Christmas On Aisle 8

“I cannot spend another night sleeping next to beans! We better get out today!”

 “Good morning to you too!” He shouts back from a few aisles over. “You’re welcome to join me here!”

With a half grunt, half scream I walk to the window. I slam my fists against the frosty glass, cursing the storm that has trapped me here. My thoughts drift back to how it all happened. 

Two days ago I was on my way to the family cabin. I spent weeks trying to get out of this trip, now I’m kicking myself for waiting until the last minute to travel. The drive from Cincinnati to Chicago is only about 5 hours but I took every opportunity for a detour. On the last leg of the trip I saw a sign for “Cylde’s famous wine” at a market off the next exit.  An untouched dusting of snow covered the off ramp making it much more slick than the highway. Blasting Taylor Swift, trying to hype myself up for family time, I didn’t slow down enough on the turn. People say they feel a crash happen in slow motion but mine happened in real time- real fast. Before I could even think of how to counter the tires skidding, I was practically sideways in the ditch. 

I dangled there with my right elbow on the arm rest of the passenger seat trying to hold myself up. The Reputation album moved on to “Look What You Made Me Do” and the irony was simply too much. Despite resenting my family for planning the trip, I did this to myself and I had no idea how to get myself out. I smacked the radio off with my free hand. Climbing out my window was literally a painful embarrassment. My phone had no service and I didn’t want to wait there for the next car that might come sliding around the corner. I grabbed my purse’s strap off the headrest, put on the gloves it held and zipped my phone inside.

An excruciating 2 hours later I arrived at “The Corner Pantry.” My toes froze in the first 10 minutes and I thought I wasn’t going to make it. Perhaps I let myself get too dramatic but I crashed through the door screaming, “Help!” I collapsed on a welcome mat that seems more appropriate for a home than a grocery store. A redheaded man in a green apron leapt over the counter and immediately put my head in his lap. 

“Good Lord ma’am, are you alright? Hello, can you speak? Are you hurt? Where did you come from? Should I call 911?” 

I was wholly frozen then staring up at this guy flooding me with questions. I blinked in bewilderment, grinned and said through shivering teeth, “If I couldn’t speak how could I answer all your questions.” 

He sighs and slouches in relief. “Okay one at a time then, are you hurt?”

“Not– really– sure,” I stutter. “I can’t feel my toes so I don’t know if they’re still there. M-m-m-my back is pretty sore from the crash.”

“Crash, where did you crash? You walked here? How long were you out there? Was someone else in the car? Was there another car? I should definitely call 911, right? Did you hit your head?” At that last question he strokes my head, investigating. I put my hand over his and grimaced. “Right, too many questions. Sorry.” he said with another deep breath. He seems to count it this time with little head nods. “Okay let's start with getting you warmed up.” He sat me up but when I tried to stand my legs buckled like a new baby deer. “Do you mind?” He asked, putting an arm behind my knees. I shook my head and wrapped my arms around his neck.

He carried me behind the counter and placed me in a camping chair. He looked me up and down and scowled, “We should probably get you out of those clothes.” That made me pause, cross my arms and wonder if I was an idiot for being alone with this guy in a random podunk store. 

“I just mean ‘cuz you're all wet and you’ll never get proper warm if you're wet.” 

I cross my arms a little tighter and start to look around in case I do need to defend myself with something. He throws a hand up, “Look I’m not trying to be weird I’m just trying to help.” He passes me a coat from the stool by the register and I snatch it. “Alright that's a start at least. How about the boots and gloves? Can I at least help you out of those? I got fresh socks and mittens on aisle 12.” I put the coat over me like a blanket staring at him with accusing eyes. He kneels down gingerly, reaches for my boot and I don’t stop him. He takes them off, then my soggy socks all while holding my stare. He put a hand out for my gloves. I take them off under the coat and poke them both out one side for him to take. “My name is Alaric by the way and honestly, I just want to help you. So I’ll give you a minute to take that wet stuff off alone.” He places my things neatly next to me and holds his stare a beat longer. His eyes are a bright shade of green I haven’t seen in months.

“I’ll be right back.” He said slowly, like a promise and backed away.

*******************************

“Quiet Sloane is scary, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Alaric asks here in the present. Arms crossed and leaning against the window next to mine he waits for me to snap out of it.

I put my head on the cold glass and ask, “What’s going on with that pretty phone line of yours?”

