by Olivia Noble
“Well, we’ve both got problems. I’m never going to dance again, in the career that I dedicated my whole life to training for. And you lost Mr. Right, possibly the most perfect man on the planet for you, who would have made the most epic name to have beside yours on a wedding invitation…”
“That’s exactly what he said,” Eve grumbles.
“So I’m going to come home,” I tell her, “and we’re going to be a drunken mess together? Got it? No more drinking without me, loser!”
Eve chuckles. “Sounds good to me.”
“And we can trash talk Mary and her perfect new boyfriend with his perfect muscles—I saw on Instagram. How does our girl manage to upgrade from a super hot professional hockey player to even hotter dude? Mom told me he’s super nice, too!”
“He is nice,” she agrees.
“Did you know they had sex on the plane ride over there?” I whisper, looking around to make sure that no one can hear me in the airport. “On the plane.”
“Oh, isn’t that just perfect,” Eve says in the grumpiest voice I’ve ever heard. “I got abandoned by my guy on the plane ride over here, and she got lots of orgasms from hers.”
“And I have no guy and will just be in shit tons of pain on my plane ride!” I say, lifting my puffy, bandaged ankle. “Screw Mary.”
“Screw Mary,” Eve agrees.
Then I hear Mary’s sweet voice in the background. “Did you call my name? Glad to see you’re awake. Did you need anything?”
“No, thanks, Mar. Love you!” Eve responds quickly and guiltily.
I laugh softly at this, feeling bad for nearly getting Evie in trouble. It feels a little like we are kids again, teaming up on our big sister. “Okay,” I announce to Eve. “You, me, drinks, soon. And we will stay drunk all Christmas to get through this painful holiday season.”
“You’ve got yourself a misery buddy,” she responds.
We say our goodbyes as my plane begins to board, and I feel a bit more cheerful to know that I have loved ones waiting for me at home. Screw David and Amy—I am not a robot.
Chapter Three
When I limp through the front door of my family home, the peaceful domestic scene that greets me makes my heart happy. Our favorite Christmas movie is playing on the television, and everyone is gathered around the fireplace roaring in the center of the house. I sigh. It’s good to be home.
I use my crutches to step forward, and one by one, they start to notice me.
First my mom and dad get up and come over to wrap me up in their arms. I nearly cry when my father envelops me in a classic, fatherly bear hug.
“Clara, don’t let a broken ankle slow you down,” my father says. “You have been through so much. This is nothing.”
“I think it’s a little more serious this time, Daddy.”
My mom’s tender touch is next, with her kisses on both my cheeks.
“Oh, honey,” my mother says softly. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’m just glad you’re home safe and sound.”
“It’s okay, Mom. I’m still alive, and that’s all that matters.” But if I’m being perfectly honest, it doesn’t feel like all that matters, and I only feel about half alive.
Mary moves over to me next, along with her boyfriend. My oldest sister squeezes me tightly in her arms. I sigh gratefully. Mary has always been so caring and sweet, and such a role model to me and Evie. I couldn’t have asked for a better big sister.
“I was so looking forward to seeing you dance in L.A.,” Mary whispers. “But as shitty as this is, I’m happy we’ll get to spend more time together over the holidays.”
“With me? I doubt you’ll be spending much time with me, when you’ve got this handsome guy to keep you occupied,” I say, glancing at her boyfriend.
“This is Sven Andersson,” Mary says, introducing us.
“It’s good to meet you, Clara,” he says, stepping forward to shake my hand. “I totally understand how you feel. My hockey career was interrupted for a while due to my knee, and it has been absolute hell.”
“Thanks,” I say glumly, letting Sven take my luggage.
“He has a cousin in Sweden,” Mary explains. “A really excellent orthopedic surgeon who specializes in working on athletes. You should show him your x-rays and MRIs.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I mumble, moving over to the couch, where Eve is sitting. She looks just as gloomy as I feel. While Mom and Dad have each other, and Mary and Sven have each other, Eve might be the only one who can understand how depressed I am. I lie down and place my head in her lap with a sigh. “I saw like three different doctors and they all said that even if they operated, chances are that I’ll never dance again.”
