Monica Jackson - Merry Christmas, Baby

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Monica Jackson - Merry Christmas, Baby Page 7

by Merry Christmas, Baby

“It’s me.”

  He hesitated an instant before he buzzed me in.

  When I got off the elevator, he was leaning against his door frame, unshaven with bare feet, ripped jeans and a scruffy T-shirt. He looked sexy.

  “You’ve decided you’re ready to talk?” he asked.

  “I need a little time and space when my emotions are high, Nick. Believe me, it’s better. Do you have anything to drink?”

  I followed him to the kitchen and sat down at the table. He put a bottle of mineral water out for me, took out a Heineken for himself.

  “I thought about things,” I said. “I know that if I hadn’t had the experience I did with Patrick, it wouldn’t have been that big a deal to me.”

  “I knew it was a big deal to you. I have no excuses. I was a coward. I was afraid to screw up the possible relationship.”

  I took a swig of water. “When I was running, I thought about the things that are important to me, the questions that I need answered in an important relationship.”

  “Anything,” he said.

  “Can I trust you when it matters? Can I trust you not to hurt me? To love me and keep loving me even when it’s hard?”

  Nick started to answer, but I held up my hand. “Wait. You can only answer these questions with words. That’s all any man can do. These are questions that I have to answer myself, right here.” I put my hand over my heart.

  Nick was silent, staring at the bottle of beer. “Anytime you trust in a relationship with another human being, it’s a leap of faith,” he said.

  “That’s right. Love equals having faith. And if you don’t have any, you don’t love. It’s all about taking chances. But I gotta ask you one thing.”

  He tipped his bottle, swallowed and nodded.

  “Is it true about your brother having four wives? That’s just too freaky.”

  The dimple in his cheek creased. “It’s true.”

  He reached out and took my hand.

  It looked as if we were just sitting there to anybody else. But we were really jumping, almost flying—taking that huge leap of faith together.

  Christmas dinner was more modest than Christmas Eve. We had lots of leftovers. I think Mama and Saul were hungover, too; they were much more subdued. They talked in the corner.

  The kids were quiet, tired out from excitement, playing hard and too much food.

  “We’d better get up and straighten this mess,” Carole said, making a halfhearted effort to struggle off the couch.

  “Chill. I pre-booked an after-Christmas housecleaning with Cheerful Cleaners tomorrow.”

  Nick listened to his comedy CD through earphones. He laughed at intervals.

  I lay on a floor pillow, watching my family, watching him. Nick and I were brand-new and shiny. I didn’t know if we’d work out or not, but so far it felt good. The gambles were that we’d keep being real and keep it right.

  I glimpsed this beautiful place in my mind, full of flowers and trees. Birds sang and a waterfall cascaded into an idyllic pond. Nick was at my side. Was it a premonition or a fantasy? I had to take the chance.

  Nick was at my side. We were hand in hand, still leaping, flying into that wide-open unknown wilderness of the future. Together.

 

 

 


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