'Tis the Season of Love

I check my watch; 6:32pm it reads. It’s been thirty minutes and Jessie Wilkins hasn’t shown up. 

On a typical Christmas eve sundown, I’d have been in my grandmother's antique dining room with the eye-aching floral tapestry wallpaper. I’d be seated at the ornate table at the very center of the dining room with my mother, father, grand old Tim, aunt Beatrice, uncle John and aunt Joan, and of course, we can’t forget the cousins either- the Siamese twins (Hanna and Hector), Jasper, Laura-Jean, and of course me, Mason. 

By now we’d all be filled to the brim with thyme seasoned roast chicken, berber rockfish, fingerling potatoes, baked artichoke and crispy carrot. And a quarter to 7pm, which was around thirty minutes from now, aunt Beatrice would serve the droolingly warm apple crumble pie with vanilla ice cream at its side. 

But instead, I’m stuck here at the local library waiting for Jessie Wilkins to show up to her tutor session with me. You’d think that by your junior year of high school, she’d show the slightest bit of interest in her academic wellbeing, but apparently not! I glance at my watch again and sigh. 6:36 pm and still no sign of the girl I was assigned to tutor this Christmas eve. 

You’re probably wondering how I ended up here. Well, it’s a long story. 

It started off two months ago near the very beginning of December and the holiday school spirit week was just around the corner. Jessie, who is arguably the most popular girl at Eastpark High School, and her two clones, apparently the only two people with enough status to hang around her, ambushed me during lunch. I was minding my business eating a cold turkey sandwich on the bleachers outside when all three of them marched up to where I was sitting.

“Jess has got a question for you,” the ginger-one says, her perfectly arched eyebrow raised at my mayonnaise smeared hands. 

I look at Jess, surprised, but curious about her question. If she came all the way up here with those heels on to ask me one thing, I’m probably not the one that’ll benefit. 

She cracks her knuckles. “So, here’s the deal, mayo.” 

“My names not Mayo, it’s Mason-”

“I need to graduate in what, a year and a half? But I’m flunking like five of my classes.” She cracks her knuckles. I remain silent, waiting for further explanation even if I know the question that lies ahead. “You’re allegedly one of the smartest people in our grade so-”

“You want to cheat off of me for midterms,” I say, finishing her sentence.

She looks scandalized at what I’d blatantly said, but I am not ignorant of her history. She uses kids like me as her stepping stones to make it to the next big thing, which for us is graduation. I search her face for any sign of malice, but instead find guilty sincerity of some sort? There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.

She cracks her knuckles. “Look, I know how this sounds, but I need your help. I’ve got to make it to my last season of cheerleading.” I raise my eyebrows. “I won’t cheat off of you, but instead I wanted you to tutor me in exchange for some money.”

“I don’t want your weed money, Jessie.”

“First of all, I don’t sell weed and second of all, it’ll be my parents' money, not my own. They’re kind of freaking out at the thought of a flunked highschooler as their first child so they’re lending me some money for the time being to find a tutor.” Her glacial blue eyes pierce mine searching for an answer. 

“See, I don’t want money either.” I set down my turkey sandwich and rest my elbows on my knees. “I want to take you to prom.” 

Ginger-hair girl has a look of horror on her face like I’d asked her friend to dump mayonnaise on her brand new mom jeans. “Um, no? She’s going with Richy- I mean Richard this year.” She locks arms with Jessie. “Jess, losing Richard is not worth Mayo fingers stupid tutoring lessons. Let’s just go.”

Jessie lets go of ginger's arm. “Deal.” Her two clones gasp, turning to look at Jessie. Their necks snap around so fast I almost thought they’d broke them. “I’ll go to prom with you in exchange for free tutoring lessons until after the midterms.” She ponders for a moment before smiling like she's pleased with herself. “Let’s shake on it.”

I smile then we shake hands. Hers are surprisingly strong for a cheerleader that shakes pom poms all day. 

She sets down her pink backpack that makes a shockingly large thump when it hits the bleacher surface. I raise an eyebrow as if asking That sound couldn’t have come from your backpack. She ignores me and rummages through it; don’t ask. 

“Alright, here’s my availability for the rest of this month. When should we first meet up?” she says. She has her December Calendar out and open for me to see. I squint, wondering if I’m imagining things or if the only day she really is available is Christmas eve. 

I smirk. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Three whole weeks and the only day you can do is Christmas eve?”

She looks confused and takes a look at the calendar. “Oh, geez, I didn’t think I was that busy.” She cracks her knuckles. 

