by J. D. Douwes
She’s not even trying to hide that she’s interested in him anymore, that wench.
I go to Harry’s other side and grab his arm to get his attention. “Stuck in traffic? Nice excuse, dude.”
June snorts as she looks down at the lyrics in her hands.
“What do you mean?” he asks, finally making eye contact with me. He’s pale as fuck, accent gone.
“I’ve been trying to reach you since last night.” I swat at his phone. “Then you show up here and lie to me about not having a cell phone?” Harry shrinks away. To Cindy, I say, “He was helping me look for Harry most of this time. How was he stuck in traffic then?”
She looks up to the left, confusion pulling her mouth into a frown.
“I never lied about not having a cell phone.” He gives me his innocent puppy dog look.
“Yeah, sure.” I let out a sigh. “Are we still getting dinner after?”
“Eh, we’ll see.” He turns back to Cindy with a wink. She fluffs her curls as he nuzzles his face into her side, tugging her down. He whispers into her ear, and she blushes, looking at him under her lashes with a grimace, her version of coy. Gross.
I start to ask him why he ditched me after the coffee shop, ready to spit out something that might make him mad but change my mind. I mean, we spent the better part of the last hour searching for Fred together. He’d shared some private things about his dad. That means that he might be ready for the next step in our relationship. You know, changing social media statuses and telling our friends that we’re together. He’s probably just giving into Cindy because it’s easier to hide our relationship until we go public.
Harry rises and shoves past me to get to June, who is people watching. “Hey lady, can I have a songbook? I don’t know the lyrics to our carols.” He gives her an awkward side-hug.
June shrinks away from his touch and smiles. “Sure. Here you go.” A flicker of doubt passes over her features.
“June needs one too, dufus.” I bop him on the arm. Harry gives me a who cares shrug.
Another group of people walk up and start quizzing her.
Marion’s voice carries over everyone’s head. “I have a spare! June, take mine.”
I look down at Harry’s legs as they talk, noticing he’s not as tall as he was earlier. He must have gotten tired of wearing the stilts. Understandable. They would be hard to walk on, especially after we’d been running all over the mall.
June answers the group’s questions and ends up getting a tip for the donation jar.
My eyes wander to the melted patch of fur next to Harry’s tail from when Cindy put out the fire. I’m not sure why he changed into the old costume, but that’s hardly a bad thing.
Fred squats next to his mom, flicking another lighter. I lean down and snatch it from him.
“Where did you guys find Fred?” I put my bag of cookies down.
“He was at the cookie table.”
“I told them I lost my mommy, and they gave me cookies.” Fred grins.
“Why didn’t you answer any of our texts?” Marion crouches next to him.
I’m listening to their conversation with one ear, but most of my attention is on Harry and Cindy.
Fred tugs on my skirt. “Where’s the Krampus that’s been following me?”
I look down at him and scowl, pulling my skirt out of his grubby little hand. “He’s right here. What are you talking about?”
“That’s not the same guy from the garage.”
I shove the kid aside with my leg as he grabs at my skirts again. “Sure, it is. Who else would it be?”
“The other guy is nicer.”
“Nice isn’t Khalie’s type.”
“Shut up, Dina.” I turn my back with a swish of my charred skirt.
Another group walks up to us. June smiles at them and says quietly to us, “Come on, let’s try to get along.” She turns back to help them.
“Don’t be a pest, Fred. How can there be more than one Krampus?” Marion asks.
“She’s right. There can’t be two Krampuses,” Cindy says.
My mind spins, thinking about the past hour. There’s that time when Harry caught me when I stumbled in the garage. We had that sweet conversation about our dads at the bookstore, and he always opened doors for me. He even complimented my voice and asked me what I thought about things. It did feel like a new and improved Harry. He had me falling for him all over again, despite his shortcomings. People change, right? It’s not that unbelievable.
“June,” I say, getting her attention. “I’m going for a walk to clear my head, okay?”
“Good idea. Take a breather. Grab a hot chocolate or something.”
