The Leatherman dropped out of his bag and hit the floor. The inconvenient thud froze him in the act. He listened, but heard no movement. Paul wondered if it was hard for his visitor not to laugh.
Could they hear his chattering teeth?
He sighed and finally had a brilliant idea. He’d call someone and start talking. Who knows he might even luck out and call the very person who was hiding out in his bedroom. He fumbled through his pocket and whipped out his cellphone, trying to keep an eye on the shadow.
It waited patiently.
He wondered about the direction of the light that was causing the shadow. Was the person behind the door able to peer through the crack and see everything Paul was doing? Paul called his brother Nathan.
The phone rang and rang. He listened, and unfortunately there was no ring or even the hum of a vibrating phone coming from his bedroom. There was no answer either. The call went to voice mail.
“Just getting all packed up now for the hike,” Paul said, and with his thumb he ended the call and started to walk towards the bedroom. He clutched the knife in his hand and pretended the call had not ended.
“Course I’m not all packed, I can’t ever do that until the last minute, I figure I’ll go right to bed and be there to pick you up round four?” He continued on each time trying to allow an appropriate pause as if there was someone on the other end of the call. Every time he spoke again, he inched closer to the room, hoping to conceal his movement. His heart was raced as he reached the doorframe. He couldn’t hesitate any longer. He kicked the door open. It slammed against the wall behind him.
A book on his dresser fell and slammed against the floor.
The light from the hall was enough to see what had been waiting for him.
The room was empty.
He looked at the shadow on the wall and chucked his cellphone onto his bed. His nice leather jacket was hung over his vacuum cleaner and he’d tossed his Santa Claus hat on top of that. He sighed. He’d had a good scare, couldn’t think of the last time he’d been so paranoid. He looked at the shadow on the wall and marveled how perfectly it resembled a figure; even the face seemed to resemble some one’s ¾’s profile.
Then his phone rang.
He grabbed it off the bed and flung it open.
“What did you want?” Nathan asked.
“Nothing. Never mind. You’ll make fun of me, man,” he said.
“You packed yet?”
The fake conversation he’d just acted out started to play out similarly as he looked at his nice jacket, been two days, he thought. What a night that had been?
He ended the conversation with Nathan and couldn’t help but think about two nights ago, looking suave in his nice new jacket, that wasn’t so new at all. He’d picked it up down at Rainbow Thrift for twenty bucks. Probably had sold for two hundred brand new a couple years ago. But the jacket wasn’t important. All Paul’s mind could do now was think of her.
She had complimented him on the jacket.
What was it about her that had given him the chills? She was like death, he thought. The kind of woman you want to marry, call quits to all others, give up on dreams and distractions, embrace the mundane, ‘I’ll pick up the kids, don’t worry, I already picked up your dry cleaning!’
Paul stared at the shadow at the wall, what a night tonight would’ve been had it been her waiting in his bedroom. He started to imagine her sneaking in. She couldn’t go another minute without seeing him, imagined her sitting in the jacket trying to play cool. Underneath, she wore nothing, nah, he thought, something more in tune with the spirit of the season. She was decked in some red lacy number and even donned the Santa cap he’d left out.
“Bit early for Santa to come,” Paul said aloud to his vacuum cleaner.
He imagined her reply, “Oh Santa is coming real soon.”
He couldn’t remember her name. She’d never given it to him, she just stood there, porcelain white skin, her jet-black hair was straight until her shoulders and then went to curls hanging down her back. She wore a light blue dress that was longer than all the other girls’ and had a choker on that was made of lace. Had some kind of ivory portrait on it. She had worn short heels, and looked as if even that was new to her. She’d been dragged out to the clubs, probably to forget a cheating boyfriend or that stupid husband of hers that she married right out of high school. Her eyes had been filled with sadness until Paul had started talking to her. Man, he thought, that’s when she really lit up.
Paul couldn’t even remember what they talked about. But they were smiling. He couldn’t forget her smile. She had real cheeks. When she smiled they went round and red and her green eyes really popped, he remembered he thought they were brown when he first saw her, but he couldn’t forget them now. They were moss green. They were the kind of eyes that didn’t seem like they belonged on her. A face like hers needed no distraction. Why had he let her get away with his number? He should’ve gotten hers.
But she’d seemed so genuine when she took it. Far more than those girls who hand out a number, any number just so that you’re willing to call the night’s prowl off and return home empty handed again.
He went back out into his living room, finished packing. He kept checking the shadow on the wall and laughing.
Paul heard sleigh bells and horses. All the Christmas parties were downtown, but he almost peaked out just to see people dressed up for show, but it seemed silly to him. He imagined sleighs and horses galloping through snow like on a greeting card. No snow in Richmond, it had been a warm sixty degrees today. Chop it up to Global Warming, he thought. That’s why he was heading for the mountains. He was hoping to trudge up Tinker Cliffs in the snow. Witness a real White Christmas.
