Mistletoe on 34th Street

by Lisa Dickenson

  ‘It’s so cold, the temperature’s dropped since yesterday, I’m shaking under my coat.’

  ‘Me too.’ My foot slid a little underneath me and I gripped hold of Jon. ‘Whose idea was it to walk? Do you know how far it is to the next metro station?’

  ‘There’s one on Forty-Second Street, so we’re about six blocks away. How’s that?’

  ‘That’s fine.’ I brushed a massive snowflake out of my eye, probably smudging half my mascara while I was at it. Chuff me, it was cold. Then I noticed we were walking past a tourist shop. I dragged Jon inside and grabbed two of the nearest sweatshirts. ‘Six blocks is fine, but we need another layer or we’re going to freeze to death. So these are on me. Do you want New York Knicks or NYPD?’

  ‘I’ll take the Knicks,’ he said, grinning.

  I paid for the sweaters and we pulled them on over our other clothes, then put our jackets back on over the top. Exiting the shop, Jon took my hand again, smiled, and said, ‘I like you. You’re fun.’

  We’d made it back to the apartment later in the day and hadn’t ventured back out since. I’d avoided talking to Jon about what had happened between us any more because I didn’t quite know what to say, and what I wanted. I needed just a little time to think, first, and having all these other people around the whole time made it easy to avoid making any decisions too soon.

  There was a buzz at the door and Abigail got up to answer it. An American woman’s voice said, ‘Hi, can I speak to Olivia Forest please?’

  I frowned at Abigail in confusion. Who could that be? I slipped out of the flat, made my way down the spiral staircase and opened the door to the apartment complex. There, enormous Eskimo hood pulled up and standing in the thick snow, looking every bit the snow angel, was Dani.

  ‘Hi,’ she greeted me, big smile, and my mind sped about wondering what she wanted, what she’d heard, was she in love with Jon, did I have any sign of Jon’s kiss on me?

  ‘Hi, do … do you want come in?’

  ‘No, thank you, I can’t stay because I think the snow’s getting worse; I was just at a café on Madison a few blocks down and I wanted to come and see you.’

  ‘OK, well, nice to see you. You look great. I like your coat, is it … warm?’ Shut up, Olivia.

  ‘Thanks, I like your sweater, you look cute.’

  I looked down at my NYPD jumper and couldn’t help but smile.

  ‘Listen,’ Dani continued. ‘I just wanted to apologise for last night, for kissing Jon. I hope there’s no bad feelings between us, because I think you’re such a great and interesting girl.’

  She was apologising to me? ‘Wait, I’m not sure what you mean. It’s OK that you kissed Jon.’

  ‘No it’s not. I know you were with that guy last night, but I’m guessing things didn’t end well because as soon as your friends came over to me and Jon to say you were waiting outside and sounded upset, I knew Jon wanted to be there for you. I didn’t mean to get in the way.’

  ‘You didn’t get in the way; he obviously likes you, Dani.’

  ‘No he doesn’t,’ she laughed softly. ‘His face lights up when he talks about you, it always has. I think he just picked me last night because he was lonely.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered. She was so lovely, and she hadn’t deserved to be tangled up in the mess I’d created. I really was sorry.

  ‘Don’t be, I get it. I was feeling a little lonely as well, and Jon’s a great guy. But will you believe me when I say it didn’t mean anything – for either of us? One mistletoe kiss after a few drinks doesn’t override years of Jon’s Christmas wishes.’

  ‘You are literally the perfect woman,’ I said, leaning in for a hug, which Dani warmly reciprocated.

  ‘And you are his perfect woman. Can you go get him already?’

  22 December

  3 days to Christmas

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello, may I speak with Olivia Forest please?’

  ‘Yep, that’s me.’

  ‘Oh hello. Lovely. This is Amanda, your British Airways rep; we met at the Brooklyn Marriott the other day.’

  ‘Yes, hello.’ I edged away from everyone else, who were all standing around the window watching the blizzard blow sideways across the street outside. We were definitely getting the brunt of the storm that had hit Europe now, but did that mean it was clearing the other end? I went and stood in the kitchen, about to find out.

