10 Holiday Stories

by Dara Girard

  He made a face and shook his head. “It's still not up to standard. You know you're no good at this. I told you to stick with simple things. Why won't you listen?”

  “I wanted to give customers a new experience.”

  “This isn't a culinary institute. You're not making art. Just bake cookies and cakes and you'll be in the black instead of the red. Now let's go.”

  Marina saw the light in her eyes dim.

  “Who is this jerk?” Idris said.

  “The man I thought I'd marry,” Marina said.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  She saw her younger self watch Eli leave the kitchen and then she took all her experiments and dumped them into the trash.

  “That was the moment you let him steal your dream,” the old woman said.

  Marina let her hands fall to her sides. “My dream failed. I failed. The business flopped. Even if he hadn't taken the money he was right, I was no good.”

  “But you were getting better. You stopped trying. You listened to him when you should have ignored him. He didn't support you. He lied to you and you believed his lies. What if you'd kept experimenting and one of them worked? You started to make your business just about money and not about joy. That was when you gave up on your dream. Your dream never gave up on you.” The old woman pointed to the trash bin. “This is the moment you failed.”

  Marina twisted her lips and shrugged. “It's too late now.”

  The old woman took Marina's hand and patted it. “You're too young to start speaking like an old woman. Even if you were my age it wouldn't be too late to live with joy. To try. To dream.” The old woman looked at Idris. “Are you ready to tell her what you've always wanted to do?”

  “No.”

  She sighed.

  “Why won't you tell me?” Marina asked. “We'll never see each other again. Are you afraid because you'll fail like I did?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away.

  Marina looked at the old woman. “I don't understand any of this.” She glanced around the kitchen that was no longer hers. A past that still caused her pain. “Why are you showing us things we can't change?”

  “Because that's the point. You can't change the past, but the future is yours. You don't have to be stuck here. The holidays are full of presents. Not just the gifts given to each other, but the moments you inhabit every day. They matter. The choices you make matter. Make your presents matter, then the future will belong to you. You just have to believe it.”

  Marina bit her lip then squinted at her. “What are you?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Why couldn't I understand you before?”

  “Because you weren't ready to.”

  “Why us?”

  The old woman kissed her teeth with annoyance. “You ask such silly questions. Why not you? If I am a spirit or a ghost or your imagination does it matter? Those questions aren't important. The important question is: What will you do next?”

  “Will we remember any of this?”

  She just smiled.

  Idris rested his hands on his hips. “What should we do next?”

  Her smile just widened.

  “I think that's all she'll tell us,” Marina said. “This is what she did to me when we first met.”

  “I guess it's a sign that our journey is coming to an end.”

  “Yes.” Marina glanced at his tie and had a strange urge to straighten it, but resisted. She lifted her gaze to his face. He had a nice face and she wished she could know him better. After Eli's betrayal, she hadn't wanted to know another man. “Whatever happens, good luck to you. I hope that you'll see your nephews this year.”

  “And you should keep baking, if it makes you happy.”

  “It does.” She tilted her head to the side. “And what did you always want to do?”

  This time he only smiled but for the first time she saw a twinkle in his eye.

  “Fine, don't tell me. Good luck with that too.”

  “Thanks.”

  The old woman took both their hands and they shared a look--this time with hope and anticipation--then the world went black.

  7

  The phone call shattered a beautiful dream at 3a.m. on Christmas Eve. Marina groggily reached for the phone hoping that it would stop ringing by the time she picked up. It didn't.

  “Hello?”

  “I'm sorry to wake you,” her mother said. “But I need you to pick up Uncle Sola.”

  “Who?”

  “Uncle Sola. He'll be arriving at BWI and--”

  “Mom I can't keep doing this.”

  “I know and I feel bad but I know you're off all week.”

  “Off?” Was she trying to be funny? She wasn't off. She didn't have a job.

