by Nancy Thayer
Shirley padded into the living room and did a few minutes of sun salutations. Then she went through the dining area to the kitchen. She drank her orange juice, ate some fruit yogurt, and brewed green tea, all the time going over her plans for the day.
Because she was a vegetarian, she hadn’t roasted meat for decades. But Justin’s kids were coming for Christmas dinner, and that meant turkey. She’d researched ways to make it tender, juicy, and delicious. She’d bought tons of veggies. And she’d bought a pumpkin pie and a cherry pie from Alan and Jennifer’s bakery, so she didn’t have to worry about dessert.
She had to start the turkey now. She’d decided to put it in a brown paper bag to make it especially tender, so she turned on the oven, organized her roasting pan, and hoisted the heavy bird out of the refrigerator. It was a fresh free-range turkey from a farm. She rinsed it, then rubbed it all over with butter and olive oil. Getting it into the paper bag wasn’t easy, but she managed it and slid it into the oven.
There. That much done!
She washed her hands and her few breakfast things with organic soap, setting them in the wooden rack to dry. She double-checked the living room. Perfection. The tree and its presents glittered. And Justin’s present, her real present, was hidden in Shirley’s purse. She’d give it to him tonight when they were alone together. Tears sprang to her eyes as she thought of how Justin would look when he saw it.
She puttered around in the dining area, spreading the holiday tablecloth she’d bought especially for the occasion, setting out the plates and silverware and napkins. For the center of the table, she’d bought a long, low arrangement of red and white carnations—not expensive, but festive.
Everything was ready for the best Christmas of her life.
At ten thirty, Shirley leaned over the bed, put her hand on Justin’s gorgeous naked shoulder, and gently shook him. “Hon? It’s ten thirty. You’d better get going.”
“Mrrph.” Justin opened his eyes. “Okay. Thanks.”
As he showered and shaved, Shirley made the bed and tidied the bedroom. Another good thing she’d accomplished, she thought, was helping Justin get to see his kids more often. Both his ex-wives were angry with him, and Shirley didn’t blame them, because over the years he really hadn’t been very good about paying child support or showing up for scheduled visits. What they didn’t understand, of course, was that Justin was an artist, a writer, a sensitive, poetic soul who just could not be bound by the rigid laws imposed on ordinary people.
Justin hurried out of the bedroom and began pulling on his clothes, his silver hair in its ponytail still damp. Shirley perched on the end of the bed, watching him. God, he was beautiful! It was Fate, really, that had brought them together. They’d met in a management seminar. It was Justin’s own brother, a Realtor, who showed Shirley the run-down old estate that was now the flourishing home of The Haven. No one could tell her that she and Justin weren’t meant to be.
“Okay, Sweetface, gotta go.” Justin bent over, kissed her, and went off.
Shirley headed into the bathroom for her own shower. The thing her Hot Flash friends just couldn’t seem to get was that Justin was an intellectual. He had a bachelor’s and a master’s degree in English literature, and he’d taught at various colleges and universities, but he’d never been given tenure because the world was swamped with English professors. “Publish or perish” was the unwritten academic law, but as much as Justin had struggled, he hadn’t been able to teach, grade a million papers, sit on endless committees, and still find the psychic energy to write. So when his contract at a junior college was not renewed, Justin had decided to try the business sector. He’d signed up for the management seminar, hoping to learn enough to land a decent day job. He went to work at a real estate office and tried to write at night.
It was a good plan, and Justin did work hard. No one could deny that. It wasn’t his fault that the real estate deals he invested in fell through. His own brother had advised him, and his own brother had lost money, too. But his brother had a lot of money to play with; Justin didn’t. While Justin had been riding his professional roller coaster on its downward plunge, Shirley, with the help of her Hot Flash friends and a few wealthy investors, had gotten The Haven off the ground. It was only natural for her to invite Justin to teach a few courses in creative writing at the spa. His classes were always filled to the max—again, a fact no one could argue with. For a while, Justin rented a condo at The Haven for a nominal amount, but that made Alice cranky, plus it was a slight—very slight—financial negative for The Haven, so Shirley had invited him to move in with her and they rented his condo to Star, the yoga teacher.