  This was it – she was either calling to confirm our flights for tomorrow, meaning everyone would be home for Christmas, or she was going to give us bad news again. ‘Do you have some news?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, hesitantly. ‘Good and bad. The good thing is that the forecast is looking like it’s going to start clearing, which is marvellous, so we’ll be able to start clearing runways at Heathrow and around the UK and get some planes back in European airspace as soon as possible … but that won’t begin happening until the day after tomorrow at the earliest.’

  I spoke quietly into the phone. ‘So, we won’t be flying home tomorrow?’ Shit.

  ‘I’m afraid not. I’ve managed to secure five seats for you and your party on the nine forty-five p.m. flight from JFK to Heathrow on Boxing Day.’

  ‘After Christmas … there’s nothing earlier, not even for some of the seats?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. The snow will still be falling tomorrow, and the clearing will begin, fingers crossed, on Christmas Eve. We also have a large backlog of passengers waiting to go home, and we have to prioritise families, elderly travellers or those with medical or assistance needs, and single travellers.’

  ‘I understand. Would it make any difference, do you think, if we tried another airline, or flew into another airport?’

  ‘I don’t think it would, to be honest with you. We’re all in the same boat … or plane … here.’

  ‘OK, thank you. I’m sorry you’re going to miss out on your husband’s turkey.’

  Amanda laughed, softly. ‘Thank you, that’s kind of you to remember. I am sorry your party won’t be home for Christmas – if there was anything I could do … ’

  ‘Not your fault at all, thanks for looking after us all. Right, I’d better tell the others.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve already informed the member of your party who stayed at the hotel, Miss … Jasmine Stone. I hope you don’t mind. We called a short meeting in the lobby as soon as we heard this morning, with everyone who was in the hotel at the time. Better to get these things out in the open as soon as possible, like a plaster being ripped off. And I’ve been calling around breaking the bad news left, right and centre ever since.’

  ‘Absolutely. OK, thanks. Merry Christmas, Amanda.’

  ‘Merry Christmas, Ms Forest.’

  I hung up and faced the room, where Dee and Abigail were in front of the mirror trying on each other’s woolly hats, and the boys were googling how to make mulled wine from scratch, in case we needed to pick up any ingredients while we were out. The plan was to bundle up and take a walk to Central Park, and then pick up some things ready for a night in.

  ‘Everyone,’ I said, commanding attention. They turned to me with smiles that I was about to wipe from their faces like snow from a windscreen. ‘Specifically, Girls of the World employees. That was BA … ’

  The atmosphere in the room was sombre. Abigail was staring out of the window, phone to her ear, trying to call her boyfriend, Dee and Ian were sitting side by side on the sofa, not sure what to say. Jon had gone to call Virgin to see if the news was any different, but we suspected it would be the same, and Carl was sadly munching his way through a packet of cookies.

  ‘I can’t reach him,’ huffed Abigail, eyes pink. ‘I just want to go home and see him and now I can’t even talk to him.’

  ‘You’ll get through, maybe he’s just in the shower,’ soothed Dee.

  ‘But even if I do, what difference does it make? Christmas is ruined.’

  ‘You’ve spent Christmases apart before, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes, bu
t through choice. Our choice this year was to be together, and we had it all planned out, and instead I’m basically stuck at work.’

  My eyebrows raised. I’d never seen Abigail get shirty before; it was strangely interesting to see a bit of spark under all that shyness, and occasional drippiness.

  ‘It’s all right for you,’ she continued. ‘You’re here with your husband, and Liv’s got Jon … ’ Um … ‘And all I’ve got is Carl.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Carl, crumbs floating out of his mouth.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘All right, Abi, I know this is far from ideal,’ I said, reluctantly putting the stop to what could have been quite an interesting argument, but Ian interrupted me.

  ‘We are lucky to be here with each other, especially now you all know about us so we can be out in the open, but we wanted to be home too. We had my mother coming to stay with us for Christmas, and I don’t know how many Christmases she has left. Now she’ll be on her own, so I’ll be sad as well, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘And you’d be lucky to be stuck here with Carl,’ said Jon coming back into the room. ‘Same story with Virgin – we’ll be leaving sometime after Boxing Day.’