  “Yes, you and the boys are going to Delaware. Just this quick favor and I won't do it again.” She gave the flight number and description then hung up.

  Delaware? Boys? Her words vaguely made sense but then they didn't make sense at all. Her mind felt as though it was between a dream and a wake state.

  “What was that about?” a deep voice said beside her.

  Marina froze. She knew that voice, but yet she didn't know it. And what was he doing in her bed? She slowly turned to him. Idris. Not the sad, tired Idris from the police station. He looked sleepy, but happy.

  She pushed her sheets away. “I have to go pick someone up from the airport.”

  He frowned and put the sheets back. “No, you're not.”

  “My mother.”

  “Give me the phone.”

  “But--”

  He reached across her, grabbed the phone and dialed. “Hi Mom. Sorry she can't make it. Tell him to take a taxi and I'll pay for the tab. Yes, I know. I don't care. Then get Wale to do it. Yes. Okay, bye.” He disconnected and handed her the phone.

  Marina gripped the phone in two hands. “What did she say?”

  “Relax. You don't have to go.”

  He'd called her mother 'Mom'. Yes, because he was her husband. That felt right. Yes, they were married. Why had she ever imagined him sad? And she'd never been in a police station. Where had that thought come from? The dream state faded and everything became clear. They'd been married a year. He used to be a detective and now he was a real estate developer, raising his two nephews. She did catering: Sweet desserts. She wasn't making lots of money but she was happy and he always let her practice her experiments on him and the boys loved to be in the kitchen with her. She suddenly remembered snow ball fights and searching for a tree. But most of all she remembered meeting him one Christmas day.

  He'd taken his nephews to a birthday party a friend had invited her to cater and their eyes met over a row of cupcakes and for her it felt like she'd known him from somewhere. Like they'd known each other forever. She still felt that way.

  Marina settled back under the warm sheets. There was a question that niggled her mind. She didn't know why, but for some reason she wanted to know the answer. She had to. “What have you always wanted to do?”

  Idris was slow to answer and at first she thought he may have fallen back asleep.

  He hadn't. He felt as if someone had asked him that question before and he'd had a hard time answering. But now he wanted to. He looked around the cozy bedroom knowing his nephews were safe and asleep in their beds, the presents were under the tree ready to be opened. He could already taste the maple syrup covered waffles Marina would make for breakfast. He looked at his wife, his friend, unsure he could put into words all they'd asked for. He'd wanted to follow his heart and take care of his nephews, build a business that would support his family and find a woman he wasn't afraid to love. One he could trust. A woman who'd love him just as he was.

  Idris drew her close, amazed that he'd gotten all that he'd ever dreamed. “This,” he said then tenderly placed his lips against hers.

  And the next morning on top of the Christmas tree, Marina saw an angel that wasn't the same one she'd put there sev
eral weeks ago. It didn't have wings, instead it wore a brightly colored headwrap, matching dress and a big smile.

  X

  The Gift Box

  The Gift Box

  “So what do you think?”

  Tamara Cole stared at the box and didn’t exactly know what to think of the present her husband, Ross, had given her. She’d torn through the brightly colored green and gold wrapping paper that Christmas Eve and lifted the lid, giddy with expectation. The size of the box had been too large to be jewelry, certainly too small to be a TV, but still large enough to get her imagination spinning. Even before she’d lifted the box, she’d come up with a series of guesses.

  The soccer ball sized square box could have been the stack of new plush towels she’d wanted, a silk robe and pajama set she’d been eyeing, perhaps something for the baby they planned to welcome in four months. Maybe it was a set of lavender bath lotions, she really wanted to pamper herself with during the times when she felt a little dumpy. Although she was excited about becoming a mother, she was also a little nervous too. There was so much she didn’t know.

  This Christmas would be their last as a couple and Ross had helped her make it special. They’d gotten a tall, fresh evergreen tree, which stood boldly near the window. A lovely sight every time they arrived home. She’d bought extra garlands for the hallway, a wreath so large it covered half of the front door and a welcome mat showing a picture of a holly bush that lit up when people stepped on it.