Finally, Justin had the emotional space and comfort for writing his novel. He’d slaved over it, Shirley knew. She’d carried endless cups of coffee to him as he sat typing away at his laptop on the dining room table. He’d written hundreds and hundreds of pages in a storm of creation. A few months ago, he’d declared the novel nearly finished. Shirley was sure the work was brilliant, although Justin was too shy to let her read the book.
Perhaps it was because he hadn’t yet been able to get an agent. It wasn’t Justin’s fault. The publishing world was as corrupt and difficult as the academic world. Everyone knew that. He didn’t have the right contacts. He was disappointed—close to despair.
Shirley studied her body in the mirror as she dressed for the day. So many wrinkles, so many lines! Her Hot Flash friends, Polly, Marilyn, Alice, and Faye, could console themselves that no matter how used up their bodies looked, it was all right. They’d given birth to children. Their bodies had been used. The same could be said for the sags and wrinkles on their faces—no one had gotten through the business of motherhood without some difficulties, disappointments, and sorrows. The love, worry, fear, and labor that made them good mothers marked their faces, and because of that, they would not change a thing.
But Shirley had never had children. She had wanted children. With all her heart, she had wanted children. But it had just never been in the cards, and now the marks on her face, the long, deep lines, seemed like the tracks of tears engraved in her skin.
Which was why Justin was so important to her. She could actually help make his dreams come true. That was a luxury she’d never experienced. Alice, Faye, Marilyn, and Polly could close their eyes and remember all the years when their kids went wide-eyed on Christmas morning, or when they gave their kids the puppy or the kitten or the new dress or the bike they’d been longing for. The greatest joy in life wasn’t getting, it was giving. Just once in her life, Shirley was going to experience that.
She couldn’t wait. It really made her shiver. It would be wonderful, seeing the kids open their presents. But it would be a once-in-a-lifetime event on the order of a miracle to give Justin his present tonight.
She knew what Justin was giving her, and it was very important that she give him his present first. She hadn’t even been looking; she’d been dusting the condo. His briefcase had been sitting on the dining room table, next to his laptop and his stack of papers. It had been open, and Shirley had carelessly glanced inside. It was crammed with student essays and handouts for his creative writing course, but wedged down at the bottom was a small black velvet box.
The sight had electrified her as if she’d been struck by lightning.
“Oh my God!” she’d whispered, covering her mouth. Justin was just in the other room. They’d been talking about marriage recently, in a playful, daydreamy kind of way. She knew Justin loved her. She knew he liked to surprise her. She danced away from the dining room table, jubilant. His Christmas present to her was an engagement ring!
“Let’s wait and exchange our Christmas presents on Christmas night,” she’d suggested a week or so ago. “When we’re alone and relaxed.”
“Good idea,” he’d agreed. Today was the first holiday they were spending all together, as if they were a kind of family.
At one o’clock, her cell phone rang.
“Shirley,” Justin said, �
��Ben’s mom was late getting him here. We’re just leaving Braintree.”
“That’s fine, Hon. Thanks for letting me know!” Shirley wondered what to do about the turkey. She didn’t want it to dry out, so she covered it and left it in the oven.
At two fifteen, the door flew open and they all stomped in.
Angel and Spring wore low-cut jeans with cropped sweaters. Spring’s hair was short, spiked, and blue. Angel’s was long and curly. Both girls wore glittering gold eye shadow and thick, frosted lipstick. Shirley tried to take that as a kind of compliment, that they’d dressed up to come to her place. Ben, only ten, hulked behind his half-sisters, looking sullen.
Shirley chirped, “Merry Christmas, everyone!” Pushing a little switch, she turned on her necklace and earrings so they flashed.
