Paper Wishes
By Jennifer M. Eaton
Published by Astraea Press
www.astraeapress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
PAPER WISHES
Copyright © 2013 JENNIFER M. EATON
ISBN 978-1-62135-196-2
Cover Art Designed by BOOK BEAUTIFUL
For the Big Cheese, for loving this story enough to find it a proper home. I will never doubt your guidance. Well— never on purpose, anyway.
Connect the Dots
Chapter One
Two Days before Christmas
I scrolled the words Dear Santa across the page. For crying out loud, how stupid is this?
“Come on, Mom,” Nicole said, placing a long fold in her letter. “It’s not that hard.”
I dropped my pen on the table. “It’s hard if you’re a grown-up.”
“Just write down what you want.” She bent and tucked the folds together, molding her letter into a perfect origami star.
“But I don’t want anything.”
Nicole held up her creation, scratching a freckled cheek. “Everyone wants something.” She fastened a paperclip to her star and hung it on the Christmas tree. The matte paper stood out from the bright glass ornaments.
I ran my fingers across my bare neckline. I’d love to have back the ornate silver and gold necklace that Nicole broke a few months ago, but I couldn’t write that. It would hurt her feelings.
“I’m too old to be writing to Santa,” I announced.
“Then write to God. He listens too.”
I narrowed my eyes. Stinker. “Okay…” I placed my pen on the sheet and crossed out Dear Santa. “Okay. Dear God.” I sighed. “It’s not helping. I still don’t know what to ask for.”
I threw my long, dark ponytail over my shoulder and tapped my pen across the sheet, leaving a wavy line of dots marring the clean, white-lined paper.
Nicole shook her head, jostling her auburn locks. “Come on, Mom. Just write something. It’s God. He already knows what you want.”
“Then can He tell me?” The rumble of the school bus granted me a temporary respite. “Grab your lunch.”
“Got it.” She tossed the brown bag into her backpack and grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair. “See you later, Mom.” The screen door slammed behind her, rattling the knickknacks on the shelf beside the door. The frigid December air swirled through the kitchen, pushing the paper across the table.
I tossed my pen to the side and poured myself another cup of coffee. Liquid heaven rolled down my throat. Well, day-old reheated liquid heaven. I tossed the rest down the sink. Coffee Stop drive-through here I come. I popped the last bit of toast into my mouth and grabbed my car keys.
The nearly empty sheet of paper shifted across the tabletop as I passed by. The words Dear God taunted me.
Writing the letter didn’t seem like a game anymore.
Dear God… it doesn’t get more serious than that.
What do I want? I hadn’t thought of it much since Bill took off on us. The pressure of being both Mommy and Daddy left little time for thinking about me. What I wanted was for Nicky to be happy. Nothing else seemed to matter.
I eased back down into my chair, picked up the pen, and began tapping it on the paper again. Another line of scrolling black dots appeared across the sheet. What do I want… really? My wrist flicked, and I wrote the word please.
I stared at the letters, and before I knew it a sentence had formed. Fifteen little words stared up at me, the blue ink solid and demanding on the white ruled page.
Permanent, but ridiculous.
It’s not even what I want. I crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it over the counter. It scooted across the beige surface before slipping off and falling into the trashcan.
Done.
I’m too old for Christmas wishes anyway.
****
A sip of my mocha skinny latte caressed my tongue. I stretched my neck, waiting for my computer to boot up. The sounds of laptops hitting desks and fellow office workers greeting each other bounced off the five-foot partitions separating the workspaces.
I smiled as the familiar rumbling roll of my best friend’s chair ended in a bang against the outer wall of my cubicle. The papers thumbtacked to the tan, mottled fabric gyrated until a white-cuffed hand gripped the panel and stopped the movement.
“Today is the best day ever,” Jack said, rolling his chair into my cubicle with a push of his perfectly polished wingtips.
“And why is that?”
He placed an elbow on my desk and leaned on his fist. His deep blue eyes twinkled. Even sitting down, Jack’s six-foot frame dwarfed me. “Because I scored Monica Dubin for Secret Santa.”
A shudder ran down my spine and tingled its way to my toes… partly from hearing Monica’s name, and partly in relief that I hadn’t picked her. “You’re excited about that? She always bad-mouths what she got after New Year’s.”
“Well, not this time.” Jack ran his fingers through his carefully sculpted brown hair. “Don’t you get it? This is my big chance. How long have I been waiting for this?”
“Since the seventh grade. I know. You’ve mentioned it twelve times.” I shook my head, wispy brown tendrils bouncing at my cheeks. “Jack, she’s never even given you the time of day.”
“Well, she’ll have to now, or when we reveal ourselves at the Christmas party, she won’t get her present.”
“How can you be such an optimist?”
“Because I believe that a positive attitude can make anything happen. Why are you such a pessimist?”
My right eyebrow inched up. “Because I’ve been around long enough to know better.”
