Christmas in LA

by Herb Scribner

  She hugs me tightly, the way you do when you’re about to leave someone.

  “I’m going to the the powder room. Let me know if anything crazy comes up. Oh, and please, please tell me later about this tech guy.”

  Blood rushes up my cheeks and it’s now stifling hot inside this house. Goosebumps rush along my arms. All because of Ryan. At least for the past few minutes I hadn’t thought of him. Now the images are slowly coming back. Flashes of our few days together.

  Charity bamboozles her way through the crowd again. She shrieks at one girl, yells at another, bouncing through a wide and thick crowd of partygoers. She’s her own woman. That’s for sure.

  I’m still standing in the doorway with my jacket on and my suitcase by my side. The party’s attention has left me. The release from its grip relaxes me a little. But I’m still hungry and stinky from the airplane ride. I could use a break. I know I just took a lengthy break from life, but another one is necessary.

  Or maybe it’s not a break I want. It’s an escape from the life I’m living.

  My eyes scan the party. I’ve got to somehow get out of here and find mom and dad. Let them know that I’m going to disappear for a little bit. Shower, change and be ready for the party.

  But it’s not mom or dad who I see first. My eyes lock on the man standing roughly thirty feet away from me. Dark and thick black hair, shining blue yes, the five o’clock shadow. A suit that’s pressed so evenly it might as well be on a mannequin in front of a store.

  Derek. Of all people. Derek is here. How? How is he here? How is he actually here in my house? Shouldn’t he be in North Carolina with his family? Why did he make the trip back here?

  His smirk stretches from ear-to-ear. But seeing him again worries me. I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t. But here he comes, waltzing over toward me like I should speak with him. Ugh. I guess I owe him that. But seeing him, seeing his plainness and ordinary way, it just doesn’t make me excited. It fills me with dread.

  He opens his arms up and spins around. “You like this?”

  “What?”

  “The party. Do you like it?”

  I’m about to answer openly and honestly, but I hold back. Slowly the pieces morph together. There wasn’t a party, and there was no planned visit from Derek. Not originally. I was supposed to come home. My family didn’t know where I was or how I was stuck in Los Angeles until I told them in the car. They would have no reason to plan a party.

  Unless someone told them about it first.

  “You?”

  “Me,” he says. “I figured we should celebrate you coming home. I’ve missed you, I know Charity has missed you, and your family. I don’t know. It just felt right to throw you a party.”

  No, Derek. It doesn’t feel right. It’s not even close to right. I don’t want this. I don’t want any of it. Not the stupid party, not being surrounded by people. And I don’t want you here. You’re too perfect. You’re too together. Me? I’m mess.

  I’m lost.

  He doesn’t know that I’m thinking like that. He should. It’s unfair to him and myself to string us both along down this tunnel, especially if there’s no light at its end.

  I grab his hand. “It’s great,” I say. “I’m sorry, I just need some air.”

  “Let’s go outside,” he says, nodding at the door.

  We step out into the cool night air. The sky has faded into a hard block with stars twinkling and winking at us. All the houses down the road are layered with Christmas lights. The Smiths have a colorful array of string lights, the Bukowskis have an inflatable Santa out front, the Goldmans have a blue and white mixture. Each home is dressed differently, like snowflakes that fall from the sky. They’re all unique in their own way.

  I step down onto the walkway and onto the sidewalk. My body shakes from the frigid temperatures and my breath dashes away in a cloud of fog.

  Derek joins me. We’re standing beside the mailbox. Closed. No more packages will leave before tomorrow morning.

  “Better?” he asks.

  It’s a simple question, but it ignites something else in me. A flood of tears rush like a wave behind my eyes, pressing against them. I’m sure it’s not just one tear that falls, but that’s what I notice. It streams down my cheek before it falls to the ground, moistening the patch of snow bellow.

  “No, Derek, I’m not better. I’m lost.”

  “Hey,” he says, stepping toward me to comfort me.

