Christmas Bonus

Howard loathed the buildup that the end of the year brought with it. The jolly “Merry Christmas” greetings from strangers, the decorations and smells that took over all the stores, he even despised the Christmas tree sellers who seemed to invade every empty lot in the small town where he lived. For him, every peppermint latte and brightly colored bulb flooded his mind with memories of his wife, Anna. Memories that stung so much he wanted nothing to do with the holidays.

He could usually avoid most of the holiday cheer. He would stock up on food before Thanksgiving and limit his outings in December to work and the gym, but the one destination he could never get out of was his annual work Christmas party. It wasn’t from a lack of trying. The problem was, Howard's boss, Jim insisted on giving out the yearly bonus in person, which meant Howard had to be there to receive his.

“I’ll be out of town this year Jim. Can I get my bonus early?” Howard had asked just yesterday, with no intention of traveling any farther than his recliner.

Jim just laughed, “Oh Howard,” he had said, placing his hand on Howard's shoulder. “Everyone knows you don’t have any family left, we’re all you got, don’t try and shut us out too.” His voice was dripping with pity, as if he was the white baby Jesus, coming to save Howard's world.

Howard cringed at the memory, blood running to his face, his fists clenching even now. Jim was an asshole, and everyone knew it. When the management position had opened up almost five years ago Howard had interviewed for the job. It was a dream he and Anna had talked about many times, but it wasn’t to be. Jim, though 10 years younger than Howard and with far less experience, was the only son of Ronald King, the company's owner, which made him untouchable.

The calendar hanging from the faded blue cubicle wall showed only two days before Christmas, every other day had been methodically crossed out with a large black “x”. Christmas was on a Sunday this year, and the party was the day before, Christmas eve. 

“I’m sorry Anna,” he whispered, picking up the only picture frame on his desk. Though faded from age, the picture showed a young couple obviously in love. The young woman was beautiful and tan in a blue bathing suit, a brilliant smile stretching across her face. The man, who looked a lot like Howard with a bit more hair on the top of his head and less around his face, was standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her as they stared into each other's eyes. 

“Why Christmas eve?”, he whispered, setting the picture back down and packing his bag for the day.

He left work that Friday to a chorus of “Merry Christmas Howard’s” and “Happy Holidays,” ignoring them all. The last voice he heard was Jim’s, “See you tomorrow night Howard.” He swore there was a hint of laughter in Jim’s voice, but he shut the door quickly, cutting off the last echo.

It took Howard the whole 20-minute drive back to his house to get the voice of Jim out of his head. He was still so upset when he got inside that he gave up on his plans for going to the gym and ordered a pizza instead. After paying the delivery boy he dropped into his favorite chair and flipped the TV to one of the only Christmas traditions he still observed. The movie Die Hard. Howard smiled to himself. He had been adamant that it was a Christmas movie, but Anna would just laugh and tell him it was only an action movie set during Christmas. Nevertheless, they watched it every year. 

It’s a bit different now, thought Howard as he watched John McClain try to reconnect with his estranged wife at the beginning of the movie. He smiled to himself as their loving smiles turned into a swelling argument. “Ahh marriage, either you work it out or it works you out,” he said out loud. 

A few minutes later the notorious villain Hans Gruber made his grand appearance and Howard couldn’t help but smile again. Years ago Anna had pointed out that Howard's boss, Jim, was a wanna-be Hans Gruber. The two had similar faces, though Jim was 50 pounds overweight without a wonderful accent. It had been their inside joke at every Christmas party since.    

Throughout the rest of the movie, Howard was reminded of all the belly-aching laughs he and Anna had shared as they identified, and oftentimes made up, similarities between his office and this movie. The party with characters no one could stand, the slimy playboy who tried to hook up with everyone, and the marriage that needed some conflict to remind the two lovebirds how perfect they were for each other. 

By the end of the movie, Howard was enjoying himself more than he had in a long time. He had read all of his office characters back into the movie, and it was like watching it for the first time. When Jim, make that Hans, was finally thrown off the building at the end of the movie, Howard nearly stood up and cheered. He slept like a baby that night and woke up on Christmas eve with a renewed sense of purpose. He may not have been the hero of an action movie, but he felt like he had a little more control of his world than he did the day before. 

Howard went about his normal routine on Christmas eve. He went to the gym first thing in the morning for a long swim, then back at home he finished a few small projects that had been nagging him. He thought about how they would have all been done a long time ago if Anna had still been around to oversee his work. His final outing before the party began with a stop at a small flower shop, where he picked up a bouquet of wildflowers he had ordered the week before.