“You know what, Jilly-Jill? I think you’re afraid to be happy.”
I straightened. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I know it’s been tough on you and the munchkin since Bill took off with that bimbo, but it doesn’t mean the next guy is going to be a scumbag too.”
“I don’t think that.” I lowered my gaze, my stomach churning.
“No? Then why did you turn down Jason in accounting when he asked you to dinner?”
“Because his ex-wife divorced him for cheating.”
“Okay, bad example.” He rubbed his chin. “And Steve?”
I looked away. The thought of Steve’s sparkling smile and tight butt left my heart racing. “It didn’t feel right.”
“Didn’t feel right? Shucks, I’m straight and I’d do him.”
I snickered. “No chance. He’s out of your league.”
“So you do like him.”
“Yeah… I’m just…”
“Scared?”
My face flushed. How did Jack always manage to get me to talk about my feelings? “Okay. I’m guilty. I’m scared, okay? It’s not only me who’ll be hurt again if I make another bad decision. I have Nicole to worry about too.”
He shook his head. “Come on. You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t even try.”
“I don’t know.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, his expression beaming. “I have an idea.”
“I don’t like that look, Jack. It always gets me into trouble.”
He picked up the unopened Secret Santa envelope lying on my desk and tapped the red foiled writing
on the back of his hand. “I happen to know that Rachel and Eleanor got each other, and Amanda got Giles, and Jason got Amanda.”
“I thought this was supposed to be Secret Santa.”
He chuckled. “Copy machine talk. You just gotta connect the dots.” He stood and paced the two and a half steps it took to get from one side of my cubicle to the other. “Elaine has me. I can tell by the way she looked at me this morning.”
“She always looks at you like that. She’s hot for you.”
“Don’t remind me. That leaves Steve, Larry, and Cole… all of who are single. This leaves a wide open door for you.” He punched me playfully on the shoulder. “This could be the year for both of us, Slugger!”
“I don’t know, Jack.”
He waved the envelope in my face. “Do you want to see who the lucky guy is, or shall I?”
“Give me that.” I stood, grabbing for the letter.
His mischievous grin returned. “Only if you promise to hang out at the Christmas party and make a little time with whoever’s name is on this card.”
“I’m not promising anything.”
“Promise,” Jack demanded, waving the envelope just out of my annoyingly petite reach. Blast his height.
“Okay, I promise.” I plucked the envelope out of his hand and waved the gold-trimmed writing in his face. “This better be Steve, or I’m going to spit on you, I swear.”
He shook a finger at me. “No, no, no… spitting in the office is grounds for formal corrective action, you know.”
I pushed his chair out of my cubicle. It glided across the hall and right through his office door. “Don’t you have work to do?”
His shoes clopped on the tiled floor as he left. “That’s okay. I don’t need to know. I’ll find out at the copy machine next week.”
I plopped into my chair and glanced at the log-in prompt flashing on my screen. My fingers swept over the keys and pressed enter. The red envelope sat beside my keyboard, beckoning.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I might as well get this over with.” I slipped a letter opener through the edge and set the golden postcard free. A deep breath prepared me as I turned the card over.
The letter opener fell from my hand and clanged on the floor. The reverberation echoed through the office, and someone down the hall yelled, “You’re gonna hafta pay for that.”
I placed the card down and rubbed my eyes, but it didn’t have the magic effect I’d hoped for. Beautiful calligraphy letters spelled out the last name I expected.
Jack Acres.
****
The scent of cheap perfumes slapped my face as I pushed open the bathroom door. I resisted the urge to turn and leave. The girls’ club posed and fluffed before the mirrors, primping like prom queens rather than secretaries and accountants.
“Good morning.” I smiled. Not that they’d notice me, them being lost inside their gossiping gaggle. I opened a stall door and slipped inside.
I peered through the crack beside the hinges. Monica’s perfectly sculpted butt jutted out as she leaned toward the mirror to apply her lipstick. Her tight skirt enunciated all those curves God forgot to give me and blessed her with in abundance. An envious sigh slipped from my lips as I sat down to do my business.
“So,” Monica said. “I got Steve for Secret Santa. I can’t wait to give him my present.”
My stomach sank and flipped.
“What are you getting him?” Elaine asked.
Monica giggled. “I was thinking of lingerie.”
I cringed. So much for Steve. How could I compete with someone so beautiful?
“So, who got Jack?” Elaine asked. “That’s a pipe I’d like to tap. I saw him at the gym the other day. I’m telling you, that boy’s hiding some major pecs under that conservative suit of his.”
“Mmmm,” Monica said. “I wouldn’t mind a piece of Jack myself. He’s the perfect pop and drop date.”
“Pop and drop?” Surprise touched Elaine’s voice.
“Yeah, you know… great for a good time, but not good enough to marry. He’s cute enough to screw, but I need a little extra padding in the wallet to turn me on for more than a one night stand. You know what I mean?”