  She looked forward to the Christmas dinner tomorrow evening, when her parents, and her sister and her family, would arrive, but this Christmas Eve belonged to them. They sat together on the carpet in front of the tree, in the hushed silence of the evening, the ticking clock the only other sound in the room. It was supposed to be a night she’d remember forever, a gift that would bring tears of joy to her face.

  Instead...instead…he’d given her this? Tamara stared inside the box speechless.

  “Honey, what do you think?” he asked again.

  Honey? He dared to call her that? “I don’t know what to think,” she said, stumbling over the words, not sure if she should laugh or cry. Anger mingled with annoyance and disbelief.

  “I know,” he said with a proud grin. “Isn’t it amazing? I didn’t think I’d get one. You can image how hard it was, but I was determined.”

  Tamara set the box on the ground, stunned her husband could mock her with such a goofy expression on his handsome brown face. Why was he smiling? “I don’t think it’s funny.”

  His smile wavered. “It wasn’t meant to be funny.”

  “Then what’s an empty box supposed to be?”

  His smile disappeared. “Empty?”

  She nodded. “Yes, empty.”

  “How could it be empty?” He reached for the box and looked inside then stared at her, his brown eyes stunned. “It’s right there. Don’t you see it?”

  Tamara looked inside again. Was he playing some sort of cruel joke? She didn’t see anything. Just the white interior of a square cube. “No.”

  He frowned. “Maybe we should get your eyes checked.”

  “Maybe we should get your head checked,” she shot back. She lifted the box. “This is completely empty,” she said and began to turn it upside down to prove her point.

  He reached out and stopped her. “Don’t do that!” He took the box from her and gently set it down beside him. “You’ll damage it. You have to be very careful. It wasn’t easy to get you know.”

  She surged to her feet. “I’m not playing this silly game anymore.”

  He stared up at her. “It’s not a game.”

  She pointed at the box. “There’s nothing in there.” She took a deep breath then rested her hands on her hips. “Ross, don’t do this. You know how important this evening is to me. She smoothed down her blue and silver blouse, which she’d worn especially for the evening, and rested her hands at her sides. She would be calm. “Now where’s my real present?”

  Ross looked at her for a long moment, resting his arm on his extended leg. “This gift is what I got you.” He gestured to the box. “It’s all that I got you. I thought you’d…” He furrowed his brows. “You really don’t see it?”

  She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t back down, but she didn’t care. “No, and when my family doesn’t see it too, you’d better make sure my real present is spectacular.”

  As she set the table for dinner the following evening, a part of Tamara regretted making the suggestion. She didn’t want to expose her husband’s silly prank to her family. She’d hoped that after she’d challenged him, he would have said, “No, there’s no need to do that,” and then give her her real gift. But instead, he’d nodded grimly and said, “Fine,” before clearing the wrapping paper away.

  Ross showed everyone the box after dessert. Tamara had been left to watch a holiday cartoon with her niece and nephew, aged three and five, when Ross had taken her parents, sister Carrie and her husband into another room and showed them the gift. He’d told her that the gift wasn’t appropriate for children their age. She heard their collective gasp from the other room. Her mother then spoke in a tone filled with awe, although Tamara couldn’t make out the words, her father’s low grumble sounded equally amazed.

  When they all returned to the family room, Ross sent her a look saying, “See? I told you,” before her mother told her how lucky she was. Tamara couldn’t believe it. They’d all seen it? How could that be? Why was she the only one who couldn’t see it? Were they all just pretending?

  These questions swirled in her mind as she cleared up the kitchen. Then her sister Carrie came in and offered to help.