“They're her favorite,” he said when the teenage cashier commented on the unique arrangement. He hurried back to his car and made his way to the small cemetery on a hill just outside of town. It was a difficult drive, but one he didn’t want to forgo. The memories of an infectious laugh, the touch of her soft body, and the love he had never deserved all came flooding back. It was 2 years to the day she had been ripped from him, and though time had healed many wounds, the day itself brought so many of them back. He placed the flowers on her gravestone and lingered for a few minutes. 

“I can’t stay long tonight,” he said, speaking out across the top of the gravestones. “Have to go appease good old Hans Gruber tonight.” He laughed as he looked down at the flowers, and it felt good. “I still miss you Anna, every day I miss you.” He kneeled, placing a hand on the cold stone, and then tore himself away, back to the cold world he had to entertain for the rest of the evening. 

The party had already started by the time Howard walked in with his bottle of wine tied up in a neat bow. He nodded at the greetings from his co-workers and placed his bottle next to all the other cheap alcohol. Howard spent most of the evening trying to avoid people. Jim always waited until the end of the night to hand out the bonuses so there would be no leaving early. When he couldn’t stand the small talk anymore he excused himself from a discussion on the finer points of investing and ducked into the bathroom at the back of the building. Not everyone in the office knew about it, though the temporary hires somehow ended up finding it and using it to smoke weed every summer. The smell had been washed out by now and Howard slipped into the last stall, figuring he could watch the highlights of the NBA games that had been played earlier that day. Before he could get his phone out he heard the door open and footsteps as someone entered the bathroom. 

“What do you mean you need it tonight?” the unmistakable voice of his boss, Jim, frantically whispered. “There are a hundred people here, I can’t be seen paying you, someone might ask questions.”

Howard heard another garbled voice and figured Jim must be talking on his cell phone. 

Jim spoke again. “Of course, I have the money, it's in my office, just let me….” Jim stopped abruptly, the someone on the phone must have cut him off. Howard heard more garbled speech, then Jim spoke again

“Are you threatening to tell my father? What are we in elementary school……..hello, hello” the caller must have hung up. 

Howard heard what sounded like a fist pound against something solid and Jim spoke only one more word. “Shit!” Then the door opened again and there was silence.    

Maybe it was the movies he had been watching lately, but Howard could only think of two things that would require a secret payment, drugs or gambling. Jim didn’t strike Howard as someone who would run up debt, but he was the heir to millions of dollars and it seemed like there was a new headline every other day about some spoiled brat with a gambling or Heroin problem. 

Well, that livens up the party a little, thought Howard.

He waited a few more minutes before he cautiously stuck his head out of the stall and looked around to make sure no one else was there. Satisfied, he rejoined the party slipping back in through a side door in case Jim was watching. 

Howard didn’t need to worry. Jim was far from noticing anything. Usually a loud obnoxious talker, Jim was nervously excusing himself from every conversation and kept checking his watch and eyeing the main entrance. 

This is too good to be true, thought Howard, enjoying every moment of Jim’s squirming. 

Then an idea struck him, maybe it was the worried look on Jim’s face that brought back the image of Hans Gruber from the night before, dumbfounded by a one-man wrecking ball named John McClain. Whatever it was, Howard knew what he had to do.    

By now nearly half the party was drunk, which made it easy to get into Jim’s office. Martin, the office playboy, was the only one near the office door, but he was too busy trying to score with the pretty new secretary to notice Howard. It was even easier to find the money. Jim had hidden it under a pile of papers in the middle drawer of his desk. Howard pulled out the gallon-size plastic bag and let out a low whistle. It must have been 200,000 dollars he thought as he turned it over. 

Howard wasn’t a thief, but after Anna’s death, he had decided he was no saint either. He looked around the office and found a stack of old binders on the top shelf behind Jim’s desk. The binders contained yearly reports and went back longer than Howard had been at the company. He quietly pulled down the oldest, thickest one he could find and removed the papers inside it. He placed the bag of cash in the now-empty binder and returned it to its spot on the shelf. Howard smiled, it looked like nothing had been moved. His final touch was a handwritten note that he put on the title page of the old report. The note read:

“Yippee-Ki-Yay, Motherfucker." a direct quote from Die hard. 

There’s your Christmas spirit, he thought to himself, chuckling a little as he put the report in the drawer where the money had been, closing it gently. 