“They all said that about me, too,” Sven explains. “But thanks to Klaus, I have a second chance. I’m getting stronger every day, although there are still setbacks occasionally.”
“His name is Klaus?” I ask with a chuckle. “Like Santa Clause?”
Mary grins. “They call him Dr. Christmas, and he is smokin’ hot.”
“Are you trying to fix my ankle or set me up with someone,” I ask suspiciously.
“Ankle,” Mary and Sven say in unison, which isn’t obvious at all.
Everyone laughs at this, and I bury my face in Eve’s thigh.
“Save me,” I mumble into her leg.
“Let the doctor help,” she responds, reaching down and undoing my hair from its tight bun. She runs her fingers through the strands, and gently massages my scalp, neck, and shoulders. It feels so good.
Eve has chronic neck pain from writing with terrible posture, so I guess she understands the value in a good massage.
“Fine,” I tell them, waving my hand. “Summon your doctor to help. I doubt he can, but I guess anything is worth a shot. If my ankle doesn’t get fixed, I’m totally useless, and my whole life is over.”
“That’s not true at all, honey,” my mother says sadly. “You are a brilliant girl with lots of other talents. There is much more to life than ballet.”
“Like what?” I ask. “I’ve been doing this for twenty years. I don’t know how to be a human without ballet.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Eve says gently, running her fingers through my hair. “Don’t worry.”
“I just want to drink,” I say with a groan. “While I’ve been training for the production, I have barely eaten any carbs, and I haven’t touched alcohol in months. So, I really just need to drink.”
“We will drink,” she promises me, squeezing my shoulder. “And we’ll watch trashy TV, and go shopping, and go for tacos downtown, and hit up the bakeries, and fill our tummies with tons of junk food.”
“Sounds divine,” I say, sighing gratefully and patting her knee.
“Oh, I just remembered something!” my father announces.
“What’s that, Dad?” Mary asks gently.
“I sent Evie a Christmas present,” my father says. “Did you ever receive it, honey?”
“In Alaska?” she asks, shaking her head. “No, I didn’t receive anything. Maybe I left before it arrived. What was it?”
“Aw, shucks,” my father says. “There was this company offering home visits to people who live alone in remote locations, to cheer them up for the holidays. They come over and decorate a little, and some nice young person cooks you dinner and sits to chat with you for a few hours.”
“Wait,” Eve responds slowly. “What are you saying?”
“The charity is mostly aimed toward sick kids and little old ladies,” our father explains. “But I figured that my little Evie is pretty close to being a sad, lonely old lady in need of cheering up.”
We all laugh softly at this description.
Eve groans. “Gee, thanks, Dad. So you’re the one responsible for Adam showing up at my door? Mom, did you know anything about this?”
“I had no clue, honey,” she says innocently. “Your dad gets ideas these days, and he just follows his whims without ever telling me.”
“Dad,�
�� I say accusingly. “Did you know that Adam was the one coming to see me? Did you know how… charming he was?”
“I thought he was a good looking fella, from the brochure,” my dad says, with a wicked twinkle in his eye.
“That was a really thoughtful gift, Daddy,” Eve says weakly.
“I’m kind of jealous,” I tell the family. “You guys set Eve up with an amazing guy, but what about me?”
“You just complained when we considered setting you up with Klaus,” Mary points out.
“That’s because I’m a broken mess now, and no one would want me, but what about the past few years when I’ve been healthy and single and all alone in New York?” I ask them.
“Well, you were in New York, dear,” my mother responds. “Evie was in the middle of nowhere. Surely there are more suitable young men for you to choose from in New York than there are here in Snowflake Creek?”
“You would think so,” I say miserably. “But it’s actually harder to meet people. Everyone seems to have bad intentions. Or maybe I only attract the worst sort of guy.”
