Merry Christmas!

You have to hand it to them! Always trying. Those relatives.

Here I am, waiting for whatever. Then the phone rings.

“Jimmy! We have a place setting just for you. On the dining room table. Apple pie! Whaddya say?”

Christmas, 2022. I was so not ready for this.

“I dunno, Aunt Susan. Things are busy here lately. I don’t know if I must fill in for the boss. He said he would let me know…”

Then it's yada yada. I start holding my phone away from me. Oliver is making a face. He’s writing a note. Then, he holds it up at an angle, making it hard to read.

Emma is gone, you know! It says.

I sneer back at him. Like I know already. Olly shrugs his shoulders and turns away. He starts putting his jacket on. I start feeling impatient.

“I’ll get back to you! I promise.” My phone goes away. “Olly! Wait up!”

#

Next day. It's always the small things. The boss couldn’t be bothered to tell me beforehand—big secret. And I didn’t feel right about asking. But he was working way more hours lately. So maybe he wouldn’t need me to fill in.

“Yeah, James, have a good one!” he said, like he was doing me a big favor when he was probably on the outs again with his significant other.

“Three days?”

“Sure. You’ve got it coming.”

I nodded and rapped on his door. At least he has one, unlike my cubical. I should have been so happy.

I’ve got it coming he said.

Texted Olly.

 Sup?

No answer. Put the phone down and stare out of the bus. So quiet. Not a sound. What if I just let it ride…

My apartment building slides by; it is so empty-looking. You see little lights from balconies like they will fall off those rusty railings any moment. I never go out on the balcony. Scared of heights.

Uptown bus is way past my stop. Then I think of calling Aunt Susan back. She’s so happy to hear from me. It’s not too late to come over, she says. Sure would be glad to see you! Hint Hint. There might be something for me under the tree! Like I’m ten years old still!

Canadian Tire has knick-knacks everywhere. I got a gift card. Two. I can’t tell what people want anymore. Who can’t use a gift card?

#

I wake up in a panic. The alarm didn’t go off. Oh right! First of three days off. Roll over—gotta sleep. I don’t know how much time has passed, but after sleeping a few hours more, the bed is warm from the midday sun streaming in. I panic again—bolt upright! It’s Christmas Eve day! There will be so many crowds on the trains, everyone getting off work early. I throw clothes and toiletries into my backpack.

Texted Olly.

Lol. I’m going.

No answer. Put the phone down and stare out the train window. I close my eyes even though I’m not tired. Start thinking about Emma. Then the girl next to me shifts in her seat, poking me in the ribs with her elbow.

Yeah, I’ll just sleep. Poke. Poke poke. What is wrong with people these days?

#

“Jimmy!”

Big hug. Way too long. It has been only a second, but I rap on Aunt Susan’s back—the international we’re-done-with-that-signal.

She lets go and holds me by the shoulders. “I knew you would come!”

Then we bundle into Uncle Glen’s car. He’s had a few and slurs a welcome, his hands on the wheel. Aunt Susan orders him out and into the front passenger side.

“I said I was doing the driving!” she barks.

I slide into the back seat. It’s Ariana.

She smiles, and I can't speak. The last impressionist painting I saw made me think I needed glasses. Now I'm wondering whether I can see at all.

“You know, Ariana?” Aunt Susan laughs. “Sure you do! I thought you might like to see her again.”

I smile.

The car finally starts up. Aunt Susan has trouble putting it into gear. She curses under her breath and glares at Uncle Glen, muttering a warning.

"Don't start with me! You're supposed to take care of the car!"

I look at Ariana.

“Still working as a nurse?” I exhaled while stretching my arms and adjusting where I could put my backpack. To make conversation. I had to do something.

Ariana is looking out the window like she’s searching for something.

“Yes,” she says finally.

It was a short drive from the train station to the 1960s bungalow that Aunt Susan called home.

Once inside, Uncle Glen poured himself one.

”Want one?” he asks as we find a place to sit in the living room.

 Ariana shakes her pretty head. An iced tea only. I take a soft drink.

“I might just have one!” grins Aunt Susan at her husband, standing over us. “Sure miss the old days! Remember the parties we used to have? I invited all the old gang over, but it's just you and Ariana! Even Josh is out with his friends. Sorry about that!”

“No need to apologize, Aunt Susan,” I said. She nods her head and then makes a face.

“I forgot! Silly me! Left all the chips and snacks in the kitchen!”

So now I'm alone with Ariana. She could sit there forever and never say a word, I swear. Super uncomfortable. I have to say something. Anything.

“So, how was that pandemic for ya?”

Ariana looks stunned.

“Sorry,” I say, taking a drink from my too-warm coke.

“It was the worst thing ever…” She starts.

I interrupt. “How so?”

“Everything!” she exclaims. Then she tears up and clenches her hands into fists. “What do you think I am? Always ready for you?"

"Sorry!" I moaned. "Sheesh! It's just a question! No need to get all riled up!"

"You go off, out of everyone’s life on a whim! I’m not accountable to you!”

Aunt Susan returned wielding snacks. Too much of this in that bowl: a swirling dash of crackers and dip, teetering on a collapsible tray. I jump up.

“Got it!” I say, lowering my aunt’s load onto the coffee table.

Aunt Susan looks at Ariana, then stares at me.

“Everything ok here?” she asks.

“Perfect!” roared Uncle Glen at the TV. It’s a touchdown! He’s watching an old NFL game on YouTube, a drink in both hands.

Glad to have an excuse to escape, I go to where he is sitting. Ariana and Aunt Susan talk for a long while across the room and then hug. Ariana leaves without saying goodbye.

#

Texted Olly.

You’ll never guess who’s here! Ariana!

No reply.

Olly, are you ghosting me? I write.

It’s pretty late. Maybe Olly’s phone is off. I’m in this dark bedroom with dark fake wood paneling. How many times have I slept in this room? The closet door is broken like always. Will it ever be fixed?

Christmas Eve was OK, apart from Ariana. Josh returned from being out with his friends, and things looked up for a change. We played card games and watched “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Uncle Glen was sick. So, about that time, we all went to bed.

It was all I could do to stop thinking about Emma constantly.

#

Christmas Day. Stockings. Oh my!

My stocking was filled with E-waste computer peripherals, like a cheap mouse and a plug-in USB mug warmer. Josh and I traded grins and offered each other items we didn’t like—an inside joke at his parent’s expense. I make a big fuss about how a USB mug warmer was just the thing I always wanted. The gift cards went well—one for Aunt Susan and one for Uncle Glen. I didn’t have anything for Josh, but thankfully, he didn’t have anything for me. So that worked out.

Ariana showed up to help with getting the turkey ready. I had forgotten how much work that was, putting on a Christmas dinner. I sat in the kitchen and watched the women work, offering to help and being repeatedly refused. I was only asked to clean up and wash dishes that couldn’t go into the dishwasher.

Ariana kept looking at me. I would smile back, and then she’d return to scraping carrots or getting the mashed potatoes ready.

“I’m sorry I upset you last night.” I offered. “It’s just that I had to get away. Lockdowns weren’t tolerable here in this little place so far away from everything.”

"That's ok, Jimmy. I missed you. That's all." She smiled.

The dinner itself was quite special. I imagined what I might have felt alone in my apartment. Then I called Emma.

Olly finally texted me. He didn’t even apologize for ghosting me. Went on and on about how great everything was. At the end of his text, which was more like an email, he wrote about how happy Emma was about my call. 

Oy! That's a smart move, mate! He wrote.

Merry Christmas!