40. Christmas
40
Christmas
On Christmas morning, the cookies I put out the night before were untouched on my desk. I wiggled my toes and scooted up to taste them, basking in the company of my bright red poinsettias. As a kid, I liked to think Santa saw the effort I put into making him a plate and let me eat most of the cookies because he knew how much I enjoyed them. It was my favorite gift, especially since I didn’t get that many from my family. Sugar and spice started the day off nice. Memories of Harvey and our tryst in the bakery just made it that much better. I sent him a good morning text with a dozen emojis and scooted out of bed.
My throat was dry, so I made some tea to go with the baked snack for breakfast. Mom was still sleeping, or the bedroom door was closed, anyways, so I went back to my room to savor the early morning quiet. I wrapped my comforter around my shoulders and ate in bed, watching snowflakes drift outside my window. The chill from outside seeped through the walls, but my mug warmed my fingers. I didn’t have anywhere to be until 3PM. Technically, I didn’t have to be anywhere else after this, although I had set up dates with Harvey for later in the week. I’d have to figure something out in the meantime.
I blew on my tea. Not a person was stirring—not even a cousin. Or a plow truck. Outside, everything was a blank slate of snow.
Strangely enough, today didn’t feel any more special than my average day working at the mall. I had a whole season of celebration. Shelby had a very different role than Sugarplum for the holidays: show up, babysit, and pass out gifts. Once that bonus check hit my bank account, I could get back in business. Part of me wanted to relax and put my aching feet up for the next week, but another part was eager to keep chasing my passion—and that didn’t just mean playing with Harvey. I wanted to make some magic.
I finished my breakfast and put on my boots. Every step jingled. The bells invigorated me to grab a shovel, pop in my earbuds to listen to Christmas carols, and clear my aunts’ driveways. I scraped and sweated, singing under my breath between snow hauls.
Aunt Coral’s door banged open, startling me enough to straighten my spine. An earbud swung out of my ear as I turned around.
Zack froze on the front stoop, his gaze darting across the driveways and his jacket hanging open. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you a Christmas present.” I beamed and propped my fist on my hip. “What do you think?”
He blinked a couple of times and furrowed his brow. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. But you've been really good this year. I had to step up in case Santa missed it," I said. Christmas was the perfect time to show my appreciation.
He stomped over and surveyed my work. “It’s uneven around the edges.”
I shrugged. “Yeah. I’m not an expert, but I couldn’t afford a snowblower, so I thought this was the next best thing. Now, you can relax.”
He scratched the side of his neck, his gaze flitting across the drive. “Okay.”
I laughed and pushed his arm. “Why are you being so weird about this? Is it bad? Did you want an upper body workout?”
“No. It’s just…” He huffed and turned to me, his ears reddening. “I didn’t get you anything.”
“I wasn’t expecting a gift.” We hadn’t gotten any 'fun' presents since we were thirteen.
He waved at the pavement. “But you did something big. Now, I feel like a total jackass.”
“You clear our driveway all the time,” I said.
“That’s different.”
Why? Because he was expected to do it? I leaned onto the shovel handle. “Listen, I got to enjoy Christmas for weeks. You deserve to enjoy it too.”
“Thank you.” He thinned his lips, his eyes shining with the reflection of morning snow.
He struggled with emotions, like most of my family. But he did comfort me when I was crying.
I gently punched his arm. “Hey, this gives you more time to sleep. Or write a hit song as an ode to your amazing family.”
“Ah, stop it.” He snatched the shovel. “I can’t believe you ambushed me with a present.”
“I’m sorry.” I grinned. “I thought it’d be a nice gesture.”
“It is. That’s what’s so annoying about it.” He stalked to the garage with me and stuffed the shovel beside the garbage bins. “It’s a lot of hard work.”
“I don’t mind. Well, sometimes. I’m going inside to get ready. Merry Christmas?” I held out my arms.