Spring, the most sophisticated at fifteen, rolled her eyes. But thirteen-year-old Angel said, “Cute!”
Ben pulled off his down jacket, dropped it on the floor, and waded into the pile of presents. Grabbing one of the larger ones, he picked it up and shook it. “What’s in here?”
“Well, let’s all get settled and you’ll find out! I thought your father could hand out—”
Ben read the tag. “Mine.” With both hands, in one long, violent tear, he ripped the paper from the box. “Cool! A PlayStation 2!”
“You got PlayStation?” Spring asked excitedly. “Wow! What did we get?”
As if they operated with one brain, Spring and Angel, in sync, threw themselves at the presents, scanning the tags, tossing ones without their names over their shoulders in Ben’s general direction.
“Kids, kids!” Shirley cried. “Slow down! I want to get pictures of you opening your presents!”
But the three kids were like hounds digging for buried bones. They went at the presents in a frenzy, ripping the wrapping paper, shredding the beautiful bows without so much as a glance, tossing each present aside in their hurry to get to the next one.
“We got a DVD player!” Angel trumpeted, sticking out her tongue at Ben.
“We already have a DVD player, dummy,” Ben sneered.
“We got the coats!” Spring screamed at Angel as she opened a large box. “I told you Shirley would get them for us.”
Shirley perked up, waiting for them to thank her. When they didn’t, she told herself to be glad the girls assumed she would do something nice for them. That was a start, wasn’t it?
“A skateboard! Awesome.” Ben jumped up. “I’m going to take this outside.”
“Wait!” Shirley said. “Let’s have Christmas dinner first.”
“Aw, crap,” Ben whined. “Dad! Come on!”
“Why don’t you go try it out for just a few minutes,” Justin told his son. “While we get dinner on the table.”
“I’m not helping set the table if he’s not helping!” Spring snarled.
“No, kids, you don’t have to help,” Shirley hastily assured them. “Everything’s done; I just have to put the food on the table.”
“I’ll just stay inside,” Ben decided, grabbing up his new PlayStation.
“Well?” Spring demanded. “I thought you said dinner was ready. I’m starving.”
Shirley was almost dizzy. The opening-presents event had been a free-for-all, over almost before it was begun. The girls were already ignoring their coats, DVDs, cosmetic kits, and other presents and sat on the sofa, fighting over the television remote control.
“MTV!”
“No, VH1!”
Ben leaned against the sofa, fingers flying over his electronic game, already lost in another world.
No one had brought her a present, Shirley realized, with a twinge of disappointment. But no one had given their father a present, either. That was just mean.
“I’ll help you put the food on,” Justin said.
She gave him the best smile she could conjure up. “Thanks.”
In the kitchen, she heated the creamed broccoli, the cauliflower au gratin, the marshmallow-topped sweet potatoes, the carrots simmered in brown sugar and butter. Justin’s kids all liked their veggies disguised by sauces, the sweeter the better. She dished them into serving bowls, and Justin carried them to the table.
“Okay!” Shirley said. “Now, Justin, if you’ll just hold the big platter, I’ll put the turkey on it.”
She pulled oven mitts on and lifted out the heavy pan.
“Hey!” Drawn by the aroma, Ben stood in the doorway to the kitchen. “That smells good.”
His half-sisters came to stand behind him, peering over his shoulder.
“Turkey. Cool,” Angel said. “We have to eat goose tonight. Ugh.”
“My mom’s fixing leg of lamb,” Ben said, making gagging noises.
“Ughghghgh!” both girls croaked.
Shirley’s cheeks were hot with happiness—she’d done something right! She’d cooked a Christmas turkey!
Carefully she cut open the brown paper bag. The turkey was gorgeous, golden brown, steaming with heat and flavor. Justin held the platter out.
Shirley put a long fork in each end of the turkey and lifted it away from the roasting pan toward the platter.
With a kind of mushy, squishing liquid sound, most of the meat fell away from the bones, splatting in greasy pieces on the floor.