  But I step back. “Derek, please.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m such a mess,” I say. “I’ve been a mess for so long. And I think you know that. I love what you did for me. The party, coming to visit me. All of it. But, I mean, there’s a reason I didn’t want to go with you to visit your family. There’s a reason we fought so badly before we left each other. Going home with you for the holidays just didn’t feel right, and I think that’s a sign, isn’t it? A sign that this isn’t working?”

  “I don’t understand. I just, I thought it got you nervous. I didn’t realize it was such a big deal and that you were going through a crisis.”

  His words rub me the wrong way. Now I just want to punch him. “Crisis? Crisis?”

  “Yeah, crisis. I mean, I visit you on Christmas Eve. I pay hundreds of dollars for the flight, I put together this party, and you just throw it all away because you don’t think we should be together? I mean, I just don’t see how that’s fair.”

  Oh man. He’s messed with the wrong girl. I have no interest in hearing his side of the story. This is my decision. It’s my life. If I don’t want to be with him, I don’t have to be. I shouldn’t have to bend to him because he spent more money and organized a party. In what world does that make sense?

  My mind floats back to Ryan. Not because he’s the one I should be with. I shouldn’t be with anyone when my head is spinning like this. That would just create an even bigger mess. But the way he was so honest. The way he told it like it was. His bluntness and attitude even in touching and heartfelt moments. Sure, he pillowed everything with arrogance. But in the end, he told the truth more often than not.

  “Derek. I don’t love you. I don’t want to be with you. You can stay at this party if you want, but I want you gone tomorrow. I’m sorry if you don’t appreciate that, and if that ruins your plans, but I don’t want to be with you. Not anymore.”

  His face must sting from my words because all he can do is stare at me with squinting eyes. Almost like he’s trying to see if I’m really there, telling him this, under the guiding light of the stars. He scoffs and shakes his head. His grin morphs into a grimace. Now I’m worried that he’s going to blow up at me, just go off and scream at me about this. I’ve seen that in the face of men before. That uncontrollable look of rage that is their one final stomp on our hearts. The one nail in the coffin so that they can say that they destroyed our relationship. One final bit of masculinity unveiled.

  The screen door squawks open. A wave of heat flies out of it. The crowd’s chatter buzzes from the inside.

  Charity, dressed in her fur coat with her knockoff Prada purse in her hand, leans out the door, “Noelle! You okay?”

  Derek’s face flattens. His rage settles away. Whatever amount of hatred he was about to spew out, it’s gone in a heartbeat. All he does now is shake his head, still biting his teeth, as he backs up and heads back toward the door. He sidesteps by Charity as he returns to the party. Who knows what he’ll do now. But he’s gone.

  Charity forgets the party and walks down the steps to me. We’re on the sidewalk now. Her eyes scan me for a moment. It doesn’t take a scientist to know what just happened to me out here. She leans forward and wraps her arms around me, comforting me.

  Finally the tears fall.

  The tears mark the end of my relationship with Derek. Our life together is over, for good this time. We started this Christmas vacation apart, wondering if there would be anything left for us when we came back together after our own holiday breaks. But here
I am, standing outside my house, away from my family, having just shattered the relationship that consumed my life for two years.

  I can only think back to my few days with Ryan. He wasn’t the most gracious host. The spark between us wasn’t anything worthwhile, otherwise something would have happened probably. But there was an electricity there. Maybe more important than romance, maybe more important than friendship. Maybe we were both so lost, and that was enough to help us find our way.

  Ryan taught me honesty and truthfulness. Don’t hide behind your fake statements and lies. Don’t share fake love. Just be honest and upfront. Be blunt and to the point. Tell people the truth. Tell people how you really feel. Sometimes they deserve to know the truth.

  Derek wasn’t for me. He needed to know that so he didn’t waste his time chasing me. These extravagant moments like a party or a plane ride are nothing to me. They won’t unfreeze my heart. And he should know that. He can probably sweep another girl off her feet.