Amanda giggled. “You are wicked, girlfriend. I wanna be you when I grow up.”
You are grown up, you idiot. I stood and readjusted my slacks.
“Well, you can’t have both Steve and Jack,” Elaine said. “You need to leave a little for the rest of us.”
I leaned up to the crack once more. Monica fluffed her golden locks in the mirror. What I wouldn’t give for her curls, her curves. I mean, really God, couldn’t you have just given me a few ounces of her boobs? Shoot… I’d take any part of her over my boring body.
“Well, I’m six for six at getting laid at the Christmas party,” Monica said. “So who should I do this year?”
Did she just say what I think she said?
“Flip a coin. I get the loser,” Amanda said.
“Okay. Heads Jack. Tails Steve.”
I rubbed my face as I heard a coin hit the floor. The gaggle cried out in the same instant and began high-fiving each other. I stretched up and down the crack in the door trying to see the coin, but Amanda picked it up and slipped it in her pocket.
The girls’ club streamed from the bathroom, leaving Monica smoothing her skirt and checking her butt in the mirror. I squeezed my hands into fists, my nails biting into my flesh.
Monica posed, smiling at her reflection. An innocent expression crossed her face. “Oh, Jack… I’ve wanted you ever since we were partners in science class.”
Oh, no.
Her face changed back to the witch I knew so well. “He’ll go for it,” she whispered. “They always do.”
I leaned back against the cold metal wall, holding my breath. Monica’s heels tapped on the tile work until the door squeaked open and shut.
The dripping of a faucet resonated through the room as I rubbed my hands across my forehead, lingering in my solitude.
Poor Jack.
****
The spreadsheet on my screen flashed, refreshing itself — again.
“You’re not finished with the trace back reports yet? They’re due tomorrow.” Jack’s voice broke through the fog, jostling me back into reality.
“Uh, yeah… ummm… no.”
“Slugger, you usually slice through these things. What’s up?”
I took a deep breath. “It’s about Monica.”
He sat in the chair beside my desk. “Yeah. I wanted to ask you… what do you think would be the perfect gift?”
“Diamonds, sports car, a yacht...”
“I was thinking about chocolate. Everyone likes chocolate, right?”
“Better make it the expensive stuff,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Jack, listen. I don’t think you and Monica together is a good idea.”
He leaned back. “Jilly-Jill, are you jealous?”
“No. Of course not. I care about you, and I don’t want you hurt.”
He pursed his lips. Disappointment crossed his features. “How about you have a little confidence in me?”
“I do. I think you’re great. It’s Monica I have issues with.”
He leaned across my desk. “Listen,” he whispered. “You’re my best friend. You of all people know how crazy I am about this girl. Why are you doing this to me when I finally have a chance with her?”
Everyone’s had their chance with her. I rubbed my forehead. “I think you can do better, that’s all.”
“Do better than Monica? Do you need glasses or something?”
I took a deep breath. “I wish you’d consider that maybe you’re still hung up on a teenage crush.”
Jack sat back. “I wish you would consider that maybe she wasn’t my first choice.”
“What? Who? Please tell me it’s not Amanda.”
He shook his head. “Never mind. Listen, I like Monica. Why don’t you give her a chance?”
“She’s pompous, overbearing, conceited…”
“I can’t believe you’re being like this.”
“What… caring about my best friend?”
“Best friends support each other, Jill.” He turned on his heels and stomped out the door.
Jill.
My own name stung like razors slashing my skin. I’d been Slugger, or Jilly-Jill, for nearly five years now. The detachment in his voice horrified me more than the thought of him sleeping with the bimbo.
I rolled back my chair and stormed over to his office. “I am being supportive. Jack, please…”
The furrow in his brow startled me. “You gotta get over whatever stinking jealous grudge you have with Monica.”
“I am not jealous!”
He slammed the door shut behind me. “No? I see the way you look at her, and then you look at yourself in the mirror with that stupid, annoying, crinkled nose.”
“I do not.” Except for in the bathroom this morning.
“Oh, sure you don’t.” His eyes softened. “You’re pretty, and have nice legs, and beautiful brown eyes, and an amazing smile if you’d ever use it, but you can’t see all these great things because you’re always too hung up on wishing you had what everyone else does.”
My jaw tensed. “I am not like that.”
“Bull. Ever since Bill left you’ve been detached… cut off.”
“I have not!”
“No? What about the time Nicky broke the necklace your mother gave you before she died?”
“Don’t you dare bring that up.”
“You threw it away, Jill. You threw it away, and it meant the world to you.”
“That has nothing to do with this!”
“It does. It has everything to do with this.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Listen. You are my best friend. I don’t want you ticked off at me, but you really need to get a grip and move on. If you’d just open your eyes, you’d see…” His gaze locked on mine. Sadness touched his eyes before he blinked and eased into his chair. “Never mind. We need to get back to work. I’m sure the vultures are circling by now.”
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