by S. E. Babin
One side of the wall is all pale counters with generic pink countertops. I see a cutting board, a bag of flour, a carton of eggs and a half used bag of sugar positioned carefully onto it. A used rolling pin rests against the floured up cutting board, and my grandmother stands in front of it with an even larger rolling pin.
She has it high over her hair, her apron stained with colored icing and flour. Standing just a foot in front of her is an elderly gentleman I have never seen before. He is well over six feet, with gracious wrinkles over his oval face, and bushy grey eyebrows. His hair, the color of my grandma’s flour, is parted elegantly to the side.
“Easy there now, sugar lips.” He has both hands out in front of him, and if I had to guess, a Jersey accent. “I was just curious.”
“Grandma!” I hurry over to her and grab the heavy rolling pin from her hands.
Immediately my grandmother glares at me, strands of her greying hair coming undone from her usual bun. “He was being all handsy with my cookies!”
The man chuckles behind me; it’s a loud, deep laugh that echoes around the small room. I find myself trying not to laugh at how grandma’s statement could be misconstrued.
“You don’t hit him with a rolling pin,” I tell her, holding it firmly in both hands now.
“He deserved it,” my grandmother throws a finger at him. “I’d be careful if I was you, or you may just end up with a laxative in your morning coffee!”
“Grandma!” I grab her arm firmly and give her a look before I turn to the man. “She didn’t mean that.”
Again, the man laughs. His smile is unexpectedly sincere, two dimples surfacing at the corner of his mouth as he nods at me. “I’ve been threatened with worse. Don’t you worry young lady.”
“You’re not even here an hour, and already causing a problem, Dad?”
I look over at the door to see a tall, slender woman with curly brown hair leaning against the doorframe. She’s in a long grey sweater and black pants, her face full of exhaustion and it shows from the way her eyebrows have raised in annoyance. Her dark eyes strike me though, and I can’t help but stare at them a tad longer than I should. Something about them is familiar and comfortable.
“No, he’s not,” I say to her, shoving the rolling pin at my grandma. She takes it with a mumble. “He was just admiring my grandmother’s baking.”
“Smells lovely,” the woman nods, pushing up from the doorframe. “I could smell it all the way down the hall.”
“Every year I make Christmas cookies.” My grandmother leaves my side and crosses the room. She throws a glare at the woman’s father as she passes him. When she reaches the stove behind him; she picks up the baking sheet full of cookies. She extends them outward and motions for the woman to take one. “Fresh from the oven.”
“Thank you.” The woman smiles as she looks down and chooses one of the nearest, brightest, star cookies. She bites into it quickly and makes a hmmm sound at its taste. “So, what was my Dad doing to you?”
“He was getting at my cookies, without being asked.” My grandmother straightens herself up, still gripping the baking sheet in her hands. “And then he was being rather inappropriate.”
The woman swallows the cookie and narrows her big eyes at her father. “Dad, are you kidding me? Again?”
“What can I say?” He shrugs his shoulders and nudges me in the side with his elbow. “I can’t control myself when there’s a pretty lady around.”
“This pretty lady,” my grandma turns her head at him, “is not interested.” The man winks anyway, and when I see my grandma bare her teeth, I make my move.
“Okay, Grandma.” I walk towards her, “let’s take the cookies into the dining room now.”
“I have to put them on a plate.” She pulls away from my grasp and heads back to the oven.
We hear footsteps at the door and turn around to face our new visitor.
Standing in a grey ski jacket, with a pair of black gloves in his hands and his hair blown wildly to the side from the winter air, is Perry. He looks from the woman in the room to me, to the old man, back to me.
For a moment I’m confused as to why he’s here.
“Kinsley,” he says, producing a smile. “I see you’ve met my mom and grandfather.”
“This—this is your grandfather?” I motion at the older man behind me, who I’ve seen has wandered back towards my grandmother and the oven.
“You two know each other?” Perry’s mother finishes the cookie quickly and looks from me to her son.
