My Holiday Reunion

by Parker, Weston

  Lina smiled and thanked him. Then her gaze lifted to the fireplace. “Asher,” she said slowly. “Did you make that stocking for me?”

  Asher turned bright pink and grinned broadly. “Yes. We all thought you should have one of your own.”

  “That is so thoughtful. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome,” Asher said.

  I got to my feet and wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans. “Are you ready to go? Do you have a jacket?”

  She pointed down the hall. “Yeah. It’s at the front door. I’m ready when you are.”

  “Let’s do this thing,” I said.

  We said goodbye to my father and Asher, who was already talking excitedly about what movie he wanted to watch. We could still hear his eager voice as Lina put her jacket on. It was an elegant coat that reached down to her calves. She did up the gold buttons, shuffled her scarf up tighter under her chin, and slid her hands in her pockets. “Ready.”

  It was cold outside but dry. The forecast claimed it would snow later, but for now, we were safe with just a half inch of powder on the sidewalks. The grass was layered with thicker snow that had built up over the last week. There was almost half a foot, and Asher had used it to make a snowman earlier that morning on the front yard. He was a bit lopsided, and the carrot for his nose was a baby carrot. The branches for his arms were two extremely different lengths, and the hat Asher had used was one of his old baseball caps. It looked like I had a toddler made of snow on my lawn.

  We got in the car and drove quietly to downtown. The farther in we got, the more congested it was, and we ended up having to park a few blocks away from the event. We got out of the car, and I offered Lina my arm. She hooked her arm through it, and we walked, linked together, down the sidewalk toward the hustle and bustle of the Christmas Eve special.

  “So, what is this thing anyway?” Lina asked when the entrance came into view.

  “I don’t really know how to explain it. I guess it’s sort of like a market. There’s a stage set up and carolers and other performers. It’s really festive. We used to come every year when we were young. You loved it. It was the highlight of your year.”

  “Why?” she asked curiously.

  I shrugged. “At the time, I never understood why. Christmas wasn’t as big of a deal to me as it was for you. But now that Asher is in the picture, I get it. It’s only as special as you make it.”

  She smiled. “I like that.”

  I didn’t tell her that she was the one who used to tell me that every year. My mother had died when I was young, just two months before Christmas, so it became a sad time of the year for my father and me, and for the longest time, we were incapable of making it happy again. Lina knew I used to get down during the holidays, but she never gave up hope on me. She insisted that we could honor my mother by upholding the traditions she had started for my family.

  That was why I hung the stockings on Christmas Eve. It was why I got a real tree when buying a fake one and keeping it in a box all year long was way easier. It was why, on Christmas morning, I would put my mother’s famous breakfast soufflé in the oven while we opened our stocking stuffers.

  “What are you thinking about?” Lina asked, hugging my arm a little tighter.

  It felt good having her wrapped around me like this. Familiar. “Just the holidays. Memories. Christmas is a special time, don’t you think?”

  She nodded. “I think so. And I don’t even remember any of the Christmases I’ve had.”

  I patted her gloved hand on my arm. “You will.”

  We rounded the corner of an office tower building, and the market came into view. Lina breathed in a gasp of awe as her eyes lit up with the reflection of hundreds of thousands of Christmas lights. She stopped walking, and I stopped beside her.

  I chuckled. “You know, it’s better inside.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Come on. Let me show you.”

  She let me pull her toward the entrance, where children dressed as elves greeted us, handed us schedules for the evening, and offered us the option of a hot cider or hot chocolate. We both opted for cider, which steamed in our hands and smelled like apples as we moved into the market.

  Booths set up in lines created aisles for us to walk through. People were selling homemade decorations ranging from ornaments, to knit throws, to pillow covers. One booth that had been there annually for at least twenty years sold beautiful handmade jewelry. Lina paused to look things over, and had things not been strange, and muddled, and all messed up by this memory-loss thing, I would have bought something for her.

  But things were strange, so we moved away from the booth of sparkly earrings and necklaces, and I bought her a cinnamon roll instead. We stood and ate them in front of the stage, where carolers sang versions of “Silent Night” and “Jingle Bells”. By the third song, Lina was swaying back and forth.

  We moved away from the carolers and continued walking through the market at a slow, steady pace. We stopped for a refill of ciders and then carried on.

  Lina glanced over at me. “Cal? Can I ask you something? I apologize in advance if it sounds weird.”

  “You can ask me anything. Don’t worry about how it sounds.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “Did we, you know, used to date when we were younger?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. We were together for about two years. Our final years of high school.”

  She nodded and sipped her cider, careful not to burn her tongue. “I thought so. And…” She paused and shook her head before laughing at herself. “I’m sorry. I’m almost embarrassed to ask it out loud.”

  “Don’t be. You’re figuring things out. You have to ask.”

  She sighed and looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “Is Asher my son?”

  I smiled and shook my head. “No.”

  She almost seemed disappointed, and then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin a little. “I didn’t think so, but I had to be sure. Then, his mother?”