Howard made it back to the party just as Jim had started handing out the bonuses. He usually made a big deal of how benevolent he was in giving everyone a great Christmas gift. More of that savior bullshit thought Howard. A few moments later his name was called and he made his way to the front of the room.

“Glad you made it Howard,” Jim said, seeming to have regained some of his confidence. “I know it's a hard day for you, but this will make it all better,” and with that Jim handed Howard an envelope. Howard didn't even try to smile, he grabbed the envelope, turned, and walked right out the front door leaving the party and Jim’s fading “Merry Christmas,” behind. 

Howard drove straight to the one place he used to get away from it all. A 24-hour driving range near his house. He loved to go late at night when he knew it would be empty and swing a golf club. He grabbed a bucket of balls and walked to the second story of the range, ready for some peace and quiet. He had hit only a few balls when he heard the sound of someone coming up the stairs behind him, he turned to find a pretty young woman coming toward him. She was carrying a golf bag and a bucket of her own. 

“Merry Christmas,” the woman said smiling, “mind if I join you?” Howard wanted desperately to tell her, no, but it was Christmas eve, and instead he heard himself say:

“If you can find a spot.” 

She smiled and set her clubs down in the stall right in front of him, dumping the balls into the tray.

“What’s your name?” the woman asked, hitting a ball into the dark sky in front of them.  

“Howard”, he said, trying to be short, with the hope she might still leave him alone. He lined up another ball, but before he could hit it she laughed and teasingly said. “Howard eh, I guess it’s better than Dick or Harry.” 

Howard looked up, “OK then,” he said with a small chuckle, “well, if I have to stare at your ass the whole night, I may as well know how to address it.” 

The woman laughed again and turned to face him, “my name’s Anna”. Howard was mid-swing when she said this and he nearly missed the ball completely, shanking it badly to the right. 

Anna spoke again, “I guess I know why you're here so late at night.”

Howard couldn’t help but smile while he lined up another ball, hitting it right down the middle.

“Not used to the company,” he said, pulling another ball from the tray with his club. “And what brings you here this late on Christmas eve?”

The light-hearted banter felt good after the stiff conversations at the party.

Anna hit another ball, “helps me clear my head,” 

The two spent the next hour hitting golf balls and laughing. When Anna had hit her last ball she packed up her stuff and turned to Howard. 

“Want to grab a drink?” she asked.

Howard smiled, “This is kind of a special night for me,” he answered. “Can I have a rain check?” 

“Only if you're buying,” she said, smiling back. 

“Absolutely,” Howard said.

Howard watched as she made her way toward the stairs. He thought of his Anna, of the party and the Christmas bonus he hadn’t even looked at.  

“Random question?” he called after her.

She turned and looked back at him. 

“What do you think of the movie Die Hard?” 

Anna smiled, “best Christmas movie there is.” 

“Good answer,” Howard said and turned back to the next ball. 

Christmas came and Howard didn't leave his house. He spent most of the day wondering what might happen when he arrived at work the next day. Would Jim have realized he had moved the money? It wasn’t a secret that Howard was a Die Hard fan, and he figured the note in the desk would be a dead giveaway.

Monday morning arrived with rain and Howard was a bit later than usual to work. When he walked into the office, everyone was standing around the coffee pot. 

“Morning,” he said in a cheerful mood that surprised even him. 

“Have you heard?” the new secretary asked. 

“Heard what?” Howard asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee. 

“About Jim,” she said, almost whispering.

Howard turned to find everyone staring at him, but before he could ask another question, a loud voice came from Jim’s office. 

“Howard is that you? come on in here.” The voice wasn’t Jim’s. 

Howard entered the office and found Ronald King, the owner of the company, filling a box on the desk. 

“Just the man I wanted to see,” he said as he placed a picture frame into the box. 

“Listen, Howard, it’ll come out eventually, so I’ll just tell you now, I got a call two days ago that my son was into some nasty shit, ran up a big debt he couldn’t pay.” He placed another picture into the box. “I wanted you to know first, I sacked him, he didn’t deserve this job anyway. So the job is yours if you want it.”  

Howard stood there for a moment, dumbstruck.

Then as if in a dream, he heard himself saying “Yes” and “Thank you, sir,”

“Good, then this office and everything in it is yours.” and with that Ronald left. 

Howard fell back into the office chair. His office chair. Letting it slowly spin, taking in what had just happened. He came to a stop facing the bookshelf behind him and let out an audible gasp. The folder was still there! He nearly ran to shut the door before pulling the binder down, feeling the weight of its contents as he did. The bag of money dropped onto the desk in front of him, and Howard smiled.