Hazel's Best Day Ever

The coffee machine angrily grinds to a halt. I shake my head to dust off the sleepiness still covering my senses and glance into my half-filled mug looking back at me. The orange “descale” button blinks in a taunting way. Should I have descaled my Nespresso machine six months ago when I first noticed that little orange light? Maybe. But life got in the way, okay? I’ve successfully procrastinated a task that would have taken me about fifteen minutes, a task that any responsible adult would have done by now, and it’s come back to bite me in the ass. Had I taken care of this simple chore months ago, I would be holding a full, warm mug of coffee comfortably between my hands right now. I contemplate throwing an extra espresso pod into the machine to make it a double. I decide against it (my anxiety will thank me for it later) and shuffle over to the living room with my pathetic coffee.

I search for the end of the extension cord and finding it feels like a small triumph. With a quick plug into the outlet, my Christmas tree lights up and fills the room with a soft glow that instantly boosts my mood and warms my heart. I might be grumpy in the morning (and maybe most of the time), but I’m a sucker for the holidays. This goes against all of my instincts and everything I stand for. I shouldn’t love the way my childhood stocking with a polar bear on it looks hanging above the fireplace, or Starbucks peppermint mochas, or Christmas music playing in every store I walk into, but for reasons I can’t explain, I just do. 

It definitely has nothing to do with secretly looking forward to Will strolling into the local bar each December looking even better than he did the December before. My childhood best friend, the kind of friend you share all your secrets with, climb the trees in your parents’ backyard with, and count on to stand up to the middle school bullies for you, has grown up into a talented, uber-successful, brilliant, and incredibly (unfairly so) beautiful divine being. 

When our friendship turned into something more in the summer before we headed off to start our freshman year of college at the same university, I was on top of the world. But when everything came crashing down four years later, it was hard to imagine ever feeling okay again. Will abruptly moved across the country after graduation to work for some startup while I moved back home. Our breakup was so painful for me, I felt like I had no choice but to completely ice him out and we haven’t spoken since. 

And even though I hate that he’s the reason for the biggest heartbreak of my life, I’m just a mortal human and I have mortal human desires. And mortal human eyes. It’s not my fault (or my choice!) that seeing Will every holiday season predictably spikes my heart rate.

Anyways, none of that is important right now. What I should be focusing on is right here in front of me. My Christmas tree, my (now lukewarm) coffee, and my cute reindeer slippers. “Be present.” That’s what my therapist tells me and goddammit I’m determined to do it! Annalise reminds me in almost all of our appointments to “notice the beauty around me” as a way to help quiet my anxious brain. I try not to let my eyes roll to the back of my head when I recall this latest piece of advice. I am trying to be more open, and besides, it’s true that I am sick of feeling on the verge of having a major meltdown or panic attack, so I might as well give this “being present” thing a shot. 

With that in mind, I stroll over to my large bay window that overlooks my modest backyard and yank open the curtains. 

“Oh!” I gasp. Stinky, my cat, skitters away at my sudden exclamation. To my greatest surprise, tiny white flurries are falling ever so peacefully from the gray morning sky. 

I can’t help it, I smile. I actually stand there in my fuzzy, light green robe and reindeer slippers smiling at the glorious sight before me. The warmth I feel radiates out from my heart and into all my extremities. I mean, for god’s sake, it’s just individual ice crystals that grow while suspended in the atmosphere and fall into the most perfect blanket of pure white, making the city glow in a beautifully pure way that is unlike any other weather phenomenon. What’s so magical about that? Like I said, the joy I feel from witnessing the season’s first snowfall goes against my nature. Most people think I’d be a Scrooge around the holiday season because that aligns pretty well with my personality. And yet, here I am, glued to this spot in my living room, feeling absolutely delighted by what I’m seeing. 

My mind begins to spin (in the good way, not in the anxiety-inducing, heart-racing, palms-sweating way) with all of the Christmas-y activities I could fill today with. It’s a Saturday morning and I have no obligations, no plans, nowhere to be. I guess that’s kind of sad if I think about it… but then I remember it’s snowing and my heart leaps with excitement again. I spin in a quick circle and locate my phone to text Emma. My good-natured best friend is always up for an adventure. I fire off a quick text, throw back the dregs of my coffee, and begin to formulate a plan for what I’ve officially dubbed “The Best Day Ever.” 