  “She passed away a few years ago.”

  “I’m sorry, Cal.”

  “It’s all right.” She watched her feet as we walked, and I could read her like a book. Her mood had shifted. Disappointment had set in. “None of this is stirring up any memories for you, is it?”

  Lina lifted her head and looked around at all the lights and all the people. Children were running between their parents’ legs and laughing gleefully. It was nearly eight in the evening. Soon, they would be heading home, where they would be anxiously trying to fall asleep so that Santa could come and go.

  “Nothing is familiar,” she said. “Not even my own reflection. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror for fifteen minutes this morning just staring at myself. It’s so… odd. To look at yourself and see a stranger.” She shook her head, but a smile played in the corners of her mouth. “All I know is I’m really grateful for you and your family. I don’t know what I would do without you, Cal.”

  “I’ll be here for as long as you need me,” I said. And I meant it. But the guilt started to swirl inside me again. I was going to have to come clean with her sooner rather than later. Her life in New York might mean more to her than this world did. It might help her remember better than I could. “Hey, I have one more surprise for you.”

  “Oh?” she asked, and her eyes brightened again.

  “Yeah, follow me,” I said, taking her hand and guiding her through the crowd.

  22

  Lina

  I frowned as we came to an empty corner of the market that was blocked off from the rest of the street by a chain link fence. No one was around as we were standing behind a row of porta potties. I crossed my arms, cramming my hands into my armpits, and watched as Cal dropped to a crouch where the fences came together.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  He smirked. “We’re sneaking out. If we cut across this parking lot, I have a way for us to get up there.” He pointed up to the roof of an office tower building.
>
  “What?”

  “Yeah. We used to do it all the time.”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

  “Don’t be a spoil sport. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

  “How do you know?” I asked as Cal lifted the chain link for us to crawl through.

  He shrugged. “You did back then. Why wouldn’t you know? You’re the same person.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. Cal ducked under the chain and held it up for me. I looked back and forth and tapped the toe of my boot anxiously on the pavement. “I don’t know, Cal. This makes me nervous. Is this illegal?”

  He snorted. “Now you really do sound like your old self.”

  I gave him a flat look. “Sounds like I’ve always been the smarter of the two of us then.”

  Cal motioned for me to follow him. “Hurry up. We both know you’re coming with me, smart ass.”

  He was right. I followed him out under the fence. He took my hand, and we took off running across the unlit parking lot to the office building. He pulled me around the side to a metal door.

  “There’s no way that it’s going to be unlocked,” I told him, crossing my arms.

  “It won’t be,” he said as he raised his knuckles to the door and knocked. Then he pulled me down the alley, and we dove behind a dumpster.

  I pulled the hem of my jacket up as we crouched down to keep it from getting stained. I scowled at him. “This is not my idea of a fun night, just so you know.”

  “Be patient,” Cal said, his eyes alight with childlike glee.

  The door opened. We peered around the dumpster and kept quiet as a security guard looked both ways down the alley, muttered “Damn kids,” and then went back inside.

  Cal launched forward as I stood up and raced for the door. He caught it before it closed and motioned for me to follow him. He put his finger vertically in front of his lips to tell me to keep quiet. I followed him into the building. He closed the door softly behind me, took my hand, and then guided me up a very industrial cement staircase.

  By the time we reached the top floor, we were both huffing and puffing. The door opened up onto a rooftop, and Cal caught it before it closed. He pulled over a wooden door stopper to keep the door propped open and then offered his hand.

  I took it, and we walked to the edge of the roof, where a metal railing stood between us and a long way down. We sat down in front of the railing, rested our arms on it, and hung our legs under to let them dangle off the edge of the building.

  “You never were afraid of heights,” Cal said.

  I looked down at the city below. We had a perfect view of the market. The massive Christmas tree in the middle glowed like a homing beacon, and all the lights around it seemed to sway and dance. If I strained my ears, I could even hear the carolers. They were singing “Oh Holy Night”, and it was beautiful. Angelic.

  The rest of the city was spread out in front of us. “This is incredible,” I said.

  “Always has been,” Cal said.

  I could feel his eyes on me as I gazed out at the view. “You know, this might sound crazy, but I feel lucky. I get to see this for the first time twice.”

  Cal nodded. “Yeah. You do. You’ve always had a better way of looking at things than most people.”

  I leaned back on my hands and stared at his back as he continued to look out at the city. I studied the line of his jaw and his shoulders, the way his Adam’s apple moved when he swallowed. Something strange unfurled itself within me. It wasn’t recognition—or anything to do with me regaining my memory—but it was something I hadn’t felt before. Or, at least, I didn’t have any memory of feeling it.

  It was like a needy heat forming beneath my belly and radiating outward, and looking at him made it grow. I liked it, and yet wanted it to stop, all while wanting it to grow in intensity.

  I swallowed when he looked at me and met my gaze. “Are you all right?” he asked. His voice was deep and husky.

