There was the tree, lit up with colored lights and sparkling with tinsel. Underneath the tree, piles of gifts were wrapped in pretty paper and stacked high all around, like pirate booty just waiting to be looted.
“Oh, this one’s for you, Dorrie,” my mother exclaimed as she passed me a gift. “I wonder what that could be?” she said mysteriously. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her give a look to Dad; and saw him shake his head that he had no idea what it was, either. Well, how could they? It was from Santa. That meant that it could be anything!
And anything was probably the right word. Because as I pulled my gift out of the box, I had no idea what it was.
“Well…” my mother said a bit uncomfortably. “Isn’t that nice. That’s a training bra, Dorrie,” she explained as my brother snickered.
Then I heard her whisper to Dad, “That wasn’t a Santa gift.”
“Sorry,” he replied.
It wasn’t the sort of thing I usually got from Santa, but I just knew my horse was here somewhere. Of course, I’d always assumed he would be waiting for me beside the tree. But, he might be too big to fit thru the doorway.
There must be a note somewhere. Like the one he left for Cuddles. Maybe there would be some horse-related gifts. A saddle or riding clothes. Santa wouldn’t let me down. Not this year. I’d been so good.
I began opening the gifts. There was a board game, a pair of ice skates, and a new dress I could conveniently wear to Grandma’s for Christmas dinner. I was starting to lose hope when Dad pushed out a large box that was hidden behind the tree.
“Look what I found,” he declared as he read the gift tag. “To: Dorrie. From: Santa.”
This was the saddle! I just knew it! With a note from Santa inside telling me where I could find my new horse. I ripped open the package and looked at the box.
“You know what that is, Dorrie?” my mother explained. “That’s an electric typewriter! Look at that,” she said as she fondled the box. “You’ll need that for school.”
What happened? What did I do wrong? As my parents began cleaning up the gift wrap mess, which seemed to indicate that the gift opening session was over, I looked out the window for my horse.
But nothing.
While Mom was busy with breakfast, I ran out to the backyard in my pajamas, wondering if maybe Fury had strayed into a neighboring yard.
“Fury? Fury!” I called out.
But there was no whinny. No response at all.
As a last, desperate effort, I decided to check the basement. After all, that’s where Cuddles had been.
But there was nothing out of the ordinary in the basement. Nothing that is, except a table covered in rolls of gift wrap, a roll of tape and a pair of scissors. The same gift wrapping Santa had used. On his busiest night of the year, he had time to wrap my gifts in the basement? Didn’t the elves take care of that?
I had a horrible thought.
I immediately ran upstairs and began rummaging thru the torn wrapping paper. There it was. The gift card. “To: Dorrie. From: Santa.”
I couldn’t believe my eyes. I ran quickly to my bedroom, shut the door, and began looking for the one piece of evidence I didn’t want to find.
And there it was.
My birthday card.
“Happy 10th Birthday” it read on the outside.
And inside…
“To Dorrie. Love, Daddy.”
In the exact same handwriting.
Oh my god. Jimmy Trumbo was right. There was no Santa Claus. Why did they deceive me like this? For all those years? All those lies. Those lies! Why did they make me believe? Why? None of the good things I’d done had mattered at all. I would never get a horse. Never ever ever.
I sat on my bed, hugged my stuffed horsey, and cried and cried.
By the time breakfast was ready, I staggered numbly to the kitchen.
“Did you like what Santa brought you, sweetheart?” my father asked as he looked up from his paper.
“Yeah. Thanks, Daddy,” I said and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “And thanks, Mommy,” I said and gave her a kiss, too.
“You’re welcome, sweetie,” she replied with a bit of mist in her eyes.
It was time for me to grow up.
16
With two days left to open, we finally had our ending to the play.
“Oh my god,” Steve said as he read the last three pages. “It’s a happy ending?”
“Yeah. What the hell,” I replied.
“Well, that’s the Christmas Spirit,” Steve replied sarcastically.
“Don’t be a dick.”
Nate really had done wonders in a short period of time. A modern-day George Bailey and his shrink. Two strong characters challenging each other on the most stressful night of the year. Battling their demons, letting go of their fears, and by Christmas morning, rekindling the joy and wonder of all that life has to offer.