“We work together,” Perry answers. “Kinsley was the one who gave us the referral for Morningside, and her grandmother got us the interview.”
“Oh, that was you.” His mother turns to me with a smile. “Well I should thank you both. This really is a nice retirement community.” She side-eyes her father. “I only hope he behaves himself so he doesn’t get kicked out.”
“You beast!”
We turn around to see my grandmother slap Perry’s grandfather in the hand before turning her back on him, holding the cookies on a large white porcelain plate. She adjusts her posture and gives us all a nod as she leaves the room, cookies in hand.
“Dad,” Perry’s mother moans loudly at him, “please, behave yourself here.”
He lifts up his hand, one of the Christmas tree cookies in it. We watch him bite into it. “No promises.”
“I better go after my grandma,” I say, motioning at the door where Perry stands. “It was nice to meet you all.”
As Perry’s mother approaches her father, she begins to lecture him in a low voice. I reach Perry who moves out of my way. We smile at each other as I pass through.
“See you at the Christmas party tomorrow,” he calls out behind me.
“Yup, see you there!”
Why am I so awkward?
6
The Christmas party starts promptly at seven o’clock, downstairs in the main lobby of the skyscraper at Fantasy Horizons. The glass walls are covered with dense sheets so that nobody passing the building outside can see the staff over-indulging on drinks and food. The two main Christmas trees are lit up for the night, and there is fake snow scattered throughout the room. Remixed Christmas music plays from the speakers above us, and waiters walk around with trays of drinks and appetizers.
I stand near the front desk with Jocelyn, watching everybody get in the swing of things. The front desk is littered with desserts people brought from home including brownies, Jell-o shots, and fudge. A tray of my grandmother’s cookies sits near us, already half gone and the only thing touched from the table.
Sierra stands out like a sore thumb, in a mini-sequined green number which has an exceptionally low v-cut in the front and back. Her hair is blown out, and cascading down her tanned shoulders like a waterfall. She has already captured the attention of most of the men we work with. Loyal Michael Wallace stands next to her, in a smart grey ironic tuxedo, looking bored out of his mind as he checks his nail beds.
“She looks ridiculous,” Jocelyn scoffs as she takes a drink of her wine. “I mean, if one thread of that tacky dress were to unravel, then she’d be standing there naked. Butt naked, because I bet you any money she’s got nothing on underneath.”
I tug at the bottom of my black mini dress, which I paired with thick green tights and ankle boots. It is a simple dress, with a modest v-cut and a low back. I left my hair down but curled the ends so it bobs up against my chin nicely.
Next to Sierra, I look like a nun.
“So, are we making any headway with Mr. Perry?” Jocelyn turns to ask me. A mischievous grin comes over her face as her glasses tip down her nose.
“No, please. You know me.” I roll my eyes at her as I take a quick drink of my rum and Coke. “He doesn’t even know I exist.”
“You’ve been working together every week for the last eight weeks,” Jocelyn sighs. “Trust me, he knows.”
“I mean he doesn’t have the slightest clue I am into him.”
“And whose f
ault is that?” Jocelyn quickly counters.
I say nothing as we both look over at him. He’s standing against one of the Christmas trees, a few other members of his team standing with him. He’s in a dark suit with a red tie with reindeer scattered throughout. He has a bottle of beer in his hand and is gesturing passionately at the man next to him.
“Go over and make casual conversation.” Jocelyn puts a hand on my back and pushes me forward. “Compliment his tie, or better yet, make fun of it.”
I’m hesitant, despite her pushing me forward. After a sigh, I hear Jocelyn say behind me, “Alright. I’ll come with you.”
We barely take a step before Sierra intrudes on the conversation Perry is having with his team members. She swings a hand around Perry’s waist and steps on her toes in her knee high boots, kicking her heel in the air as if she’s in a 1950’s romance film. She has a hand stretched out over Perry’s head and in it, she wiggles mistletoe.