I point to her reddened hands. “You’ve got to stop cracking your knuckles when you’re nervous. It could potentially cause a loss of grip strength or even swelling.”

“Whatever, Mayo. I need my legs to look good for cheer, not my hands.” She waves her hands around in mock-celebration. “Besides, I’ve read a Harvard study on that. Cracking your knuckles isn't harmful, but misinformation is.” She cracks her knuckles once more then puts her pointer finger on my forehead and leans in. “Let me know when you’re asking me out to prom, Mayo.”

“Hey, my names not Mayo!”

“See you Christmas Eve!” 

If it hadn’t been for her two clones watching me like a hawk and sneering as they exited the bleachers alongside Jessie, I’d have put up the finger.

  . . . . . . .

The doors at the entrance of the library swings open and in walks you guessed it, Jessie, forty-five minutes late to her first tutoring session with me. I open my mouth to scold her as she pulls out a seat from underneath the wooden table to sit down beside me; but when I take a look at her face, something seems to be pulling her down, gloomy.

“You’re forty-five minutes late, Wilkins,” I say gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

“Let’s just say ‘tis not the season to be jolly, Mayo.” She cracks her knuckles. They’re even redder than before. My eyes follow her hands, which reach into her pink bag and come out with a scrunchie. She ties up her strawberry blonde hair into a ponytail and I can’t help but gaze at the swift movements of her long mane as it swings back and forth.

She glances at me. “So, are we getting started or what?”

I blink abruptly. “Right. Let me just,” I open up my laptop that's already in front of me on the marble study desk. I slide the laptop over to where she is and point to the screen. “Take this small pre-assessment. I just want to see where you’re at so I know what’ll work best for you.”

She rolls her blue eyes, but complies anyway. After around ten minutes, I take a peek at which question she’s reached. 

I pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers. “Wilkins, please tell me you are not still on question one.” She cracks her knuckles, which now seems to be forming a rash. 

“I’ll be right back,” I say hastily and rush to the front desk where Mrs. Nancy is seated. “Good evening, Mrs. Nancy,” I smile at the warm librarian that's worked at the library for over twenty-five years, longer than I’ve been alive. 

Her head peek out from the tall stack of books hiding her face and beams. “Mason, my dear boy! It’s been quite a while since I’ve last seen you.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, junior year has been a pain in the butt so I’ve been studying a lot at the school library instead of walking here. I wish I had more time to come here more often.”

She sighs, shaking her head, which makes her chained spectacles jingle. “There’s really never enough time, dear.”

“Hey Mrs. Nancy, do you think I could borrow the petroleum jelly from the nursing kit?” I say, almost forgetting what I came up to the desk for.

“Of course! Let me just find that darn thing. I can never seem to place it in one spot..” After rummaging through the large nursing kit, she finds the petroleum jelly and hands it to me. “Have a wonderful holiday.”

I take hold of the petroleum jelly. “To you as well, Mrs. Nancy.” 

As I head back to where I’d been sitting, she calls out, “And Mason, one more thing.” I turn back around. “There really never is enough time. Don’t forget to live in the present moment; it’s a gift, my dear boy.”

 . . . . .

I take the petroleum jelly back to the desk and Jessie's head is down, snuggled in between her arms. I smirk and shake her softly. 

“Jessie,” I whisper. “Wake up.” She groans and lifts her head up squinting at the petroleum jelly. I take a deep breath and place her hands on the desk, rubbing each knuckle with the jelly. She doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her gaze lingering on me for what seems to be an eternity. 

After I finish each knuckle, she finally says, “Just why exactly are you being so nice to me?” She moves her hands away from mine. 

I stop for a moment and gulp before looking at her saying, “Because I like you, Jessie Wilkins.” 

“But why?” 

I scrunch my eyebrows. “Why not? Hasn’t Richard told you he liked you when he first asked you out?”

She looks down. “Well, he doesn’t really like me. Otherwise he wouldn't have slept with my best friend and call me a slut.”

“Was it Ginger?” She nods. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I can't imagine how humiliating that must’ve been.” We’re silent for a minute. “You know what, Wilkins, I think you dodged a pretty crappy bullet. You should be proud of yourself.”

She looks up and smiles. “Thanks.” Jessie nudges me with her elbow. “You’re too bad yourself, Mayo.”

I hear Mrs. Nancy's voice replaying in my head;  “There really never is enough time. Don’t forget to live in the present moment; it’s a gift, my dear boy.”

I stand up promptly. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

I put on my winter coat and strap on my bag. “The amusement park. We’ve got plenty of time and a holiday to spend.”