“Still down,” he answers “I figure the snow will stop today so tomorrow I can walk to town.”

I bang my head against the window with each word, “I. want. to. get. out. of. Here.”

“To go where?” He snaps. “To that awful party with your awful family you keep whining about?” 

I take a step forward and point aggressively in his face, “You don't know anything about me or my family. I’m only ‘whining’ as you say because I’m gonna be stuck here alone on Christmas. That is what is awful!” 

Clenching his jaw he grabs my finger and shouts, “You are not alone!” After a pause he nods rhythmically counting a deep breath, then his face and grip soften. “You are not alone. If you think the time we’ve had together, all the stories we’ve told these last two days and all the laughs we’ve shared drunk on exhaustion are awful, then you're right I really don’t know you.” He drops my hand and his head simultaneously. This time when he walks away my chest tightens with regret.  While I’m glad to have missed the annual argument between my dad and sisters, this moment stings in a different way. I sink down and put my head on my knees. I guess it’s not truly Christmas Eve if someone isn’t crying in the corner. 

We spend the next few hours sulking alone. I finally swallow my pride and grab a crossword magazine off the end cap between aisle 7 and 8. I find him lying in his little nest, next to the cookies. The night I got here, when we realized we were trapped, he took all the “Corner Pantry” branded sweatshirts and blankets off the racks to make each of us a bed. He seemed offended when I insisted we sleep on different rows. Now I regret that too because his arrangement looks way more comfortable than mine. 

I drop the magazine on the tile next to him and he shoots up startled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought we could try this since we finished the word search book.”

“Crosswords are awful,” he says in a mock whining voice. 

I scoff and sit down leaning my back against his back. “Look, I’m really sorry I upset you. I just-”

“I don’t care enough to be upset,” he interrupts. “Figured we could stop wasting each other's time is all.” 

I tip my head back to lean on his shoulder. “Come on, don't be like that.”

“Don’t be like what?” He slurs standing up. I nearly fell back with how quick he moved away. “Tomorrow I’ll walk to town and find a tow then you'll be on your way. You'll never see me again. This will become a story you tell over bad cocktails at next year’s big Christmas Eve party. So why would I let myself care about the girl who came stumbling into my shop during a random blizzard?” He turns to disappear again then says over his shoulder, “get out of dad’s aisle.”

I sit there stunned, noticing his dads face on the wine bottles in front of me. I grab a bottle then head back to my spot between the beans and noodles. When I realize I can’t uncork this bottle I pivot to go to the back of the shop. There's a small display of kitchen utensils and handmade pottery dishes for sale. I take a bottle opener to the front and find Alaric sitting in his stool doing the crossword on the counter.” I put the wine opener on the page he’s working on and say, “How much? I hear you got the best wine in the greater Chicago area.”

Without looking up he handed the opener back to me and said, “$2.50 for this and $30 for the bottle.” 

I grunted, slammed my credit card on the counter and said, “Take what I owe you for the whole weekend when your systems come back online.”

As I walked away he said, “The lodging fee is a doozy.”

I tried to roll up a sweatshirt into its hood for a pillow like he did. It wasn’t perfect but it was better with his influence. I drank too much too fast straight out of the bottle. They weren’t kidding, this is the best wine I’ve ever had. I looked at Clyde's face on the sticker again but this time I swear he looks disappointed in me. I laid down and stared at the exposed ceiling as if there were answers inscribed in the wood. Will I see my family for Christmas? Did they send a search party for me? Did they even notice I never arrived? Is my car totaled? How could I mend the mess I made with Alaric? Why does he close off so intensely? I sat up just enough for another few swigs. The questions kept rolling. Sip. I started listing my regrets. Sip. The last few months, the last few days, the list kept getting longer. Sip. I try to envision if my life were completely different. The ceiling becomes a sort of projection screen for my daydream. I wasn’t born to Nan and Stephen Wetzel in Cincinnati. I didn’t grow up in a tiny cramped apartment with my 3 younger sisters and baby brother. My dad never opened a law firm. He never became a workaholic leaving my mom to work through her depression while raising all of us alone. He never found success and bought that high rise. I never became a partner at his firm. No, none of that. Instead I was born here, in Stone Hollow. I grew up coming to The Corner Pantry and was best friends with the owner's son. We would run up and down the aisles eating cookies. We would laugh till our stomachs hurt, not out of tired delirium simply out of joy. Maybe we eventually even-

The images fade away as I hear sharp sniffles from the front of the store. Is Alaric crying? I sit all the way up and throw the blanket off me like it is hindering my hearing. I hear him sniffle again, clear his throat and pound the cash register. I run to the end of the aisle. When he sees me he whips around and wipes his face.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t, I mean don’t, I…Uhg I don’t know just forget it. Forget me.”