I still would have preferred an existentialist twist at the end---they’re both already dead. Da-da-dum!!!
But it was It’s a Wonderful Life. Not Our Town.
The next morning, I was awakened by a knock on the door.
Oh no.
“Hey! It’s Alex!” I heard from the other side of the door. Oddly, Alex being the knocker in question was my best case scenario, so I opened the door. He stood there in what can only be described as a pair of Hugh Hefner pajamas.
“Sorry to wake you, but I wanted to get my stuff. Did she send it over?”
“Yeah. It’s here,” I said as I shuffled thru the apartment in my cotton granny nightgown and fuzzy slippers to retrieve the boxes.
“Wow, Dorrie---ever heard of Victoria’s Secret?” he snarked on my sleepwear.
“No, but I know about Alex’s Secret,” I was pretty quick for just rolling out of bed. “Here you go. Two boxes.”
“Great. Oh---and good news. Celia’s taking me back.”
“No. No!” I started to cry out. “She can’t. She just sent these boxes over. No, no, no…”
“It’s all good. Don’t worry. You can stay here now.”
“No I can’t! You’re little Russian beluga downstairs is threatening to rat me out if you break up with her. I’m going to lose this apartment and Nate is going to lose his job and Celia is going to be stuck with you for the rest of her life…”
“Relax. You won’t lose the apartment. Celia wants me to prove myself or something before I can move back---so I’ll be staying at Tanya’s for a few weeks.”
“You can’t prove yourself while you’re sleeping with Tanya.”
“Well…” he honestly seemed dismayed by this dilemma. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Can’t you get a hotel or something?”
“Look…the financial sector is not what it used to be. They’re on our asses now and looking at everything. I might be unemployed in January. Or worse. But I’ll take care of things. And, by the way, I HAD an apartment. What do you think this was for?”
“You know Alex,” I tried to reason with his particular brain, “have you ever thought that maybe Tanya is the one for you? She seems…nice.”
“Nice? She’s a bitch from hell. Sometimes, when I’m asleep, she’ll get up in the middle of the night and I’m terrified she’s going to come back and cut my dick off.”
“And yet---you’re sleeping with her?”
“I know. But the sex is amazing.”
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
“Shit, it’s Tanya,” Alex said as he began scrambling around for a place to hide. What he was hiding from, I had no idea. Whatever it was, I’d had enough and opened the door.
It was Nate.
“Dorrie?” he said as he looked at my pajamas.
“Hey, Nate,” Alex waved as he stood there in his Hef-wear.
“I uh…” Nate seemed confused. “I just wanted to stop by to let you know that they’ll be doing some major work on the roof the next few days. Might get a little messy in here. I’m sorry,” he apologized.
“I just…I don’t understand why you keep going back to… But you know, not my business. I hope you’ll be very happy, Dorrie.”
On the way to work that morning, I saw the harbinger of doom.
Shoeless Joe.
“Merry Christmas everyone. Can anybody help? God bless you everyone.”
Who did he think he was? Tiny Tim?
But at the office, another Tiny Tim was waiting in Jamie’s office.
“We need you to close the deal,” Jamie explained. Deb picked up from there
“The Character Model Class is three thousand dollars. He wants to do it, but wanted to talk to you first. Apparently you’re his agent now,” Deb said with a bit of a huff.
“When did we get a character model class?” I asked.
“We’ll throw something together for January. A five-week class, give them a few digital photos and everyone is happy.”
“Who’s teaching it?”
“I am,” Deb stepped up. “After all, I used to be a Plus-Size model.”
While I didn’t doubt she was indeed plus-sized, I still hadn’t seen that portfolio.
“But where is he getting the money?”
“Dorrie, he’s got the money. And I’ll give you a five hundred commission. He trusts you,” she put her arm around me and opened her office door.
“Hi, Dorrie!” Timmy sat there in his elf suit. “Deb was telling me about the Character Model Class. It sounds perfect. What do you think?”
I could really use five hundred dollars, but as I looked into his big, hopeful eyes, I knew what I had to do.
“Timmy, if you’re really serious about modeling, this is the direction you need to take. But you don’t need a three thousand-dollar class. It’s a waste of your money. Don’t do it!” I yelled out quickly as Jamie pulled me out of the room.