“That is nonsense, dear,” my mother says. “Here, let me get you a hot cocoa to cheer you up.” When she moves to the kitchen, Mary goes with her. Sven and my father are standing aside and chatting.
“Are you feeling up to going to The Drunken Elf, later?” Eve whispers to me.
“Hell, yes,” I respond.
“Great,” she says. “I am going to hunt for a really hot guy for you, and we are going to take your mind off your ankle by getting you laid.”
“Good luck,” I tell her, with a chuckle. “No one wants to sleep with a girl on crutches.”
“Clara, do you realize how beautiful you are? Even if your ankle was swollen to the size of a barrel, you would still be the hottest girl in town.”
“That’s sweet, Evie—but you have to say that. You’re my sister.”
“And you’re a prima ballerina, lady.”
“I was.”
“That’s not how it works, Clara. Once a prima ballerina, always a prima ballerina. It’s part of your identity and legacy now. Even if you died tomorrow, you would always be a prima ballerina to all of us—and to everyone who has ever seen you dance. It can never be taken away from you.”
Sighing, I squeeze her knee. “That means a lot, Evie.”
Chapter Four
“What about that guy?” Eve suggests, pointing out someone in his late twenties.
“I don’t know,” I say, sipping my Santa Clausmopolitan. The Drunken Elf has a festive drink menu, where they make a delicious assortment of holiday-themed concoctions. “His beard is a little too fancy. He looks like he spends a lot of time at the barber. He might be too obsessed with himself.”
“Good point,” Eve responds. “What about that one?”
“That guy with the glasses? He looks super serious and boring. He looks like an accountant or something,” I remark.
“What’s wrong with an accountant?” Eve asks.
“Nothing. I just don’t like that accountant,” I explain, sipping my drink. “He looks a bit like a serial killer accountant, if you know what I mean.”
“Fine,” Eve says. “How about that guy over there?”
“Isn’t that… the janitor from the bowling alley?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.
“Yes, and he’s also the janitor for the grocery store, and the janitor for the gas station. I think he paints birds as a hobby, and makes little statues of birds out of scrap metal.”
“How the heck do you know that?” I ask with a laugh. “Also, he’s like sixty.”
“His lawn is covered with statues of birds,” Eve explains. “He’s really interesting. I always thought he seemed mysterious.”
I raise my eyebrow as my sister gazes thoughtfully at the janitor. “Okay, Evie, you have had way too many Peppermintinis,” I say, sliding her cocktail away from her.
“That rhymes,” she says with a giggle. “But I’m not drunk. It’s because I’m a writer. I find all sorts of people interesting.”
“Then why don’t you date the janitor?” I ask her. “Or anyone else in here.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” she says, waving her hand. She pulls her Peppermintini back, and takes a long sip. “I’m still hung up on Adam. I really miss him. He was like… perfect.”
“I’m sorry, Evie.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she says with dismissal. “We’re here to get you hooked up with someone.”
“But I don’t really like anyone here,” I tell her.
“You know what Mary said to me,” she says thoughtfully. “She said that I was too picky. She said that if I cared too much about whether I dated a polar bear, or grizzly bear, or Kodiak bear, then I would never find a good bear.”
“A good bear?” I ask with confusion.
“It’s a joke about Alaska—because in the area where I lived, there were probably more bears than people. Never mind,” Eve says. “The point is, you need to be willing to try if you’re going to meet someone.”
“I am trying!” I tell her. “I’ve been trying this whole time. I tried in New York. I dated lots of guys, and they were all serious creeps. So, I just gave up.”
“Well, we’re not in New York anymore,” Eve says, patting me on the shoulder. “We’re at home. And the guys here are nice, remember?”
“What guys are nice?” I ask her, looking around. “If the guys here were so nice, wouldn’t we have just stayed in Snowflake Creek, and married our high school sweethearts?”
“We never had high school sweethearts,” Eve responds dryly.