“Oooh, gross!” Ben cried.
“I’m not eating that!” Spring exclaimed.
“Me, either!” Angel echoed.
Visions of a strong gin and tonic danced in Shirley’s head.
Fueled by Shirley’s optimistic energies, the day staggered on. Enough meat remained on the turkey to feed everyone. The kids even ate the vegetables. Justin went out to watch Ben on his skateboard while Shirley, on a whim, gave the girls a tour of The Haven. Then Justin drove the kids home, while Shirley gathered up the torn wrapping paper and bows and removed the various glasses, plates, and cups the kids had left around the place. She did the dishes and cleaned up the fallen turkey mess— what a literal pain in the back!
Now, at last, Christmas night was here. The condo was clean, the tree twinkled brightly, and Shirley had turned off all the other lights and set candles glowing around the room. Christmas music spilled softly from the CD player. Shirley redid her makeup and tousled her hair, wanting to look perfect for the coming perfect moment.
Justin came in, smelling of fresh air and snow. “Let me fix a drink, and we can open our presents.”
“Lovely,” Shirley said. “I’ve made myself a pot of tea.”
Justin sank down on the sofa next to her. “Cheers, Shirley,” he said, toasting her. “Thanks for making this such a wonderful day for all of us.”
His praise touched her deeply. “I loved every minute of it.”
He raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Every minute?”
She laughed. “The bit with the turkey was a little embarrassing.”
“We’ll all be laughing about it a few years from now,” Justin assured her.
Hey! There was a long-range plan if she’d ever heard one. Shirley’s heart swelled in her chest. She blinked back tears.
“I want to give you your present now.” She bent to retrieve the little red box left under the tree. It looked like a cuff link box. She hoped he would think it was cuff links.
Justin set his drink on the table and put the present on his lap. Carefully, he undid the ribbon and lifted the lid off the box.
Inside was a check. From Shirley to Justin. For ten thousand dollars.
Frowning, Justin looked at Shirley. “What’s this?”
Shirley was practically squirming all over, like a puppy who’d just dropped his bone at his master’s lap. “It’s money! So you can self-publish your novel! And pay for a graphic artist to give it a dynamite cover. And in a few more months, I’m going to give you another check, so you can hire someone to help you publicize your book.”
Justin looked dumbfounded. He shook his head. “Shirley, I can’t take this much money from you.”
“But that’s how much you need. Yo
u told me so, yourself.”
“Yes, but—”
“Justin, take it, please. I want to help you make your dream come true.”
He ran his hand over his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
She waited, holding her breath.
When he looked at her, his eyes were shining. “Shirley, I’ve never had anyone love me this much. I don’t know what to say.” He stood up and paced the room, walking like a man in a dream.
Then he came back to the sofa, knelt in front of Shirley, and took her hands in his. “All right. I’ll do it. I’ll take your money and publish my novel. On one condition: every cent I make from it comes back to you, until I pay this debt off.”
“It’s not a debt, silly, it’s a present,” Shirley reminded him.
“I’m serious, Shirley. I’m going to put it in writing. Any profit from my novel goes to you.”
God, she loved this man! He had such integrity! “All right,” she agreed.
He pulled her down to him and kissed her passionately. “I love you, Shirley. I love you so much.”
“I love you.”
Rising, he said, “God, this is so exciting! I’ve already investigated several self-publishing presses, but now I get to choose. I’ve got to make a list, and actually, I’d better get some information off the Net. I’ll want to go to their offices, meet these people, see what they propose to give me for my money.”
Shirley pulled her knees up and hugged them against her, watching Justin in his excitement.
“Oh!” Justin said, stopping midpace. “I haven’t given you your present yet.”
Justin reached into his pocket and brought out the small black velvet box. Returning to the sofa, he sat next to Shirley and put the box in her hand.
“This is nothing compared to what you’ve given me,” he told her somberly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t afford something bigger. I’d like to give you a diamond as big as the Ritz.”