The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

                         The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

         Frank got a bit wild at the office holiday party. Of course the liquor was an easy blame, but it was more than that.

         He felt the stirrings of it as soon as he was led in an orderly fashion to his name card at the table. The festively decorated table was classically Christmas, all reds and greens with sprigs of evergreens and little silver bells attached to each sparkling glass. A mild Rockin Around the Christmas Tree solidified the atmosphere with wholesome goodness. A siren outside briefly interrupted the idyllic setting with its loud and urgent blare, but it faded from hearing, and the crowd returned to Everyone dancing merrily, In the new old-fashioned way!

         Already finding it hard to breathe, Frank loosened his tie, where a smiling cartoon Rudolph the Red Nosed-Reindeer peered up triumphantly, presumably following the acceptance he had finally found among the other reindeer. It was the result of the employee gift giving exchange earlier this afternoon at the office, and the extent to which any playful absurdity would be granted. 

         Sweating, Frank poured himself some water and drank thirstily as the bells tinkled. He watched as the women entered wearing the newest line of holiday sweaters. Grays and silvers this year. Of course, he thought. He had watched this spring as his office also adopted the muted coolness of Agreeable Gray, inhaling the scent of paint for a week after the remodel. Every day since, it had felt like someone had vacuumed all the color and fresh air out of the room.                    

“Merry Christmas, Frank!” Tim sat down heavily, bumping the table and setting off

tinkling bells. 

Tim leaned in with shrimp cocktail breath and whispered, “We are taking bets on who Pamela goes home with tonight. You want in?” Elbowing him with laughter, he said, “We are up to $115, and climbing.” Bored now with Frank, Tim called Bill over. Frank met Bill once. Frank had walked into the lunchroom just in time to hear Bill’s proposed solution for the crisis in the Middle East. It came as a sound, Bill’s cheeks puffed out with air he blew out loudly to simulate a bomb explosion. Fuck, thought Frank. Not Bombing Bill. Not right now. He skipped the water this time and took deep gulps of his Rum and Coke while he turned away from Bill’s arrival. 

         Trying hard to tune out Bill and Tim’s sneering laughter as they gambled on the new intern, Pamela, Frank scanned the room, desperate for eye contact with someone he understood. The tables were filling now. The speeches would begin soon. No one else registered any discomfort. It was a cacophony of bells, laughter, talking, hair tossing, hand shaking, appetizer sampling. Like a snow globe of holiday all shook up and swirling around him, obscuring his view. 

         Then there was Pamela, rising from her chair across the room, her velvety red dress a beacon among the gray, announcing the way. She stared back at him with recognition in her eyes, the look of a hostage who was silently communicating an escape. She made her way to the doors.

           The speech began.

           He stood. 

           And followed her out.

         The speaker continued with only a veiled hint of curiosity in his voice as Frank and Pamela coursed their way through the tables. Co-worker’s jaws dropped, some whispered, and everyone was noticing. Frank didn’t miss Tim nudging Bill with his elbow, eyebrows raised and a stupid grin, reminiscent of seventh grade smirks he’d once been hopeful enough to think would be left behind in adulthood. Frank stared straight ahead to Pamela as he walked, refusing to turn with an explanation to the rest of them. 

“Pamela?” Frank softly pulled the doors shut behind them.

She turned, blinking back tears. She shook her head she began looking for her coat among the others, shoving hangers aside. They could hear the droning of the corporate speak, sounding as robotic in tone now muffled through the door as it had in its words.

“Our goal this coming new year is to be greater and more successful than last year. We have every confidence in your increased productivity and innovation! So, enjoy this evening’s entertainment. Eat, Drink, and Be Merry!”

Yanking her coat on, Pamela rolled her eyes at the scripted speech.

“It’s such bullshit, right?”

She nodded.

“You smoke?”

“I don’t.”

“Neither do I, but I like to pretend I do, stand around with the smokers when I need to get out of a room. Come help me find a balcony?”

“Yeah.”

They were quiet as they walked. They’d looked at each other like water in the desert since her arrival a few months ago but hadn’t gotten much further than a few shy attempts to say hi. Frank had been looking for an opportunity to talk to her naturally, but in his role he really had no reason to interact with her related to work, and so they’d continued to have their silent communications. They’d matched expressions of boredom, shared judgmental glances at loud coworkers, and what he imagined was a general look of disdain and disillusionment in general for modern life. He thought they understood each other, recognized in one another a likeness, and he’d been afraid to shatter his cozy projections with reality, so he had been somewhat content to avoid an actual conversation. Plus, he was scared. Scared of sounding stupid, scared he had misunderstood her, and she would look at him like he was an alien or exotic bird if he tried.

Motioning for Pamela to go first, Frank felt electrified when her body brushed against his and stood there stupidly for a moment before following her out.

“Are you okay?”

She stared out at the sky for several seconds before she spoke. “It just sucks. This is my first corporate Christmas party. I guess I didn’t get the memo on stuffy ass attire. I thought red was a Christmas color?! Natalie and Brandy were snickering when I walked up, none of the women at the table would acknowledge me, and Tim whispered something about a bet when I walked by to Bill, who then looked at me and laughed. I try really hard, you know? But it’s like a puzzle I can’t solve. Maybe they see through me? Maybe they just sense I am not one of them. Maybe they even know I don’t really want to be, and they hate me for it. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

“Me too. Yes, I get it. I’ve always felt a bit like a foreigner in a strange land. A new-age massage therapist told me once she could tell I was a “new soul”, and if it felt like I didn’t quite understand the world, this was why. I’m not sure if it is true, but I like the idea.”

“I guess I knew that somehow.” She glanced at him shyly.

“Listen, I don’t know how to solve all these world problems tonight. But I do know how to make killer tacos that I can guarantee will be more flavorful than anything they are going to have in there. And I love your red dress, in fact, I thought of it as a “beacon among the gray”. Nothing sounds better than getting out of here and I can’t think of anyone I’d understand better to escape with. Fuck ‘Em.”

Laughing, Pamela nodded yes. “That sounds really nice.”

As they made their way from the balcony, Frank looked back at the sky, stars glittering, and could sense a space for him, for Pamela, for others like them, out there in the holy, silent night.