by Jackie Lau
And now I know what it’s like to snuggle her for warmth...and to snuggle her just because. Now I know what it feels like to be inside her. Now I know what it feels like to make a gingerbread house with her, to pepper her with kisses throughout the day.
Oh, God, I’m so screwed.
But it’s Christmas Day, and I have a job to do. I’ve got to wear a T-Rex costume and dance to Christmas songs sung by a barbershop quartet.
I’m such a weirdo, I know.
A noble weirdo: I let Caitlin go.
It’s for the best, isn’t it? She’ll see that soon enough.
Chapter 11
Caitlin
I rarely let myself burst into tears, even when everything seems impossible.
But when I collapse on my expensive sectional couch in my living room, I let the tears come.
I have nearly everything I could want in life, including more money than I need. No, I can’t afford a private jet and have it take me around the world, but who the hell needs a private jet? I own a nice house in Cabbagetown—I’ve always loved the old Victorian houses here. It’s not as big as what I could have bought. I’m only one person; why do I need a mansion?
I have a nice house, and I take nice vacations, though I usually spend half of them on my laptop and phone.
But money can’t buy the love of the man I want.
I start crying harder as I realize the truth: I love Wes.
Most people think I’m smart, but I must be pretty stupid not to have seen what was right in front of my face. Wes is amazing and I’ve known him for years—how did it take me so long?
He doesn’t feel the same way about me, though.
Oh, sure, he claimed I was too good for him, but he was just trying to let me down gently. I didn’t realize it at first; I told him to stop being an idiot.
But then everything slipped into place. He likes me as a friend, and he’s happy for me to warm his bed, but he’s not interested in anything more.
That happens. I run a dating site; I know feelings and attraction can be one-sided.
I’ve gotten far in life by working hard, but hard work won’t get me Wes Cheng.
I need to move on.
Unfortunately, I doubt I’ll be interested in picking someone up at Eugene’s party next week. I won’t be ready to take my clothes off for a new guy by then. I’ll ring in the New Year without anyone to kiss, and I’ll spend the rest of Christmas alone.
I head upstairs to take a shower, and as the warm water sluices over my skin, I take deep breaths and tell myself it’ll all be okay.
I’m Caitlin Ng, and I can conquer the world.
* * *
After I get dressed, I call Eugene—who doesn’t celebrate Christmas, so he’s not busy today—to tell him I’m going to his party on New Year’s Eve.
“I know,” he says. “You texted me on Thursday.”
“Did I?” Man, I’m so out of it.
“Yeah, you sure did. What’s up?”
For some reason, it all just comes pouring out of me. The snowstorm, going to Wes’s apartment. Eugene laughs his head off at the “snuggling for warmth” part. It’s good to talk to someone who’s known both of us for twelve long years.
Then I get to this morning. I tell Eugene about how I took a risk and told Wes what I wanted.
“But he shot me down.” I sigh. “He was trying to be nice, saying I was too good for him, but I know he just doesn’t feel that way about me. Even though, dammit—”
“No, he’s in love with you,” Eugene says. “He’s always been in love with you.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I can’t believe you never noticed. He thinks he’s good at hiding it, but he’s not. Why do you think he’s never had a relationship that lasted more than a month? Because none of those women were you, and you’re the only one he wants.”
My head is spinning. Wes has always been in love with me?
No, that couldn’t be.
“This is all conjecture on your part,” I say.
“No, it’s not. After many years of watching this farce, I confronted him last year, and he told me the same thing he told you—that you were too good for him, and he could never say anything. He said you needed some guy who could buy you diamond necklaces and whisk you away to Paris for a weekend.”
“I don’t want any of that,” I protest. “I mean, I can afford those things myself. I don’t need a man for that. I need a guy to make me laugh and remind me not to work for twelve hours straight and get me to help him make a gingerbread house that teeters on the brink of collapse. I need a guy I can really talk to and be with just as a regular woman, not a CEO.”
I’m the woman who understands exactly what other women wanted in their love lives, yet could never sort out her own. I was never quite sure of what I wanted in a man.
Until now.
“Wes has never been weird around me because of my success,” I say. “That’s one of the things I like about him, but you’re saying he truly thinks I’m too good for him?”
“I’m pretty sure he always thought that. Not just in the past five years...when we were students, too. All the hotshots you dated in the past few years probably didn’t help, though to be honest, as successful as they were, most of them were pretty annoying.”
I want to pull out my hair. Wes is such an infuriating man.
Still, I love him, and I’m giddy with the thought that he might love me, too.
I rein in my feelings and try to think logically.
Okay. All is not lost. I just need to get him to stop being a bonehead. I’ve done many difficult things in life. This should be manageable.
“Thank you,” I tell Eugene, then end the phone call.
Hopefully, when I go to Eugene’s party next weekend, it will be with Wes by my side. But first, I need a really good plan...
I snap my fingers. Got it. The only problem is that it’s Christmas and nearly everything is closed. Where can I get a T-Rex costume at this late hour?
Ah. I know who might own one.