“Merry Christmas.” He gave me a begrudging hug, which was more than we shared most of the year. That counted as magic enough for me.
I went inside and showered to defrost my numbed, aching limbs. My skin got all red from the cold and the hot water. Oh well. At least it was on theme for the holiday. On my way to my room, the front door look rattled, then opened. I toweled off my wet hair and peered into the hall. “Where have you been?” I called.
Mom jumped, nearly dropping her coat on the floor instead of hanging it on the hook. “Donations. Helping your auntie.”
I narrowed my eyes. No way would she be back this early if she was helping our family. “Did you sleep here last night?”
“Of course I did, Shelby.” Aghast, she shooed me to my room, her fingertip wrapped in a flesh-covered bandage. “Dry your hair or you’ll get sick. I’ll make some tea.”
“I can do it," I said.
“Nonsense. I’m there already.” She hurried past me for the kettle.
It wasn’t worth offering again. For now, Mom could keep her mystery. We had things to do and people to see.
First, our family did shifts distributing meals to the needy. I smiled and served gravy as well as anybody.
Later, at Aunt April’s, I answered a million awkward questions about my last day of work and next steps for my future before being delegated to kid duty. They were getting antsy, so I put on the Nutcracker and had them make up ballet routines. I bent my knees, but couldn’t remember the name of the gesture. “What do you think? Should I call this move ‘climbing down the chimney?’”
A little cousin giggled and spun, then pointed at the screen. “Sugarplum…princess. That’s you, Shelby.”
“It was. Definitely.” I smiled at the sparkly magnificent tutu-dress on-screen. Part of me always would be.
At the end of the movie, the cousins chorused, “Again."
“Okay,” I said. Because who wouldn’t want to relive some of that magic?
But all they wanted to do was smack each other (and me) with pillows to reenact the battle with the rats.
I winced and turned off the movie. Clearly, we needed a better way to expend their energy.
Aunt Coral’s sharp voice silenced them all in an instant. “Who wants to make some snow people?”
“Me,” they answered.
She gave a triumphant smile to the other grown-ups, then beckoned them to help get the kids into their coats and mittens. They led them outside, but I snuck to the fridge.
Mom followed me, worrying her hands. “Are you hungry?”
“No, just looking for some decorations. Aha, baby carrots.” I waved the packaging at her. “Now, they’ll have noses. Or the wildlife will have a healthy snack. Either way, it’s a win.”
Mom furrowed her brow and took the package from me. “Is it?”
Was she not able to register any of my success? Even a little one like this?
My phone pinged with a text from Harvey. “Just finished with fam. How’s your celebration going?”
Mom peered over my shoulder and rearranged the fridge contents. “Is that your boyfriend? You should invite him.”
Was Mom body-snatched? “Are you sure?”
“Yes. We have enough food.”
“Okay.” I texted Harvey the invitation.
“Are you sure?” he texted back.
Laughing, I replied, “That’s what I said! I could always meet you afterwards, instead. I can’t promise coming here will be fun, but you will get a hot meal.”
“Send me the address," he texted back.
Stunned, I lowered my phone. “He’s coming.”
Mom’s eyes crinkled at the edges as she pulled out a bunch of grapes. “Good.”
Good?
Okay, what was going on? I was all about Christmas miracles, but this was sus. “Why did you grab the grapes?” I asked.
“Eyes?" She raised a shoulder.
“Oh, nice.” I would’ve gone with raisins, because I was less likely to miss them, but grapes would show up better. We probably had some mushy ones we could sacrifice to our art. “Are you going to make a snowman?”
She weighed the bags in her hand. “I’ve never tried it.”
“We could make one together." A snowball fight had brought me closer to Harvey. What was to say making something in the snow with mom wouldn't help our relationship?
“Okay.” She smiled and strode off to get her coat.
Maybe she was just being nice. Well, so was I. Stranger things had happened on much less magical days than Christmas.