  Her older sister Carrie had done everything right. Carrie, with her six figure salary, vacation house, master’s degree and svelte physique—smooth mocha skin and dark twists which fell to her shoulders. Carrie, with her two great kids and husband. Carrie, who succeeded even when she wasn’t trying. Tamara watched her sister enter her tiny kitchen wearing jeans and a satin red top, looking like a woman who hired someone else to handle her stress. Even with two kids and a high powered job she looked calm and confident.

  Tamara both admired and envied her. As much as she tried to follow the same path as her sister, she always fell short. She’d married later than her sister—early thirties instead of late twenties. She’d started a family later than planned—three years instead of two, she hadn’t graduated from university with honors. She hadn’t graduated at all, dropping out in her third year. She worked as a bookkeeper for her husband’s furniture restoration business. Not a glamorous role nor as lucrative as being the vice president of a bank.

  She didn’t have a housekeeper to keep her place spotless, her dinner parties weren’t talked about months later and now…now her sister (and her parents) saw a gift Ross had given her, a gift that she still couldn’t see. And when she glanced down at the red blouse she’d chosen for the evening—why did it have to be red?—she felt as round and ridiculous as a Christmas ornament.

  “What was the first thing you did when you saw it?” Carrie asked Tamara as she helped her load dishes stained yellow and red from curried chicken and jollof rice into the dishwasher.

  Tamara scratched the back of her ear. “I was so…happy I just hugged him.”

  Carrie looked at her for a long moment then rested her hip against the counter and folded her arms. “You don’t see it, do you?”

  Tamara’s chest tightened. She felt caught, exposed. Her throat tightened. She struggled to swallow. She couldn’t let her sister know the truth. Anybody else, her parents, her friends, people in other countries, but not her. “Yes, I do.”

  Carrie sent her a look that made it clear she knew Tamara was lying, but she shrugged her shoulder before continuing loading the dishes. “I wish my husband got me a gift like that. What do you plan to do?”

  “I don’t know.” She hesitated. “What would you do?”

  A self-satisfied smile touched Carrie’s lips. “Doesn’t matter, it’
s not my gift.”

  Tamara rubbed her hands knowing that look, that smile, her innocent question had exposed the truth, but she didn’t care. She’d had to take a risk. She truly wanted to know what was in the box and what her sister would do with it. But her sister wouldn’t help her. She’d keep the knowledge a secret. Her sister, who always knew everything. Tamara made a face at her sister when Carrie looked down to turn on the dishwasher. Did she have to sound so smug? Couldn’t she give her a hint?

  The dishwasher hummed to life.

  “But there is one thing you should do,” Carrie said, looking at her.

  “What?” Tamara asked, hoping her expression did not betray her.

  Her gaze turned serious, her words heartfelt. “Cherish him. A man like Ross doesn’t come along every day.”

  Did the gift have something to do with Ross? Was that what she was missing? Tamara sat up in bed, drumming her fingers on her rounded belly, ruminating over her sister’s words instead of looking at the wood crafter’s magazine on her lap. She stole a glance at Ross while he sat beside her with his eyes closed while he listened to an audiobook. She didn’t know how he could do that. She’d tried it once and had fallen asleep, but it was his favorite nightly ritual.

  She studied his profile and sighed. Why had her sister mentioned her husband instead of the gift? Were they one in the same? She clasped her hands together as a thought came to her. She tapped him on the shoulder.

  He took off his headset and looked at her questioning.

  “Okay, I get it now,” she said. “It’s symbolic. It’s a box of your love or your affection. It’s something that’s there but I haven’t been paying attention to because I’ve been preparing for the baby so I haven’t seen it, right? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  He set his headset aside and sighed. “It’s not invisible, honey. It’s not something I made up. It’s real and tangible.”

  Her buoyant mood faded, she’d hoped she’d solved the mystery. Instead she’d failed. She stared down at an ad in the magazine for wood polish, hating the look of disappointment in his gaze. She hated disappointing him. She didn’t even know what she’d done wrong. Why couldn’t she see his gift?