by the fact that I live an hour away and have never heard of it before.
When I take out my phone to search my location on Google Maps, I’m still not getting reception, and the blue loading circle spins and spins until I have to click it off so it doesn’t drain the battery.
“The festival should be relatively calm since it’s early,” Mrs. Morales says from the front seat. “It’s a town tradition to go on Christmas Eve to see the final tree lighting at sunset.”
I gawk out the tinted windows of the minivan.
I can’t see much, but rows and rows of cars slowly funnel into a field for overflow parking off Main Street.
Craning my neck, I spy the town center full booths and tents.
An enormous Christmas tree pokes up above it all, and in the distance there’s even a Ferris wheel.
If this is “calm,” then this place must look like Times Square on New Year’s Eve later, when the tree lighting starts.
When Mr. Morales finally eases the Odyssey into one of the only available parking spots in the big grass space, I slide out of the car and greet Christmas heaven.
The air smells like pine and peppermint, the sound of carolers drifts toward us from the town square, and glowing lights lead the way to the center of town.
Jamie grabs my mittened hand. “You’re going to love it here.”
When we reach the square, I know he’s right.
It looks like Christmas has thrown itself a carnival.
Tents and booths as far as the eye can see have turned the town square into a maze of shopping, entertainment, and eateries.
People squeeze past one another, smiling and laughing, clutching hot cocoa and heaping bags of gifts to their chests.
I gape at the Ferris wheel creaking over the rooftops of the town’s colorful storefronts.
I’m frankly shocked I’ve never heard of this place before. A festival this big in my home state would have surely made news in my family—no one loves Christmas more than we do. If I ever find my way out of this time loop, I will have to take my family here.
“First we have to look at the tree!” Eliza says, bounding ahead of us as we walk through snow-dusted streets.
Weaving through the labyrinth of tents and stalls, we find ourselves at the center of the town green.
There, a stage is set up and beside it, the biggest tree I’ve seen since I visited Rockefeller Center with Juliet and Lisa in college.
“Santa’s lighting the tree tonight,” Jamie’s sister explains to me. “That’s why we go on Christmas Eve. He’s always the final act!”
I’m about to nod and agree with her when something catches my eye on the other side of the square.
An adorable midnight-blue food truck with a giant latte cutout on top, capped with a Santa hat and adorned with garland and holiday lights, calls my name.
I imagine artisanal lattes that would be tasty and gorgeous for my feed.
“Wow,” I say. “I can use a snack.” Jamie follows my gaze and sputters.
“That’s why I call you sugarlips,” he teases. He spins my shoulders in the direction of a booth not far from the truck. I wrinkle my nose. It’s a turkey leg tent. “You want pure protein for a snack,” Jamie muses. “Save the sugar for later.”
“Actually, I prefer the latte,” I say, stepping toward the blue truck, my mittened hand slipping from Jamie’s.
“Watch out!”
A sudden drumbeat startles me and I whip around to see what looks like five high schools’ worth of marching bands coming toward me. I throw my arms up to protect myself from colliding with a tuba.
A strong hand grabs me by the collar of my wool coat and drags me back. “Careful,” Jamie shouts. He holds me tight against his chest. I can feel his heart beating against me.
“You almost got run over by the Piney Junction Christmas parade!” Jamie’s laugh is the exact opposite of how I feel. “They would’ve knocked you back in time,” he muses.
I stare at the tuba that I nearly collided with. In the other time loops, surely I would have been knocked out, but in this one I’m still here with Jamie. That must mean something, right?