  ‘And I’m not “with” Jon,’ I said, without looking at him.

  Tears spilled over Abi’s eyes again. ‘Fine, I’m sorry, I just—’

  Knock knock knock.

  We all looked at the door, and eventually Jon backed out of the room to go and open it, and that’s when we heard a familiar voice.

  ‘Hi. Some kid let me into the building. Can you take my case?’ Jasmine walked into the living room. Jon, looking bewildered, followed her in, pulling her suitcase behind him. ‘Merry Christmas,’ she addressed us. ‘It’s fucking horrible out there. Can I join you, please?’ She held out a large frozen turkey; a peace offering.

  Abigail, Dee and Ian rushed over to give her hugs, and the ice maiden’s face even cracked into a smile until she locked eyes with me. ‘I don’t want to spend Christmas alone, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ I said. What else could I say? ‘Does anyone want a drink?’

  There was a chorus of yeses and I popped open the port like I’d been hosting Christmas my whole life. I was mid pouring tumblers for everyone (OK, I didn’t a hundred per cent know what I was doing with the port) when Jasmine came over to me, and plonked the turkey down in the sink.

  ‘I might be a bitch, but I know how to make a good Christmas dinner, so maybe I can make it up to everyone a little bit.’

  ‘You’re not a bitch,’ I said, my eyes firmly on the ruby liquid.

  ‘You’re not a good liar,’ Jasmine said, taking a glass and gulping it down.

  ‘OK,’ I said, keeping my voice down, so the rest of the room didn’t have to hear us. ‘I don’t like the word bitch, so I don’t use it lightly, but you have been kind of a bitch, so what’s changed?’

  ‘Nothing. I just … it’s not that I don’t like any of you, so I decided I’d rather be here, squashed in this tiny, quite cool, apartment with company than in that hotel on my own over Christmas. Where everyone is depressed and angry about not going home.’

  ‘You’ve walked right into a similar scene here, I’m afraid. But come on, you clearly don’t like me. What have I done that’s pissed you off? Do you want my job? Did you want Scheana to put you in charge of the trip?’

  ‘No, for God’s sake, I am not trying to be you,’ Jasmine stropped, then took a deep breath. ‘It’s not you, it’s just that you remind me of my sister.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, confused. ‘I didn’t know you had a sister. In what way do I remind you of her?’

  ‘I have two sisters—’

  ‘Me too!’

  ‘Which child are you?’

  ‘Middle, you?’

  ‘Youngest. And my sister – both of them, actually – are just infuriating.’

  Hmph. I gulped my port. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘To be honest, they’ve always been kind of bitches, and I’ve always been a bitch because I’ve wanted them to like me, and I know that kind of thing is exactly what we’re always preaching to young women not to be like – don’t follow the crowd, be your own person, be nice, blah blah blah – and although I agree with everything we’re saying it feels like every day I’m pouring salt in my own wound because I know I’m the opposite. I know I’m not as good a person as that. As the girls we deal with. As you lot.’

  ‘Jasmine—’

  ‘Shut up a minute, I need to explain myself. My older sisters are in these big high-flying law jobs, and both of them look at what I do and keep saying how I need a real job, and that what I do isn’t important.’

  I gasped. ‘It is important!’

  ‘I know that, that’s why I’ve stayed! Anyway, they’re always trying to be “helpful” and set up job interviews for me, but it always feels like they’re just saying who I am isn’t good enough.’

  ‘But why do I remind you of them?’ I said, a little bit hurt. ‘I’ve never said that to you.’

  ‘Because you’re always so perfect, always the star of Girls of the World, and I can never be as good at my job as you are.’

  ‘Why not? I’m not holding you back just because I’m good at my job.’

  ‘I know you’re not. I just get frustrated. I feel like I’m always competing, whether I’m at home or at work, with my older sisters. You’re basically my work older sister. Favourite child. The one I should aspire to be like.’

  ‘I don’t want you to aspire to be like me, it’s better to aspire to be like you,’ I said, though I couldn’t help but feel smug AF right now.