I nod and turn on my heel.
****
I walk through the crowded intersection, staring at the ground. Someone grabs my arm. When I look up, my heart skips a beat.
Cindy tugs me out of the path of foot traffic. “What’s going on between you and Harry?”
“What are you talking about?”
Back at our spot, Harry has his mask and gloves back on, waving at little kids walking by. Seeing him pose for pictures in full costume niggles at my brain. What is it?
“Oh, c’mon, you know what I’m talking about. Good ole Krampus over there.” She gestures to the sexy beast that is Harry.
A baby in a stroller looks up at him and starts screaming, their little mouth wide open, tears streaming down their reddened face. Their mom pushes the stroller away, shooting Harry an angry glance. I start to laugh. “Oh, Harry. Yeah. He’s all right. We hang out once in a while. No big deal.”
Cindy raises her eyebrow, her porcelain skin luminous in the gentle evening light. “You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”
“Nah. I wish.” Harry doesn’t want anyone to know about us. Made me promise that I’d never tell anyone. Besides, there isn’t a whole lot of sleeping going on when we get together.
“You’re lying. I can tell.” Cindy leans in, her turquoise eyes boring holes into me.
I shake her off. “What’s up with the third degree?” Seriously, I’ll work a whole month of overtime to get her on a bus to Canada if it means she’s out of my life.
“Ladies, let’s leave this for later.” June walks up to us. “We’re here as representatives of The NIGHT Crew. We need to be professional.”
“Sure.” Cindy gives her the side-eye. To me, she says, “We’re not done with this conversation,” and sways off in Harry’s direction.
“She’s just jealous.” June and I watch her walk up to Harry. The look on Cindy’s face morphs into her version of a warm smile. Yeah, another shade of grimace.
“But she’s married.”
“And?” June says. “You ever see that stop someone before?”
“Um, lots of people.”
“She’s just lonely. Her husband is never home. Don’t worry. She would never do anything about it. It’s harmless.”
From where we’re standing, I see Harry rooting around in my bag. I push past June and start running. He comes up with the dollar store box full of my cookies, and I watch in horror as he takes the lid off and pulls out a handful. He tilts back the mask and raises a kolache to his lips. My heart starts to pound. That selfish asshole!
“Stop!” I scream, holding my skirts in my hands and leaping the last three feet to his side.
It makes no difference. By the time I’ve crossed the gap between us, Harry’s not only chomping away on another cookie, but he’s holding out the box for others to take one as well.
“You have no right to eat those cookies. I baked them using my oma’s special recipe to donate to the charity booth over there. Stop eating them, now!” I yank the box out of his hands. There are maybe seven cookies gone by now.
“What kind of cookies are these? They’re delicious.”
I sigh, snapping the lid on with a click. “They’re Apricot Kolaches.” I’m so done with him. And to think I was just falling back in love with him, even getting ready to buy him dinn
er, and ask him to be my boyfriend.
“They’re so flakey. Wow, you’ve got mad baking skills.” Crumbs spray out of Harry’s mouth as he speaks. I should be flattered, but this is the last straw.
“You should ask before you start eating other people’s food.”
“What’s the big deal?”
“What’s the big deal?” My voice is so high it doesn’t even sound like mine. “They’re not yours!” Is he really that selfish?
I’m just done. This is my moment to shine, and I can see it slipping away. I wanted to prove that all the hard work I put in perfecting my warble, all that money mom threw away on voice lessons when I was a teenager, would finally pay off.
Angrily, I stuff what’s left of the Kolaches into my bag. “I’m going to drop the cookies off at the cookie booth.”
“Good idea,” Marion says.
“I’m sorry that happened, Khalie. He didn’t know you made them special for the bake sale,” June says, trying to smooth things over.
“It’s fine.” I don’t want to take my anger out on her.
“No hurry.” Dina shoves greasy hair behind her ear. “That short woman with the spikey hair said we’ve got some time. They don’t start with the caroling until six thirty.”