***

Today is the worst day ever. I grudgingly glance at my rearview mirror and see the shiny black Range Rover that just barrelled into me going at what felt like a hundred miles per hour. You have got to be kidding me. Today is supposed to be a day filled with spectacular wintery activities! Getting into a fender bender at one of the only two stop lights in this small town is certainly not on the list of feel-good fun. But, I am determined to not let this dampen my Christmas cheer. 

I climb out of my old, trusty sedan whispering apologies to it and I catch my reflection in the window. Emma wasn’t kidding when she saw me over FaceTime this morning and called me the Michelin Man. I’ll admit, the fourth layer of clothing might be overkill, but who knows where the day will take us. Sledding? Building a snowman? Christmas caroling? At least I’ll be prepared! 

I slam the car door shut with an angry huff and turn to look into the eyes of the villain who has almost ruined everything good about my impromptu snow day. 

“Hazel?” I hear his voice before I see his face and immediately consider cramming myself back into my car and driving away at warped speed, smashed fender be damned. Fighting every urge to turn on my heel and run, I turn and look my worst nightmare directly in his face. 

“Will! Hi! Wow, it's been so long. How are you?” I ask while slowly shuffling my way over to check out the damage. Okay, maybe I’ve turned up the charm a little too much. But overcompensating to make up for the unease slowly building in my chest is my best bet, especially if I want to make it out of this debacle with enough time to still meet Emma downtown to browse around the Christmas market.

He looks momentarily taken aback by my ridiculous outfit, but he recovers quickly. Goddamn him and his good manners. He reaches out to embrace me and images from the last time we embraced unwittingly enter my mind. Our hug is made slightly awkward by my bulging puffer jacket and my conflicting feelings of wanting to pull him closer while fighting the urge to jump away as if he’s a wild species about to attack.

He releases me but keeps his hands on my upper arms and shakes his head. “I am so sorry Hazel. This is entirely my fault, of course. It’s been a while since I’ve driven in snow. I’ll take care of all of this. Don’t worry,” Will says with a reassuring grin. He backs away to take another look at my car. 

Will’s smile does that annoying thing it normally does: completely unravels me. I feel a stir in my stomach and I can’t decipher if it’s irritation or excitement. Why must my body betray me like this?  

It’s completely normal to feel this way about a best friend turned boyfriend turned ex-boyfriend you spent four important years of your early adulthood dating and daydreaming about marrying before he completely shattered your heart into a million pieces. 

Right?

I realize I haven’t replied when confusion creeps into Will’s expression. I stutter out, “Oh, yeah, no, it’s fine. Totally fine! No big deal. Needed to take this old thing into the shop soon anyways.” 

Oh my god what am I even saying right now? If the tiniest upward curl of Will’s mouth has me rambling like a moron, the rest of this conversation is going to be humiliating. 

“We’ll get this sorted, I promise. I feel terrible,” Will says while pulling out his phone. 

It occurs to me then that Will has no idea how heartbroken he left me all those years ago. Maybe I’m pathetic that I haven’t truly forgiven him for the choice he made a decade ago. Maybe I’m delusional because his presence still affects me this way. Maybe I’m bitter and holding a grudge. Maybe I’m waiting for someone better to come along to wipe away every last image and memory of Will from my mind. 

Maybe I’m still in love with him.

We lean against the side of his car while we wait for a tow truck to come for my car (because of course his car is somehow in perfect condition). Will glances over at me and asks, “Where were you headed to before I interrupted your day?” Well, at least he’s acknowledging that he put a major dent in my plans.  

“I’m meeting Emma downtown to check out the Christmas market,” I grumble, looking down and pushing around a pile of snow with the end of my neon purple (yet practical) snow boot. 

“I was just on my way there too. What a coincidence!”

He says the last part like it’s a good thing. My surprise makes me jolt away from the car. “What? Why? What do you mean?” I realize I’ve said this in an accusatory tone as if he’s somehow not allowed to do a perfectly normal Saturday afternoon activity, but really, this should be a crime. 