My can feel my stomach turning, and my heart thuds so hard that it’s all I hear. I swallow hard as I watch Sierra lean over and press her red lips against Perry’s. The people around them laugh and cheer and I have to look down at my feet for a moment.
I make myself spin around and I can see Jocelyn’s twisted face. She opens her mouth to speak but I’m quicker.
“It’s fine, really.” My voice shakes a little as I walk back towards the front desk. “I’m not his type, and it’s just a crush.”
Jocelyn watches me set down my drink, “But what if it’s not—”
“I think I’m going to head home now.” I look at her slowly and shrug.
The plus side with Jocelyn knowing about my feelings towards Perry is that I don’t have to hide my disappointment anymore. I can wear it out like a nice pair of earrings.
I can hear Sierra’s booming laughter behind me, and I have to force myself not to look over my shoulder.
“I’ll see you Monday, okay?”
Jocelyn takes a breath but after a second she just smiles. “Do you want to take home the rest of your Christmas cookies?”
“No.” I shake my head as I take a step back from her. “Let everyone else enjoy them.”
7
I spend Sunday blissfully alone, watching reruns of old sitcoms on television, a marathon of their best Christmas episodes. It is one episode of Beverly Hills 90210 that has me decide, after the holidays, I will start getting over a man who barely knew I existed.
When I go into work Monday, the floor is abuzz with what happened after I left the Christmas party. A few coworkers became too drunk to function and passed out on the fake snow, Michael Wallace outed a co-worker accidentally but on purpose, and Sierra danced on top of the front desk.
I manage to avoid almost everyone that day, throwing myself into approving our last few products for the Boxing Day sale on the site. I don’t see Perry or Jocelyn all day, and the few times I do happen to peer over my plastic wall towards Perry’s desk, I notice it is always empty.
On Tuesday morning I’m mindlessly clicking away on color changes for the sale banner when someone throws down my plastic tray that I had placed Christmas cookies on for the party. I remove my hand from the mouse, blow a few pieces of my bangs from my eyes and look up slowly.
At first I’m not sure who I’m looking up at. The woman definitely looks like Sierra but, it has to be her twin. Her long glistening hair is pulled back into a severe bun, and she’s in a pair of slacks with a matching black blazer. There is absolutely no skin showing but the nape of her neck and she has a bold red statement necklace draped over it. It looks like there is barely any make-up on her face.
“Sierra?”
“Those cookies you brought to the party?” Her tone is sharp and unmoving. “They had me on the toilet all Sunday.”
I make a face at her as I touch the tray, trying hard not to smile at the image of her stuck in her bathroom. “Are you sure it was my grandmother’s cookies and not a hangover?”
She draws a breath through her teeth and raises a finger at me, “I do not get hung over. I have greens every day, and I diffuse my oils every morning.”
“Ohhh…”
“Michael loved your gift by the way. He’s so into Starbucks it’s not even funny.” Her voice barely hits a note as she lets out a jaded breath. “Anyway, laters.”
She turns and leaves me.
The small interaction has me in a great mood all day so by the time I get to Morningside Villa for the Resident Christmas Dinner I know my grandmother will be pleased that I am out of my sour mood.
She is already in the Dining Hall, behind one of the long tables covered with green table clothes. She’s saved me a seat next to her, and good thing, because other than two seats across from her, it is one of the only seats at that table left. The room is bustling with families, and the energy is lovely.
There is a Christmas tree in every corner of the room. Red and green tulle come across the ceiling towards the big chandelier in the middle.
It smells divine; warm, toasty turkey is about to be served. Each table has bowls of cranberry sauce already placed on it and you can smell its sweetness. My mouth is starting to water as I reach my Grandma’s table. There is a buffet table near the cafeteria kitchen that has a line a mile long, but I can see salads and fruit dishes.