Chapter 12
Wes
We’re about halfway through our engagements for the afternoon. Me and the barbershop quartet, that is. We’ve already performed at two nursing homes, and the children’s rehabilitation hospital is next. Bernie’s son, who’s older than my father, is driving us around in his van. Bernie is up front, Paul (the lead) and Billy (the tenor) are in the next row, and Henry (the baritone) is sitting next to me in the back.
“We need to talk,” Henry says to me. At ninety, he’s the oldest in the group.
“You breaking up with me?” I say jokingly.
Henry’s face turns serious.
Shit. Maybe they really have decided that they don’t need a dancing T-Rex anymore.
“Henry,” Paul hisses. “You promised you wouldn’t say anything.”
Henry ignores him. “Your performance isn’t up to your usual standards,” he tells me. “Yes, it’s a T-Rex costume, so it’s still hilarious, but you looked like a depressed T-Rex during ‘Angels We Have Heard on High.’ It didn’t fit the spirit of the song.”
He has a point. I’ve been going through the motions today. I’m not in the mood for Christmas after turning down Caitlin this morning. I didn’t think anyone would notice, though, since I’m wearing a gigantic costume much of the time.
But everyone murmurs their agreement.
“We’d appreciate if you could take things up a notch,” Bernie says, “but more than anything, we’re concerned about you. Why are you in a bad mood on Christmas?”
Four elderly men stare at me through their glasses.
“Um.” I scratch the back of my neck. “It’s nothing.”
“No, it’s something,” Henry says.
“Lady troubles.” Billy nods sagely. “I bet that’s it.”
“That woman who came to our performance during the snowstorm,” Bernie says. “It’s her, isn’t it? She turn you down?”
“No,” I s
ay miserably. “She wants to be with me.”
“And what’s the problem?” Henry asks. “You don’t like her that way, and you had to let her down easy?”
“You were afraid you wouldn’t be able to...perform?” Billy asks. “You know there’s Viagra for that.”
“Billy!” Paul says. “He’s thirty years old, not ninety. I don’t think that’s a concern.”
This is followed by a five-minute conversation about erections and aging, which I can’t say I needed, but I’m not cringing near as much as Bernie’s son, who finally cuts Bernie off by shouting, “I don’t need to learn about my father’s sex life!”
“Okay, okay,” Bernie says. “Between the five of us, we have over four hundred years of life experience. Surely we can help you sort this out. What’s the problem with this nice young lady wanting to be with you?”
“She’s too good for me. I’m nothing like the guys she’s dated.”
“Is she a princess?” Billy asks, with complete seriousness.
“No, she’s a CEO.”
“Women can do anything these days,” Paul says. “I mean, they always could, we just tried to stop them. My granddaughter Libby is a surgeon!”
They spend the next five minutes bragging about their granddaughters, which is much better than listening to them talk about erections.
Finally, Bernie says, “Enough! Back to Wes’s problem.” He turns to me. “You need to get your head out of your ass, young man. Who are you to decide that you’re too good for her? She already decided that’s not true. Listen to her.” The other men murmur their agreement. “I know how you feel, though. I thought my Margaret was too good for me, too. But did I sulk around in an inflatable dinosaur costume? No. I asked her to marry me, and I’ve spent every day since—three hundred and sixty five days times sixty-five years—showing that I love her and proving that I deserve her. I might be a crotchety old man, but I believe she made the right choice, because nobody loves her like I do.”
“That was really touching, Dad,” his son says.
They continue to talk, but I’m not really listening.
Bernie’s right. Who am I to tell Caitlin that she doesn’t know what’s best for her, when she knows herself better than anyone? The woman I love is incredibly smart, and if she thinks we would make a good couple, then I’m sure she’s right. And she deserves better than to be subjected to my insecurities.
Instead of slinking away, I’m going to be the man she deserves. I’m going to be proud of what I’ve made of myself.
“Could you let me off right here?” I ask. “I have a woman to win back.”
“No way,” Bernie says. “You’re coming to our last performance. We’re counting on you. Seriously, Wes, it’s a children’s rehab hospital. Don’t bail on the children!”
Well, okay. He’s right. I must fulfill my obligations, and then I’m going to see Caitlin.
“But good for you for getting your head out of your ass.”
* * *
I dance my heart out for the children and their parents. After we finish our set—to lots of applause—I get Bernie’s son to drop me off in Chinatown, and all the old men insist on waiting for me. Not much is open on Christmas, but you can depend on a few places in Chinatown to be open. I buy a little present for Caitlin, plus a red box to put it in.
I think of her strutting around my kitchen, singing “All I Want for Christmas Is You” a little off-tune, and the way she dumped too many sprinkles on the shortbread cookies.
I think of how cool and professional she looks when she does interviews on TV.
I was going to tell her the truth yesterday, but then I freaked out when I mixed up mistletoe and holly. It’s no big deal that I didn’t know the difference, yet I foolishly used it as proof that I wasn’t good enough for her.
Now, for the first time in a dozen years, I truly believe we have a chance. I believe I can be the right man for her.
What if I’d said something to Caitlin when we were in undergrad?
I don’t know. She might not have been able to think of me this way back then. Or maybe we’d be celebrating our tenth Christmas together.