“Exactly. Because the dudes weren’t that nice,” I say triumphantly.
“Hmmm,” Eve responds, looking around. “Well, what about Mike? He’s nice.” She gestures to the bartender, who is walking over to us.
“He is nice,” I agree. Mike went to high school with us, and recently took over running his father’s bar so that his old man could retire. “That’s why Mike is happily married with kids. Because nice guys don’t stay single—they get locked down by all other girls in the world who also want nice guys.”
Eve puts her fists up to the sides of her head and makes a little explosion sound effect as she opens her palms. “My mind is blown,” she says. “That makes so much sense. So basically, we’re screwed. All the good ones are taken. Adam was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m never going to meet anyone like that ever again. And I let him get away.”
“Yup. And tiny-dick David has ruined my career and won. And he can make fun of me forever, and keep telling everyone that I can’t have orgasms.”
“What?” Eve says, as Mike arrives at our table.
He clears his throat. “I didn’t hear anything. Can I get you ladies another round?”
“I’ll have a Santa-gria,” I tell him, “and a Jingle Juice.”
“I will have the Sugar Cookie-tini,” Eve says. “I’m just in love with these martinis tonight.”
“You should try the Gettin’ Blitzen,” Mike suggests. “It’s really good.”
“Sure, I’ll have that too,” Eve says with a nod.
Mike turns to leave, but then he turns back slowly. “Hey, uh, Frost sisters? This is a lot of booze. Is everything okay with you ladies?”
“Not really,” Eve says. “I’ve given up on love, and I’m going to become an old maid with eight cats. And Clara here just lost her career, so she’s probably going to become a janitor. And after a few more cocktails, I might even convince her to hook up with the janitor.”
“Janitor John?” Mike asks. “Nah, he’s got a long distance girlfriend. They’re getting really serious.”
“Dammit,” I curse. “That was my only prospect. See?” I say to Eve. “All the good ones are taken.”
“Barkeep! Hurry it up with those drinks,” Eve commands. “These wretched wenches be thirsty.”
Mike sighs. “I need a vacation from this town. As soon as the New Year arrives, I’m heading off somewhere sandy and s
unny, maybe on a cruise.”
We giggle softly to ourselves as he walks away.
Reaching out and putting my hand on Eve’s, I smile. “I’m really glad you’re my sister. You’re the coolest person I know.”
“You’re just happy that I’m also miserable, so we can be miserable together,” Eve teases.
“No way. I’m ready to join you in cat lady heaven. We can grow old and live together forever, maybe get fourteen cats,” I suggest to her.
“Let’s get twenty cats, and open a cat café, right here in town,” Eve suggests. “We’ll be the famous Snowflake Creek cat lady sisters. Everyone will be jealous of our cats.”
“That’s perfect,” I tell her, nodding solemnly. “Screw ballet! I have found my new career.”
And for a moment, as we laugh and sip our holiday drinks, I don’t feel like it’s the end of the world. Because I have Eve, and she has me, and that’s pretty great. Maybe that’s all I need.
I’ve lost Eve.
The holidays passed by quickly, and although my ankle continues to hurt, but I manage to get around on the crutches quite well. Mary and Sven are still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, so we don’t see much of them, but Eve and I hang out nonstop, drinking and chatting and rekindling our bond as sisters.
Until Christmas Eve, when we are all out on the town shopping. I am separated from Eve for just a few minutes to grab a present for her, and when I return, I see her standing with a dark-haired man. He is grabbing her shoulders, and I panic for a moment. I run forward, thinking that she is being attacked—until I recognize his picture from the papers.
Adam Wintergreen.
I move closer, just to hear what he is saying to her. And when I do, I can’t decide whether I want to roll my eyes or cry.
“I fell for you pretty hard and fast, Eve. Like, way harder than my plane fell. I know it seemed crazy and soon, to say all the things I said to you, and I totally get why you would think I was just being a jerk and faking—”
“I didn’t think you were faking,” Eve is saying softly.