His apartment was especially toasty and even still when he finally went to bed he wrapped himself in the covers and felt he would sleep easy. Waking up early wouldn’t be a problem if he went to bed now. It wasn’t even ten o’clock. He stared at the dark wall where the shadow should’ve been, then at the Santa cap and jacket adorning the vacuum.
His phone rang.
He wasn’t going to answer. He just cursed it. “I’m going to sleep people… not an appropriate time to call me.”
By the second ring he changed his mind, he at least had to know who was calling, it would eat at him and then he’d never fall asleep. When the number showed up without a name just an 804 area code, he knew he’d have to answer.
“Hello?”
“Did I wake you?” Was the soft voice the girl he had met two nights ago?
“Not really. Who is this?”
“Sorry, I was just out at the light garden downtown and thought I’d call you.”
He had to at least get her name this time, he thought, and as he did she answered. He was wide-awake and he sat up.
“It’s me, Melinda.” As if he’d forgotten.
“Right. What’s up?”
He could hear her standing awkwardly, shifting, sighing. Paul hoped she was as pretty as he remembered.
“You said you lived in the Fan, I’m headed that way, we’re going to Starlight I think.”
We’re? He grimaced, as he recalled her less attractive and fatter friends who had pulled her away the night they met.
“Is that near where you live?”
“Not far.”
“Well are you coming or not?” she asked with no attempt to cover up her frustration. It was actually as endearing as it was off putting. He had to think about it a moment. This could be his last chance. Although, now he did have her number on his phone, he could always reschedule. No, there was no chance he would be able to sleep knowing he passed it up. The thought would haunt him. She actually called and had invited him out.
“What time are you guys getting there?”
“How about I pick you up, I’m not sure where it’s at?”
“It’s on Main…” he started and realized he’d prefer her picking him up. “Alright, you need directions to my place?”
She d
id and Paul gave them to her, when he was done she said she’d see him in fifteen or so.
Paul dressed up. Pulled a nice sweater that would go with his jacket, found his cleanest pair of jeans. He had a mouth full of toothpaste when his phone rang again.
“Great,” he said, swishing the toothpaste into one cheek and trying his best to sound normal, “You’re close, I’ll come out and meet you. I’ll be the guy waving like a lunatic.”
She laughed politely, he thought. Paul hung up and spit out the toothpaste he rinsed, then ran back into his bedroom, and plucked the jacket off the vacuum before he dashed out the door. But at the door he stopped as if he had forgotten something. He looked into the bedroom the shadow still there waiting for him. He gave it no more thought he had to flag her down before she went too far.
He was out on Grove Avenue, the air was brisk, after all it was nighttime and the temperature had probably started dropping down to thirty degrees. All the windows were showing some kind of electric candle and or string of lights artfully wrapped around most bushes and railings. He laughed when he thought it would be a few more weeks before anyone got around to cleaning up the mess they made for Christmas.
He had told her he’d be waving. How stupid, Paul thought, am I to wave at every car? There was a lot of traffic, even for Christmas Eve. Don’t you people have families? Then he saw the old nineties era Hyundai and for some reason it fit, it seemed like her car. He waved his arms and she pulled right into the empty parking space, no doubt left by someone who’d fled the city for relatives elsewhere.
He stepped to the door and went to open it, when the window came down. It squealed as if it wasn’t used to having to work on Christmas Eve.
“Can I come in real quick, I need to use a restroom?” Melinda was mostly in shadow, but her chin and lips were what Paul had remembered. So far, so good, now he just hoped the rest of her body matched the dream he’d conjured.
Paul led her inside, started to calculate what she shouldn’t see that he might’ve left out. Aside from some laundry and dishes nothing really struck him except he wished he’d cleaned. He opened the door and led her in. “Bathroom is right there.”
She smiled and thanked him. The door clicked shut behind her. Paul pocketed his hands in his jacket and sat down on his couch. He stared down the hallway to his bedroom. There was that shadow again waiting for him.
That’s when he remembered he was wearing his jacket, and the Santa cap had fallen to the floor when he’d grabbed his jacket. He couldn’t accept that the vacuum could still make the same eerie shadow of a person sitting, waiting.
He heard the sink running. She was covering up her business, Paul thought, jacking up my water bill more like it. He tried to remember if she did match his memory. But it’d been so quick, he’d been too worried about how she would react to his apartment, he couldn’t get a good look, knew she had on a coat and jeans, looked like a white sweater. He leaned back in the chair and felt sleepy. He looked at the clock it was almost eleven. He could survive on no sleep this one night. He’d deserve the sleep after his hike, might even be able to catch some Z’s if he traded driving duties with Nathan.
The door clicked. She stepped out and had removed her jacket.
“Starlight’s closed,” she said.
“Oh?”
“Yeah go figure, Christmas Eve, right?” She looked as if she needed Paul to offer her permission to sit down.
He stood up instead.
“Well do you want a drink or anything?”
“Oh, I don’t drink,” she said
“I meant, water, non-alcoholic eggnog, I have apple cider, too.”
“The holiday classics.”
“All except the milk for Santa. Ran out this morning.”
She accepted the apple cider and Paul poured himself a glass as well.