  I’m not sure where I go from here. I don’t know if I will for awhile. But one day I’ll find firm footing again.

  “I’m okay,” I tell Charity.

  And I know I will be.

  31.

  I don’t really stick around long enough to see the party. I hurry upstairs and jump in the shower, washing all of the airport gunk off of me. The black ooze of guilt drops away from me too. Of course I stay in the shower for an extended period of time. And I slowly dress myself in clothes that’ll make me comfortable. Pajamas and what not. I’m not trying to impress anyone anymore tonight.

  When I’m all showered and finally put together, I hear the final goodbyes of the night from upstairs. My mom wishes Uncle Ned off, who’s slurring his words and stumbling on his way to a taxi. Thank god he’s not driving. When I’m sure the house is quiet, I go back downstairs. Mom and dad are in the kitchen, putting away the last of the food. Julie is sitting on the couch, her eyes glued to her phone. Not sure if its Snapchat or Instagram she’s scrolling through.

  I join her in the living room, laying myself across one of the chairs, letting my legs hang off the edge of the chair. I stare at the ceiling for a few minutes, trying to organize my thoughts. But there aren’t any thoughts, Just a blank canvas that I’ll try to paint at a later date. Maybe I just need to numb my mind for a little bit.

  I heat up some Peppermint tea and return to the couch. Now that mom and dad have floated off to bed and Julie’s playing headbanger Christmas music in her bedroom, I can relax in peace. The warm glow of our Christmas tree’s light settle well with the heat. I’m laying on my couch now, letting my warm laptop lean against my thighs as I scroll through the list of updates on all social media networks.

  Facebook is a mess of content right now. Just people posting pictures of their various Christmas gatherings. Family parties where people gorge on meat pies or suck down buckets of eggnog. Other people are out celebrating with their friends in the cold wintry weather. Glowing Christmas lights around them, nestling close in the darkness. It’s such a beautiful night out. People across the world are all celebrating the same holiday. For one night, we’re all united.

  A few news stories pop up. Apparently Santa Claus is hanging around the eastern half of the world. Little kids in Asia must be thrilled with glee and relief right now. The United States and Europe are coming next. Can’t wait to see what the big Santa guy brings this year.

  Nothing else unordinary pops up. Your typical news about the latest crisis facing the White House, a natural disaster in some faraway country, the viral article about the best Christmas music playlist. It’s all there. I’m reaching now for something interesting to read. If only there was something worthwhile to spend my time on. Guess I should just fall asleep.

  An article pops up that I hadn’t expected to see. The website FeedZone has an article with the headline:

  This tech company founder quits on Christmas Eve because he’s fed up with his ex-wife! See why

  No. It can’t be, can it?

  I click open the article and read it twice to make sure it’s really there. Indeed it is.

  Ryan Rain, the founder and CEO of NewSurge Technologies, has quit the company after an apparent argument with his wife, Ciera Rain, sources close to the company told FeedZone.

  Rain, who’s held ownership of the company for more than 10 years, decided earlier this year to install a board of directors, one of which included his wife.

  Ryan and Ciera Rain split up earlier this year, in what some called a “power move” by the latter Rain.

  This week, Ryan Rain was visiting Los Angeles for a tech conference. Rumors circulated that his board of directors planned a move to go public.

  When Ryan Rain returned to town, he announced his departure from the company.

  Rain sent FeedZone an email, announcing his reason for the decision.

  “My wife and I disagree on a lot. I recently met someone who taught me the beauty in being honest with yourself and not seeking permission to be the person you want to be. It’s important to be honest with yourself and live the life you want to live. Don’t keep repeating the same mistakes. So I walked in and announced my departure.”

  NewSurge Technologies did not release a statement, nor reply to FeedBuzz’s request for comment.

  We will update this story as more comes through.