But enough about the might-have-beens. I’m going to make this right.
I hope she’ll have me, after I broke her heart on Christmas morning, of all times. I think she will, but I can’t be absolutely sure.
One thing I do know: I’ll always love her. I tried keeping my distance, and that didn’t change my feelings. Nothing will.
I get back in the van and direct Bernie’s son to Caitlin’s house in Cabbagetown, while the men all argue about what I should tell Caitlin and whether or not I should put on the T-Rex costume.
“You should get down on one knee!” Henry says.
“No, he should not,” Billy says. “She’ll think he’s proposing, and it might scare her.”
At long last, we reach Caitlin’s. I climb out of the van and think, what the hell, I’ll put on the costume, even though it’s a bit of a hassle. But it’s what I was wearing on Saturday, when we saw each other for the first time in months, and it’s something none of her exes would have done.
The idea that I might be able to wake up next to her every day seems almost too good to be true, but I get into the T-Rex costume, wave at the barbershop quartet, and make my way to Caitlin’s porch, heart beating far too fast.
I can do this. I can do this.
If only she’ll have me back, I’ll make her the very best triple-story gingerbread house next year, I’ll cook her a five-course dinner for her birthday, I’ll give her as many orgasms as I can, and I’ll snuggle her for warmth every night this winter.
I’m about to ring the doorbell when the door swings open and I find myself face-to-face with a T-Rex—the exact same inflatable costume as my own. In shock, I’m unable to move my feet, and the T-Rex knocks into me.
“What the...” The voice is muffled, but it’s unmistakably Caitlin.
This isn’t going how I expected, but that’s okay. I take a deep breath and find my voice. “I’m so sorry about this morning. The truth is that I’ve been in love with you for twelve years, and for all of those twelve years, I believed I wasn’t your type and you were out of my league, so I didn’t say anything.”
“I know,” she says, surprising me. “Eugene told me.”
Wait a second.
If Caitlin is wearing a T-Rex costume, that can only mean one thing. I doubt she’d put one on just for shits on Christmas Day. She was...
“I was coming to find you,” she says, “and tell you that I’m most definitely not too good for you. When you turned me down, I didn’t believe you meant that. I thought you were trying to let me down easy and spare my feelings.”
“No, not at all. I really believed that, but I’ve come to see I was wrong. I was being stupidly insecure.” I let out a breath. “But you deserve better than a stupidly insecure guy—and I can be the man-slash-T-Rex you need. As the past few days have shown, we’re great together. Just as great as I’d always imagined we’d be, but I’d never dared to hope it was possible.”
We embrace, the heads of our costumes bumping awkwardly together, and somewhere in the background, a barbershop quartet starts singing “I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm.”
I turn around and see Bernie, Paul, Billy, and Henry standing in front of the van.
“Be careful you don’t slip!” shouts Bernie’s son. “The last thing we need on Christmas is for someone to bust their hip.”
“Okay, guys,” I say. “Thank you for the words of wisdom earlier, but I’ve got it covered now.”
They switch to singing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” as they struggle to climb back into the van. A couple minutes later, they’re safely off, and Caitlin and I are alone. I can just imagine the sight we make, both dressed up as T-Rexes.
“Nice costume,” I say. “Where did you get it?”
She gestures to the house next to hers. There’s a head poking up from behind a curtain, but it
quickly disappears. “My paleontologist neighbor. Now take your head out of the dinosaur’s neck so you can kiss me.”
Soon, my lips are on hers, those lips that looked so kissable the first time I saw them all those years ago. They are, indeed, as wonderful as I imagined they’d be. I pull her as close as I can with the bulk of the costumes.
It’s Christmas, and we’re together, and it’s amazing.
Inside her house, we take off our costumes and I give Caitlin her present. She opens the box, revealing a pair of New Year’s headbands.
“I want to be the man you kiss at midnight,” I say. “The man you take home with you. This year, and the year after, and the year after that...”
“I can’t believe you’ve been in love with me all this time.” She shakes her head. “All these years and you never said anything.”
“Well,” I say, swinging her into my arms, “we have a lot to make up for.”
I carry her to her couch, which is much more comfortable than my futon, and we tear off each other’s clothes and make love. Then we put our costumes back on and dance like a meteorite is about to destroy life as we know it...and then we have sex in bed and eat a box of Christmas chocolates.
It is, without a doubt, the best Christmas ever.
Epilogue
Caitlin
“Finally!” Eugene exclaims when Wes and I show up at his New Year’s Eve party.
“It’s only eight-fifteen,” Wes says. He’s wearing button-down blue shirt and jeans, plus a dorky NYE headband, and he looks pretty hot. “We aren’t late.”
“No, I mean, finally you two are together.”
“Yes, finally,” says another of our classmates from Waterloo. He walks over and slaps Wes on the back. “I knew you two would figure it out eventually.”
Huh. Apparently everyone was expecting this except me.
See, you can be a CEO and still have some pretty big blind spots.
You can be the CEO of a company known for its popular dating app and still spend all of your twenties single or dating men who are totally wrong for you.