“I’m sorry, Dorrie. I don’t think we’ll be needing your services anymore.”
I walked to my reception desk to retrieve my things. Didn’t take long. I kept most of my personal effects in a Go Bag under my desk. I knew the shit would hit the fan at some point---I just always thought the authorities would shut the place down before I got fired from a crappy, minimum wage job.
But I didn’t have much time to brood over my unemployed state. It was Opening Night.
Luckily, Steve was blessed with an enormous amount of friends who actually showed up for his performances. Particularly on Opening Night. Not necessarily to see theatre; mostly just knowing that with Steve involved, there would be a great after-bar somewhere down the street.
I had sent emails out to everyone I knew in New York. With five minutes to curtain, I peeked out from backstage, scanning the audience for a familiar face. Any familiar face. But not one.
“Where’s Nate?” Steve asked before the curtain went up.
“I don’t know. Did he call you?”
“Not a peep. That’s weird.”
With all the calamities surrounding my life, I was actually shocked that the play went off without a hitch. Steve and Marc had totally connected during the rehearsals, and were able to pull-off Nate’s powerful, yet idiosyncratic script. I lost myself in the audience’s reactions to Nate’s clever twists and turns on the well-known tale. He’d managed to take them on such a wild ride, that the familiar happy ending was actually a tender relief.
“Dorrie, sweetie!” Celia suddenly appeared with a bouquet of flowers. She was her usual, glowing self. Her black designer pants and Irish hand-knit sweater made her look like she just stepped off the slopes at Aspen. “That was so wonderful! Just what I needed this Christmas.”
“I’ve been trying to call you…” I began.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just needed a little space. And I’m sorry you got saddled with a roommate. Did he tell you?” she said as she displayed her engagement ring. “I sent it back in the boxes. He said he saw it and realized that we were really over and… I don’t know. Maybe the timing was right, but he called me and I actually picked up the phone. We had coffee…” she trailed off and then ended with. “It’s all good now.”
“Don’t feel like you have to rush. I mean…it’s none of my business.”
“Look, I know what you’re thinking. But I’ve invested four years of my life in this relationship. It’s hard to just throw those years away. I think it’s hard for him, too. I don’t know,” she kept repeating.
“If you don’t know, then maybe he’s not the right one.”
“Life is not a fairy tale, Dorrie. There’s no Prince riding in on a horse. I’m a grown-up and I know that,” she repeated a mantra to herself.
“But growing up doesn’t mean giving up. Are you sure you’re not settling?”
“He’s not a bad person. I’m sure he hasn’t been a peach of a roommate. Trust me, I know his bad points. But we all have bad points. Deep down, he’s a pretty great guy. I wish you could see that. My god, if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have a place to live,” she reminded me, in a way that seemed to be ending the discussion.
“Yeah, I know,” I admitted. Who was I to say? I’d already taken him back three times to save my apartment. “I’m just saying to really think about it. I’m just looking out for you,” I added as my final word on the subject.
Oddly, she seemed upset that someone was looking out for her.
“Maybe you should try looking out for yourself for a change,” she said and simply walked out of the theatre.
That night, as I tried to console myself with a cup of tea, I heard something hitting my window. It looked like little candies.
On the sidewalk below, Timmy was dressed in his elf suit, tossing peppermints at my window. As soon as I appeared in the window, Timmy jumped up and down in excitement.
“Dorrie, I adore you!” he began to sing his made-up song. “I’m pining for you! My adored!”
I quickly opened the window and tried to whisper down five flights, “Shhhh! Stop singing!”
But he had a few more bars left in him…
“So, Dorrie, won’t you look towards me! Loving you only! Dorrie!”
“Timmy. Stop. Please,” I begged. Not only was this completely embarrassing, it was definitely drawing attention to my residency.
“What do you want me to do?” he pleaded in desperation.
“Nothing. Do nothing.”
“But I love you,” he seemed utterly perplexed.
“No. You don’t.”
“I do! I so so so so do!!!”
“Timmy,” I called out as softly as I could, “it’s not going to work. Ever.”
Just North of Whoville Page 19