Ignoring any sense of decorum I climb on the counter and put my hand on his back. “I think we are way past forgetting each other.” He jumps at my touch but when he sees me keeling here he chuckles, “That’s not very slick.”

“I do recall you jumped over this exact spot the night I came in.” I pause, a warmth rushes over me at that memory and I think he feels it too. “I guess that move was pretty slick though. I never did thank you for how you took care of me that night.” We finally made eye contact and I spit out “Thank you!” as the heat becomes too much. Embarrassed at how loud that came out, I sat criss-crossed on the counter and fidgeted with the strings on the bottom of my jeans. He sits in the stool, stares at me for a moment then tears well in his eyes. I hug his head to my chest and he quietly sobs. I bite my lip trying to keep my heart from breaking for him. He starts to hyperventilate. I hold his face in my hands, wipe his tears with my thumbs, and lean down to put my forehead on his. “I’m here, you are not alone, breathe with me.” I take a deep breath hold it and let it out. His breathing doesn’t change. I take another deep breath and hold it while I count “One two three four five.” I breath out. The next time he breathes in with me, I count, “One two three four five.” We breathe out together. We do this a couple more times then he opens his eyes. No more tears in them, just a beautiful soul I’m craving to know.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I kiss his forehead and sit up. He lays his head in my lap. I stroke his hair. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“This is the 10th Christmas without my mom. It’s the first without my dad. I really am alone.” 

I swat his head lightly and say, “No you are not.” He doesn’t say anything or budge. “Can you tell me about them?”

He lays there for nearly an hour telling me how his parents met and fell in love. “The first home they bought was tiny. Ma, who was a baker, complained one day that the corner pantry was too small. A week later my dad brought her here and said ‘Here is the corner pantry of our dreams.’ It was just bones when they bought it. They never closed in the ceiling because they thought remembering where you come from is just as important as loving where you end up. Dad proposed on aisle 8. They had me a year later. We did everything together, until Ma got sick. She passed away when I was 16. My dad went numb for a few years so I took over. Then last year…” He trailed off then stayed silent. 

“It’s a beautiful place. I can see them both here. I can feel them both here.” I squeeze his head gently. He stands up and pulls me into a firm hug. I want to hold him together. I want to take some of this hurt away from him. Who am I to complain about my family? I feel so guilty for whining about them all weekend. I wrap my legs around his waist so we can embrace fully. We stay there until our heart beats match. Then he pulls back slightly. We’re so close we can’t really make eye contact but I notice when he looks down at my lips. I tilt my chin up in permission and he kisses me softly. We take deep breaths together between slow pecks. I’m not sure if it’s the breathing or the butterflies but I get dizzy and pull away. 

He whispers, “I’m sorry are you-”

“Happy,” I say before he can worry. “Really really happy.” I chuckle then grimace. “No, sorry, not happy. I’m sad, I’m so so sad for you. I’m sad for your loss and for your loneliness. But I’m so, so happy that this stupid blizzard brought me to you. It’s all mixed up”

He smiles a new kind of smile. “I thought it was the wine that brought you here.” 

“I guess that means it was really your dad all along?” He chuckles. It is the absolute best sound. I hate that we wasted today arguing. “I’m sorry about today. I’m sorry I didn’t ask about your family sooner but only complained about mine. I’m sorry I upset you, that’s the last thing I want. Today has actually been awful. But the other days, all of our time…” My words speed up. “This might be the wine talking cuz yeah, wow it’s good, but I think- I don’t know this is crazy but I think I might be….” I get dizzy again with panic this time. 

He gives me a quick kiss and says, “I’m falling for you too.” 

I nod and pull him in. His kisses are faster for a beat then he breaks off. He holds his arms in a cradle position and asks with a wink, “Do you mind?” I stick my legs out straight so he can carry me just like he did the first night. This time he takes me to his nest on aisle 8. 

  The next morning we wake slowly in each other's arms. He kisses my cheek and says, “Merry Christmas Sloane.”

“Merry Christmas Alaric, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”