  I can’t help but smile as I read the article. Reading it over again, it only enlightens my smile. Maybe Ryan and I didn’t end on the best of terms. Maybe we argued about the different lies we held against each other. But the truth was abundantly clear now. By lying to each other, we were keeping ourselves from being honest.

  And it’s clear now that we both learned valuable lessons together.

  Honesty to ourselves was more important than anything else. Standing up for what we believed in. Sharing the truth and being upfront about what we wanted in life.

  Ryan taught me and I taught him.

  I smile as I close down my iPad. I rest my head against the couch and slowly drift off to sleep. Maybe this Christmas vacation sucked. Maybe this isn’t what I wanted.

  But it’s no question I am the better for it.

  And so too is Ryan.

  DAY FIVE: CHRISTMAS DAY

  32,

  Ah, Christmas Day.

  The sun breaks through the windows and lays a hand on my face, Slowly I toss and turn to avoid the sun’s gleaming wrath, but it becomes too much, so I wake up. The house is still quiet and unmoved. Santa’s arrival has not been championed yet. This might even be more evidence that Julie doesn’t believe in the myth anymore. If she did, she might have been awake at the crack of dawn.

  I’m the first one up, so my family has a rule about that — “the first one up makes the cup.” That means, make the coffee, essentially. I always hated that rule but today it doesn’t bother me. I feel like I need the coffee to function.

  I peel myself off of the couch and head into the kitchen to prepare the coffee pot. The Christmas tree is dazzling with multicolored presents underneath it. Boxes painted with blue, red and green wrapping paper. Bags stuffed with tissue paper. A combination of my gifts for family and the family’s gifts for me. Time to celebrate the glorious holiday.

  Standing by the coffee pot, watching it brew, I’m aware of how much better I’m feeling. Comfortable and confident, at peace with the decisions I’ve made. No more Derek, no more hiding away from problems. I’ll be honest with myself. Finally. A great weight has lifted from my shoulder. The world appears normal, or at least what I consider to be normal. I can mold my life into anything I want. I can make the world what I want to be.

  And it feels great.

  Two knocks at the door peel my eyes from the coffee pot. Huh. That’s strange. Who visits someone else during the holidays? No one ever knocks on another person’s door on Christmas. That’s almost blasphemy. Maybe it’s a last minute package arrival. Or Derek has come to apologize for the argument last night. Or Charity wanted to stop by for breakfast. I’m
sure there’s a reasonable explanation.

  I tip-toe my way to the door, having absolutely no desire for waking up my house and starting the mad rush of Christmas excitement. I reach the door and slowly turn the knob. The door opens and a thick buzzing sound fills the air, like a swarm of bees.

  I know that buzzing sound.

  “Morning, Ms. Cole!”

  Chives floats into view, his helicopter swings propelling him to stay upward and flying.

  “Chives!” I open the screen door and head onto the porch. “What are you doing here?”

  “Look below you, Ms. Cole.”

  And so I do, and that’s when I see it. Four cups of holiday coffee in a cup holder sitting on the porch. Even today, I’ll get the delicious coffee I’ve been drinking this week. Shocked with glee, I hunker down and rip one of the cups from the drink carrier. One sip instantly spins me back to the apartment where I spent the last week.

  “One for you, one for each of your parents, and a hot chocolate for your sister,” Chives says. “I hope they enjoy it.”

  “They will! And thank you!”

  “Well, I’m glad. And no trouble at all, ma’am. I just wanted to come by and wish you a merry Christmas.”

  “Thanks Chives,” I say, sipping again. I look past him toward the road, but the snowy and icy cold roads haven’t changed a bit.

  “Mr. Rain wished he could make the trip with me, but he’s going through many things now. He has quit the company.”

  “Yeah, I read that. Something about resigning?”

  “Indeed. He decided last night to leave the company, sell his stake and step away. Now, don’t fret about him. He made more money than my estimates showed he’d have ever made by staying on board.”

  “Thats good!”

  “You should hope so.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Ms. Cole, he made the decision because of you.”