He decided to make her feel a little more comfortable by choosing to sit down on his recliner and give her the option of the couch. She took it and draped her coat on the armrest. The sweater concealed her assets, but Paul was quite pleased with his ability to remember what she’d looked like, especially after so many drinks that night. She really was worth dreaming about.
“Mmm.” She took a big sip. “That’s good.”
“I know, you have to wonder why so many people get so depressed around Christmas. I love everything about Christmas.”
“Yeah?” She challenged him. “You headed home to your parents?”
“No, they’re vacationing down in Ocracoke. First Christmas we’re not altogether, my brother Nathan and I are headed to Tinker Cliffs, figured we’d have the whole place to ourselves, plus they are supposed to have snow. I really wanted a White Christmas.”
“So you can see their last footprints.”
“Huh?” Was Paul’s initial reaction and then he started to think she meant deer. “Yeah I even saw a bear up there back in August.”
“Oh…” Melinda had not meant animal tracks, and the way she said ‘oh’ and withdrew into the couch surprised Paul. He realized he missed something.
“What?”
“You know.” There was an awkward tension in the room and Paul now shot a friendly glance towards the shadow in the bedroom as if to make an aside to his audience, begging them if they knew what he had missed.
“Sorry, footprints?”
“Of the dead, it’s their last night on Earth, before they cross over. Haven’t you ever heard that before? That’s where people wanting White Christmases comes from.”
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“So you can see that your loved one crossed over.”
“Nope, new to me.”
She smiled at her apple cider and tucked her lips in on one side before she looked up and said, “I’m weird. I know things like that.”
“I’m intrigued tell me more,” Paul said, hoping to make her feel a bit more comfortable and also to gauge her crazy-stock before he committed to anything a bit more serious. It’s always the shy pretty ones, he thought.
“I don’t know how old it is, but I think it dates back to before Christmas was what we celebrate as Christmas.”
“Pagan holiday.”
“No. I think it was even before that. My grandmother says there are all kinds of rules man has forgotten, things we used to do, and things we used to know. People rebel, out with the old, they want the new, and then they find there is something missing in their life, but only if they knew they’d realize it was stuff they just forgot. People don’t like to die. They are very sad when they are dead. They stick around on Earth, wandering, watching, hoping things get settled, coming to terms with death,” she sighed “Everyone always gets so depressed around Christmas, it’s because all that pain is finally gathering, all the sorrow of the dead souls has gathered next to their love ones, knowing they will never see them again. When the clock strikes midnight they will be gone for good. Some don’t even know.”
Paul couldn’t find the crack in her sincerity. He watched her eyes look past the walls of his apartment as she continued,
“It is actually where the idea of presents on Christmas morning came from, not from Santa Claus. They say the dead would leave presents for their loved ones to remember them by on Christmas morning, soon it was tradition to give a gift to a person whose loved one died that year. Somehow the true meaning of Christmas evolved into shopping and red and green. Everyone gets a present, naughty and nice. But the White Christmas they used to want and it wasn’t even called Christmas it was called something else that I can’t quite pronounce. But people would want it to snow so they could see that trail. So they could believe. I always really liked that.”
“Yeah,” Paul finally said, he had never heard anything like that before. He thought he knew as much as required about the holiday, he’d seen A Charlie Brown Christmas, Rudolph, the Miracle on 34th Street, and A Christmas Story. “So would people be less sad if we all knew why we were feeling sad?”
“I think it makes it easier to deal wit
h, that you know there are these souls hanging around that don’t understand what is really about to happen. I think if I know, if I’m prepared, when I die I won’t have to cause so much sadness. I’ll leave a present.” She smiled playfully.
“I like presents.” Paul felt stupid after saying it. Their conversation was deeper than that, and she also impressed him. There was something very attractive about the idea of loved ones having time before they had to cross over. “Have you lost anyone recently?”
She nodded and sipped. “You?”
“No,” he said.
“That’s probably best, it’s a long walk for a soul to Botetourt County from Richmond.”
“You know where Tinker Cliffs is!”
“I grew up in Roanoke. I know all about the Murder Hole.” She smiled and finished her cider.
Paul stood up and offered her more. He finished the gallon jug, filling up her glass.
“Oh you can…” She started to offer him the last bit of cider.
“Nonsense, I like you,” he said and the jug was empty.
“So you’re saying I can come into your apartment and take what I want?”
Paul smiled back at her playfulness. He stopped before sitting back down in his recliner. He thought he missed the moment to sit down next to her. She sighed and rolled her long dark hair back behind an ear. He must have.
The floor creaked. Melinda jerked her head towards the bedroom. Paul’s gaze followed.
“It does that sometimes,” he told her, “I think it’s the heater getting ready to kick on.” Her gaze strayed deep into the bedroom. Paul tried to remember if he had left any boxers lying out. But something didn’t feel right, he thought about the shadow. He turned to make sure it was still, there, of course it was going to be there, the light was still hitting it from the living room and hallway exactly as before. Only the shadow was not there.
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