  ‘I don’t want to aspire to be you either, or like my sisters, I just always feel like I’m expected to.’

  ‘Well,’ I refilled her port, ‘I think you should get over it and stop worrying about what other people think. Be yourself, just preferably a slightly less stroppy version of yourself.’

  Jasmine nodded, a small smile on her face. ‘All right then.’

  ‘So you and your sisters aren’t close?’ I asked.

  ‘We used to be. At school we only hung out with each other. We all wore brown lipstick and matching choker necklaces, and smoked on the playing fields. We were such twats.’

  ‘I hung out with my sisters too, though I was kind of making them hang out with me. They ate lunch with me, and one time I got them to perform with me in the school concert, but then they refused to hang out with me after that.’

  ‘What did you make them do?’

  ‘An interpretive dance based on the holocaust. I choreographed it myself. It was not a crowd-pleaser.’

  Jasmine chuckled. ‘I performed with my sisters at the school concert as well – we did the B*Witched routine from “C’est La Vie”.’

  ‘That sounds like it would have gone down better.’

  ‘It did, but then we would have threatened to chin anyone that didn’t like it.’ She smiled and shook her head.

  I picked up the remaining ports to hand them out. Jasmine and I would never have been friends at school, and I don’t think we’d ever be friends today, but at least maybe we could understand each other a little better. ‘I feel like I’ve learned more about you in the past three minutes than I have the past three years working together.’ We walked back in to the living room, where Abigail was back texting, Dee and Ian were leaning into each other on the sofa and Jon and Carl were chatting by the window.

  Jasmine came to a halt and looked at Dee and Ian. ‘Wait, what? Why are you two holding hands? Are you together?’

  ‘They’re married!’ said Abigail.

  ‘What the hell? I wasn’t even invited? I was only in Brooklyn, for God’s sake!’

  ‘No,’ said Dee. ‘We’ve been married for nearly a year. Now, we’ve all decided to take a trip to Central Park to see what it looks like in all this snow, so I’ll tell you all about it on the way. Did you really not know?’

  Jasmine shook her head. ‘Jesus, maybe I am self-absorbed.’ She winked at me and my first instinct
was to look at Jon, eyebrows raised, who mirrored my expression.

  We were wearing so many clothes by the time we all left the apartment that we looked like a gang of Michelin men walking down the street. Abigail had wanted to stay home and keep trying her boyfriend, but we convinced her that getting pounded by a snowstorm would totally stop her mulling over her problems.

  My top layer, the one just under my coat, was my NYPD sweater, and Jon’s was his Knicks sweater. We were thinking of each other, even if that’s all it was at the moment.

  ‘I’ve never seen this much snow,’ commented Carl, as we passed a café that had left its tables outside, now covered with discs of foot-high white powder.

  ‘Me neither,’ said Jon up ahead, who suddenly stooped, picked up a handful of snow and turned to hurl it into Carl’s face. We all gasped, Carl the loudest, before he wiped his eyes, burst out laughing and began chasing Jon down the street, the two of them doing high-knees as they ran to pick themselves through the snow.

  And that is how the Girls of the World vs. HeForShe Snowball Fight of the Century began. We turned Central Park into our very own paintball-like course, and nobody came out of it dry or warm (including a runner, who Abigail accidently lobbed a snowball at, mistaking her for Dee).

  I had fun. We all had fun. We were so far away from what any of us defined as a traditional Christmas – far from our homes, far from our families, not far enough from our workmates. But actually in that moment, wet and cold and under the shadows of New York’s skyscrapers, I realised I’d never felt so festive. And I wondered; could we enjoy a Christmas all together?

  23 December

  2 days to Christmas

  I woke up early on the day we had been due to fly home and did what I had done every morning, first thing: pick up my phone to check my weather app. I had a text on my screen from my mum asking me to call as soon as I woke up, so I climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb Abigail next to me or Jasmine on the floor, and crept out of the apartment to sit on the stairs.

  ‘Hi, Mum,’ I said when she answered, speaking softly to avoid waking anyone in the other homes.