  “Yes,” I said. My voice sounded thin and weak, the opposite of his in every way.

  He arched an eyebrow and smiled. “Good.”

  I licked my lips as he looked back down at the Christmas Eve special twenty floors below. The carolers had switched to a song I didn’t know. “Cal?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What happened to my family?”

  He looked over his shoulder at me. Then he draped his arms over the railing. I sat up straighter and did the same, resting my cheek on the back of my hands as I looked over at him. “I’m sorry, Lina, but your parents died a long time ago. Your father died just before you went to high school, and your mother passed away less than a year later. You lived with your best friend and her parents.”

  “Did you know my mom and dad?”

  He shook his head. “Not as well as I wish I had. I met them a few times, but we were just kids at the time. Your dad was a joker. He got a kick out of embarrassing you in front of your friends any chance he got. And your mom was really sweet. She was one of those ladies who always had home baking on the counter. She wanted to share everything she had with everyone.”

  “They sound nice.”

  “They had to be. They raised you. And you’re nice.”

  I smiled and looked down. “Thank you. I wish they had known you when we dated.”

  “Me too. But you had stand-in parents who did. Their names were Neil and Judy.”

  “Were?”

  “Well,” Cal said, flicking peeled paint from the railing and watching it drift away. “Judy is still around. She has her hands full at the moment, but we’ll see her sometime soon. But Neil passed away in the spring.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Life is shitty like that sometimes.”

  “Like what happened to your wife?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Exactly.”

  I sighed. “Can I ask you another crazy question?”

  Cal laughed and leaned back. He shook his head at me. “Stop saying they’re crazy. None of your questions are crazy. In fact, I feel like you’re not asking nearly enough of them.”

  “Okay. Well, this one feels weird to me. Are—are we a couple now?”

  Cal’s expression shifted. His brow creased, and his eyes fell. “No, we’re not.” There was a story of despair behind those eyes of his and in his voice.

  I had been right in not wanting to ask the question.

  Cal looked down at the lights again, and neither of us said anything for a long while. Even though I could feel the shift in the mood, I could also still feel the uncanny friendship between us. Even way up here, away from everything and everyone, I felt safe. I felt like I was right where I was supposed to be.

  When I went in for my check up, I was going to ask my doctor if that was normal. Surely, it couldn’t be. People in the same situation as me must never feel safe. The confusion and disorientation must prevent that. But for me, it was different. And I knew it was because of Cal.

  Cal got to his feet and offered me his hand. He helped me up, and we dusted gravel from our behinds. He nodded toward the door. “We should get out of here. I still have some gift wrapping to do for Asher, and I want to make sure I make the evidence quite obvious that Santa came to our house tonight.”

  “You’re a good dad, Cal.”

  He smiled. “I try.”

  We walked hand in hand to the door, where we descended the stairs, walked down the alley, and cut across the dark parking lot to walk the few blocks back to his car. Other people were leaving the Christmas event at the same time. Couples walked hand in hand. Children slept in their fathers’ arms or in their strollers, pushed by parents who were going to do the same thing as Cal when they got home.

  Some might even put fake boot prints across the carpet. Others might even get up on the roof.

  I smiled to myself as we approached the car.

  “What are you smiling about?” Cal asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t really know.”

  He chuckled as we got in th
e car. The heat started coming through the vents, and as he pulled away, I rolled my head to the side to look at him. “Thank you for taking me here tonight. Even though it didn’t help me remember, I had a really nice time.”

  Cal smiled at me. That little knot of heat below my belly tightened and grew hotter. I shifted in my seat and pressed my knees together.

  “I had a nice time too,” Cal said.

  We drove the rest of the way home in comfortable silence, and the first snow flurry fell shortly before eleven o’clock. By the time we got home, the driveway was coated in powder. Cal came around to my door and opened it for me, and we walked quietly to the front door, where we snuck in, careful not to disturb the house.

  The tree was still on. The living room looked stunning.

  Cal left the lights off and went into the kitchen. “Are you tired?”

  I shook my head. “No, I was hoping I could help you get everything ready for tomorrow morning, actually.”

  “Oh yeah?” he asked. He sounded almost excited.

  I nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I bet Asher gets up at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning. With two of us working, you’ll be able to get to bed sooner and get some sleep.”

  “See?” Cal winked. “You’re nice. Just like your parents.”

  I smiled and shrugged out of my jacket. I draped it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs to let the snow dry from the shoulders.

  Cal went to his wine stand and grabbed a bottle of red. He held it up. “What do you think?”

  “Wine and Christmas gift wrapping?” I asked. “Lay it on me.”

  Cal poured us each a glass. We took our wine into the living room, where he lit a bunch of cinnamon-scented candles for more light. We left the actual lights off. Cal brought down two big containers full of gifts, and we both set to wrapping.

  It was an adventure. Every present looked different, with colorful ribbons and wrapping and bows. As we were wrapping, Cal leaned over and plucked a plate from the hearth. He put it down between us and picked up a baby carrot. He ate it and went in for another one.