“Hi Grandma,” I greet her. I bend down and give her light kiss on the forehead. She smells like her cookies, all sugary and syrupy. Her hair is up in its bun but she has fake red flowers woven through it. She’s in a green sweater, a Santa Claus pin over her heart, and a set of pearls. “You look nice.”
“You didn’t bring anybody?” she asks as I take a seat next to her. I throw her a smile as I unbutton my coat.
“I told you I wouldn’t be.”
“How can both you lovely ladies be single?”
I throw my pea coat over the back of my wooden chair and look across the table to find Perry’s grandfather sitting right across from my grandmother. He’s ever so silly in his green knitted Christmas sweater with the face of an elf on it. He winks at me and I can’t help but smirk.
“Just ignore him.” My grandmother waves her hand in front of my face. “He’s a nuisance.”
“Name’s William, by the way.”
He extends his hand and I take it as my grandmother exhales with annoyance. His shake is warm and firm and as we pull apart, I notice he’s alone.
To that I’m eternally grateful.
I don’t think I can see Perry after my pow-wow Sunday, my vow to get over him and find someone new.
“Nice to officially meet you,” I say to him as I take back my hand. “Hope you’re enjoying yourself so far.”
“It’s interesting,” William answers with a chuckle, “to say the least.”
“He thinks he can charm his way into the nurses’ good graces,” my grandmother leans over to tell me. “But they see right through him. Just like I do.”
I can’t help but laugh as I look down at my empty white plate. There’s a basket of fresh baked buns in front of me and the smell is making me drool a little. I go to reach for one but someone beats me to the basket first.
“Brains before beauty don’t you think?”
I try not to nervously smile at the sound of Perry’s voice and instead, just look up as he takes a seat next to his grandfather. In one hand he has a plate of food from the buffet table. Greek salad over-flows his plate, with extra olives and feta cheese, but that isn’t exactly what catches my eye.
It’s the knitted sweater he wears; exactly like his grandfathers, only red.
I have to laugh and I fail at hiding it behind my hand as I cover my mouth.
“I see.” Perry sighs. There’s a playful undertone to his voice as he raises a single eyebrow at me. “So you’re going to laugh at my sweater just like the cool kids did in high school.”
“No, no,” I manage to control my giggle and clear my throat. “I’m not laughing…”
“I laughed too,” my grandmother boasts l
oudly and proudly.
There comes an awkward silence over us as Perry digs into his salad. After he takes a bite, he looks up at me. I’m careful not to look into his eyes, afraid he’ll know I’m trying to keep the replay of his and Sierra’s kiss out of my mind. My heart stings just at the thought of it. “So, how was work?”
“Slow,” I shrug, and then remember I haven’t seen him all day. “Were you not in at all?”
“I was…” Perry lifts both hands, fork in between his fingers as he begins to air quote, “sick.”
“Ha,” William lets out a laugh as he slaps his grandson’s back hard. “He wasn’t sick. He was building his game.”
I frown and look back at Perry, who narrows his eyes at his grandfather.
“Remember when I said it was a secret grandpa?” He asks with a sigh, “A secret?”
“You’re building a game?” I wiggle in my seat and lean back into it. “Wait a second; was that what the packages where you kept getting at the office?”
Perry’s eyes scan my face, and its then I see that he and his mother share the same warm, delicate, chocolate color tone. After a second he runs a hand through his thick brown hair, slowly nodding. “Guilty. They were not Christmas gifts.”
“I knew it.” I shake my head at him. “I knew you were lying.”
He goes back to his salad, and I can hear William grumble something at my grandmother, who in turn, begins to bellyache back at him.
“So,” I say as I reach over for one of the bread rolls. It’s warm and practically comes apart in my hands. I tear off a piece and pop it in my mouth. “What’s the game about?”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he sighs jokingly.
“I can’t believe you just said that.” I shake my head at him as I chew the soft dough.
“It’s a standard nerdy, role playing game involving giants and trolls, and a queen who can turn people into stone,” he answers casually. “Like Medusa.”