“I’m in town for the next week or so and figured it’d be something to do. I’m supposed to meet my friend Matty down there… thirty minutes ago.”

“Well don’t let me keep you from your plans,” I mutter with an eye roll. I should have guessed he has the same snow day itinerary as me. Is anything going to go right today?

Will snaps his fingers in an endearing but infuriating way. “Why don’t you let me drive you the rest of the way? It’s the least I can do and it makes the most sense.”

Of course Will has come up with an entirely practical, kind-hearted, and thoughtful suggestion. I don’t want him to be right, but he is. It would make sense for him to drive me downtown. 

The tow truck arrives just as I turn to him and let out an exasperated sigh. I take a deep breath and reply, “That would be great!”

***

I don’t want to admit it, but strolling through the booths filled with holiday knicknacks, homemade gifts, and deliciously sweet seasonal treats with Will wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever done. I texted Emma on the way over to explain my predicament, so she was able to keep her shock to a minimum when I arrived downtown with my ex-boyfriend. 

The repair shop calls me while I’m stuffing my face with a peppermint sprinkle cookie the size of my head. My car won’t be fixed until Monday at the earliest. When I relay this to Will, he begins apologizing profusely until I practically beg him to stop. 

“Why don’t we go out for a drink tonight? Consider it an extended apology for my shitty driving,” he says in a way that sounds like he genuinely wants me to say yes.  

And for the first time today, I think that maybe Will is genuinely enjoying spending time with me. Maybe this isn’t all an act. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss our friendship, and maybe he misses it too. Despite not speaking for years, it’s been easy to slide back into comfortable conversation with him today. Is he not glossing over the past, but instead, trying to figure out a new way forward for us? Ten years is a long time ago. We were practically kids when Will hastily decided that he wanted to explore the world and “see what else is out there.” At only twenty-two years old, can I really blame him? My heartbreak made sense back then, but over time I’ve come to villainize the choice he made. Standing in front of me is no diabolical mastermind trying to ruin my life. It’s just Will.

“It would probably be rude to turn down a free drink… one that I think we could both use,” I reply with a smirk before I can think better of it. Will beams at me. 

What have I got to lose?

***

I’m sitting at the bar with my coat draped across the back of the empty chair next to me. The universal message proclaiming, “No, I am not here alone, I’m just waiting for someone.” I swirl the ice cubes around in my spicy margarita with a plastic straw and bounce my knee up and down. Will is only ten minutes late, but that doesn’t prevent my mind from racing. 

What if he found something better to do?

What if he regrets asking to meet for a drink in the first place?

What if I’m just a waste of his time?

What if…

Why am I putting myself through this? I don’t need this. I could be curled up in bed right now with a mug of hot chocolate and tiny snowflake marshmallows watching a cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie. The perfect nightcap to my not-so-perfect day. 

I feel utterly defeated as I stand to push back my bar stool when the bell over the door jingles cheerfully. 

The blood rushes back into my body and relief floods through me. In an embarrassing moment of self reflection, I realize how pathetic and disappointed I felt seconds ago. 

“Be present,” Annalise’s voice pops into my mind like an unwanted visitor. The smug part of me hates to admit it, but she’s right. 

The door to the bar closes slowly behind him, shutting out the cold winter night. For a moment, Will doesn’t see me. I watch as he scans the bar with a worried look, pulling his beanie off his head and stuffing it into his coat pocket. He pushes one hand through his dark brown hair, a gesture that floods my mind with memories.

Closing my eyes for the briefest moment, I repeat silently to myself, “be present.” Maybe tonight, being present means letting go of my fears.  

I finally lock eyes with Will and his face lights up. He looks, predictably, better than he did last December. Except this year, he moves past old friends waving him over and patting him on the back, welcoming him home for the holidays. Instead of being pulled into a conversation, he continues to stride directly towards me. 

I can’t help it, I beam back at him. I break eye contact and glance out the window across the bar, steamed up from the warmth of everyone’s embraces and cheers and laughter. Tiny flurries continue to fall from the late December sky.