I nod, my body flooding with adrenaline. Funny how it clears your head.
“Be back in a half-hour,” someone yells to my back. Probably Marion again. She’s so bossy. I wave my hand at them to let them know I’d heard and stomp off.
Chapter 6
It’s gotten colder, with more snowflakes spinning in the air. I pass someone dressed as Santa, ho-ho-ho-ing and waving at the crowd. “Hi Khalie,” he says.
I stop and look at him. “Do I know you?”
“So good to see you all grown up.”
Now, that’s just creepy. “Uh, I knew you when I was a kid?”
He laughs, holding his jiggling belly. “You could say I’ve known you since you were born.” He winks. His costume is way better than everyone else’s tonight. And then I remember the elf from earlier. Both of them look great.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t recognize you. What’s your name?”
He laughs again. “Santa to the kids, but since you’re all grown up now, you can call me Kris.”
I wrack my brain for someone named Kris and come up blank. Probably one of my stepdad’s old friends. “Oh, uh. Nice to see you again.”
A bum dressed in grungy oversized clothes stumbles past us, the ripe aroma of pee and alcohol singeing my nostrils. “Spare some change?” He holds his fingerless-gloved hand out, palm up.
“Do I look like a bank?” I pull back.
“Fuck you.” The rank man tugs his grey skull cap down and wanders off.
Santa watches the whole exchange, a perplexed look on his face. “Khalie, it wouldn’t hurt to try kindness for a change. You never know how close you are to being out on the streets yourself.”
I ponder his words, thinking how I’d gone from renting my own one-bedroom apartment to moving into a studio. After a stint of sleeping on other people’s couches, I’m now renting a room in a cranky old cat-ladies house. He’s not wrong.
“I’m sorry. I just feel awful, and I’m having a terrible day, and I have to get these cookies to the bake sale booth.” Tears burn my eyes. “And I’m supposed to sing in the caroling competition, but I don’t think I’m welcome there anymore.”
The dam breaks, and I’m ugly crying now, the tears freezing before they get even halfway down my face.
“Hey, hey, hey. It will all work out. Just you wait and see.” Santa pats my shoulder.
His costume is exactly what I imagine Santa would wear if he were real. Maybe Santa and the elf are from the same talent agency.
“Thank you. I appreciate your kindness. But I need to go.” I turn to continue my journey. “Merry Christmas,” I call out and walk away to his ‘Ho ho ho Merry Christmas’ calling after me.
A siren blips at the end of the street about two blocks away. The crowd seems to be migrating in that direction, clearing a path for me in the swirling snow. What the heck is going on? I continue to the cookie booth, pushing in front of a rag-tag line of people, waiting their turn to buy cookies and cocoa.
A dumpy-looking woman wearing a Santa hat and glued on elf ears stares at me, brows knit together. The skinny man I’d seen earlier making rounds to all the singing groups sits next to her.
It’s her left ear, the glue dried in crusty chunks on her jaw that I’m staring at when I start to talk. “Excuse me. I’m dropping off cookies.”
The woman looks up and points to the end of the line. “Sorry ma’am, you’ll need to stand in line. First come, first serve!”
“Did you hear what I just said? I’m dropping off cookies for you to sell.” My words are slow and concise.
“Oh, I heard you okay. Go to the back of the line, and I’ll help you when it’s your turn.”
“But,” I begin to say.
“Back of the line.” She gestures her pointing finger twice to show the path she wants me to take.
“Fine.” I stomp off to the back of the line, shoving past the stupid people wasting my time. Man, that woman is cranky. She’s going to make me miss the competition. Who cares if I’m not welcome; I’m not going to let the Harry-Cindy business and that little shit Fred ruin my night.
About seven minutes later, enough time for my headache to come back full force and that strange underwater feeling to come back, it’s my turn. The cranky woman says, “What can I get for you today?” as if we’d never talked at all.
I pull out my box of cookies and drop them on the table. “Here you go. The NIGHT Crew’s contribution.”
She pulls out a sheet of paper and plops it in front of me. “Did you fill out one of these yet?”
“I’m sorry I forgot.” I pull out the completed form from my bag.
“Perfect.” She roots under the table for another clipboard with a handful of papers on it. “Go ahead and print your name right here.” She points with a ballpoint pen, “and sign here, and put the time there.”
I lean forward and scribble what she asks for, wishing I could just lie down and take a nap.
“Are you having a good night?” she asks.
I want to laugh. Does she not remember I was just here? “Oh yeah, great.” I yawn and straighten up, shouldering my bag.
“Good! You didn’t have any problems with that monster walking around, did you?”
This stops me in my tracks. “Monster?”
“Yeah, tall guy in a furry brown costume, horns, wicker basket.” She gestures horns with her fingers for effect.
“Um, no one like that is bothering me.” I back up. What kind of trouble has Harry gotten himself into? “Is that why the cops are here?”
“Oh yeah, someone from the sandwich store called them. Scared off all their customers, the manager said.”
Oh, dear. “Gee, that’s terrible. I haven’t seen him.” I clear my throat. “Sorry, gotta go.” I turn and power walk back to our spot.
Do I tell Harry the cops are after him? Should we hide him? What if he gets arrested? I break into a half jog, working myself into a frenzy.
If he gets arrested, we won’t be able to perform. They’ll probably just kick us out of the competition, right? A hugely pregnant woman waddles against the grain of the oncoming foot traffic, stopping me short. My heart slams in my chest, making my head hurt even worse. I change course and dash around her. This has to be the worst night of my life. Harry will get arrested, and we’re not going to be able to compete, and it’s all that little shit’s fault. Fuck Dina. Fuck Freddy.
No, wait a minute. Figgy Pudding is a big deal. I can’t let them take this away from me. We can sing without Harry; we’ve been practicing without him for a month.
I’m so close I can see people stopping in front of our group, asking questions, and tossing money into the Figgy Pudding donation bucket.
Harry is waving like one of those m
echanized toys, letting everyone else do the talking. It would be hard to talk in a mask anyway. Just the sight of him and I can feel the connection we’d formed earlier today vibrating through me, dampening my headache. We can’t let him get arrested. He’s, like, the reason for the season. We need him here to help us pull this off.
I run over to my group and do the only thing I can think of to keep Harry from getting arrested.
****
Everyone is quiet, looking over the lyrics when I trot up to them. “Hey, June,” I call out. “Can I talk to you in private? I think you might want to hear this.”
“Sure, sounds good.” She turns her back to the group. “Go ahead?”
Something about the way she’s standing and the looks on the other’s faces raises my hackles. “Did I miss something?”
“Nothing exciting going on here.” She angles her body so I can’t see the rest of the group. I try to look around her, but she shifts with me. June isn’t a tiny thing, now add in her giant hat and voluminous clothing, and she’s doing a fine job of preventing me from seeing what’s going on behind her.
“I wanted to say this in private, but whatever. Did you hear that the police are here? Someone at the cookie booth asked me if the monster had been bugging me.”
June’s mouth drops open, and she turns around. “You don’t think they’re talking about Harry, do you? I mean, he’s been here the whole time.”
“There are two Krampuses. I told you. Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?” Fred whines.
Dina kicks at him. “You’re in trouble, mister. Shut it.”
“What did he do now?” I duck and twist around them to try and see what they’re hiding.
Cindy and Harry are up close to each other, Harry’s hand under Cindy’s chin, their lips locked together. My stomach gurgles in protest.
I lunge on them, circling Cindy’s neck with my hands, yelling, “Noooo! He’s mine!”
Cindy starts to scream in a strained voice, scratching at me. “Get off of me!”
“What the hell are you doing?” Harry yanks me off Cindy, his eyes wild. “Khalie’s crazy. Someone help me here.”
“I’m not crazy. You’re a lazy, cheating asshole!” I’m panting, his grip on my arms so tight it hurts.