Christmas Cliché

by Tara Sivec

  Realizing I’m never going to get back to sleep now, I slowly crack open one of my eyes and come face-to-face with one of Santa’s elves. My head pops up from the pillow with a small yelp of fright. When my eyes move away from the elf and focus on an entire table of my worst nightmare, I quickly scramble up into a sitting position on the couch, wrapping my arms around my bent legs, all while screaming at the top of my lungs. It takes a few seconds of screaming before I fully wake up and finally shut my mouth, trying to control my breathing before I have a heart attack.

  “Oh good! She’s not dead.”

  Glancing toward the end of the couch when I hear the female voice that was talking while I was trying to sleep a few minutes ago, I see a blonde around my age standing there. At least, I think she’s a blonde. There are only a few wisps of her bangs hanging down over her forehead, since she’s wearing a fuzzy reindeer onesie, complete with antlers and a red nose.

  Looking away from her and back to the other end of the couch closest to me, sure enough, there stands a three-foot tall elf, still staring at me.

  So, I didn’t dream that. Wonderful. I’m obviously still stoned.

  Everything quickly comes back to me, from flying out to West Virginia at the spur of the moment, to driving the car off the road, to getting roofied by Millie, and then being rescued by a really good-looking guy with a sexy, southern twang to his raspy voice, whose face I’m fairly certain I tried to pet.

  “Did I hit my head?” I ask in confusion, looking away from the elf that I now realize is a small child wearing green elf pajamas, bringing my hand up and pressing it against my forehead when I suddenly feel a throbbing behind my eyes.

  “Oh my God, Jason, did she hit her head?” Rudolph asks, reaching over and smacking a guy in the arm I just noticed was standing a few feet away from her by the door, bent over away from us, balancing on one foot as he pulls a boot off and tosses it to the ground with a thunk. When he stands up and turns around to face me, I recognize him immediately.

  He’s our rescuer. And he’s just as cute as I remember, with short, dirty blonde hair and a hint of a five o’clock shadow.

  “She didn’t hit her head.” Jason scoffs, walking around whoever this Jen person is and across the room to stand in front of the small fireplace, holding his hands in front of the flames. “I don’t know why she passed out. Probably lack of brain cells. Which also explains all the screaming.”

  Never mind. He’s not that good looking. Pfft. I’ve seen better.

  “It’s the chocolate wearing off. She’ll be fine,” Millie states with a wave of her hand as she walks into the room and stops on the other side of the coffee table.

  The coffee table filled with my nightmares.

  “And the screaming is from these little wooden men littering your coffee table. Allie has a slight fear of nutcrackers,” Millie informs the room with a small laugh.

  “Shut up. They’re creepy,” I mutter, wondering why there are so damn many of them sitting on this table, staring at me with their big, chompy teeth.

  “Nutfuckers!” the little elf girl standing next to the couch says excitedly, pointing at the coffee table.

  “That word doesn’t mean what you think it does. It’s nutcracker,” Millie tells the little girl.

  “Nutfucker!” the adorable little elf shouts, her blonde curls bouncing with her exuberance.

  “Nut-cracker,” Millie says again, leaning over to the table closer to the little girl and slowly enunciating her words.

  “Nutfu—”

  “Okay,” Jen finally interrupts, struggling to keep a straight face as she walks over and scoops up the little girl before glaring over at Jason. “Thanks for your help with that, by the way.”

  “Hey, she’s your kid. I think it’s hilarious she calls them nutfuckers.” Jason laughs.

  He has a nice laugh. And Jen isn’t his wife, and that isn’t his adorable daughter. That’s nice.

  What? What is wrong with me? I’m definitely still high. Who cares? I’m here to find myself or some shit and forget about everything else. No time for cute mountain men with nice laughs.

  “Anyway, I’m Jen, this is my annoying older brother Jason, and this one with the truck driver mouth is Madison,” she says, nuzzling her nose into the side of the little girl’s neck until Madison squeals with delight. “Your friend Millie and I already established how lucky you guys are. I’m your cousin Jamie’s friend Jen from college, whose family owns The Redinger House. Nice work getting stuck at the end of my brother’s driveway. She called me hours ago and told me you guys were coming. My parents and I were all over here trying to get my Scrooge of a brother to start decorating his place for Christmas when she called. They left to head back to the house to make up your rooms, and then the snow really started coming down, so Maddy and I decided to hunker down for the night instead of going back.”

  When Jen is finished explaining everything and Millie has moved around the table to sit next to me on the couch, I feel a little bit less like I’m in the Twilight Zone and possibly about to be murdered by someone with a nutcracker obsession. I’m just happy we sort of made it to our destination in one piece.

  “I know this is going to sound weird after the gas station incident,” Millie whispers in my ear while Jason continues warming his hands by the fire, and Jen quietly talks to her daughter about how she needs to be good to stay on Santa’s nice list. “But these people have no idea who we are either! Jen was just talking to me like I was a regular person. Can you imagine? I bet they don’t have television or internet, poor things. I mean, wait until you see the bathroom. There’s only one toilet in there! So cute.”

  “I’m sorry I got stuck at the end of your driveway. I hope it won’t cause a problem.” My voice comes out a little squeaky when I speak to Jason, like I’m talking to a cute boy for the first time in my life. “The GPS told me to turn, and I thought I saw tire tracks in the snow, so I turned. And then couldn’t move the car.”

  Since I’m not actually talking to Jason, but to Jason’s back as he continues staring into the fire without turning around, when he mutters something under his breath, I can’t quite make it out. But I swear I heard him say “lack of brain cells” again in there somewhere.

  Jerk.

  “Well, you were close.” Jen laughs. “In about ten more feet, you would have seen the road on the right that will take you to The Redinger House, and the little cobblestone street on this side of the mountain with a few other small, family-run businesses. When Jason built this cabin a few years ago, he didn’t realize that a couple times a year when it’s really snowy out and you can’t see the road signs, people will mistake his driveway for the road they want. It’s happened before.”

  “Just not with people who don’t know how to dress for a blizzard in the middle of December,” Jason says in a low, annoyed voice, finally turning away from the fire to cross his arms over his chest and give me another pointed stare.

  Jesus, what is his problem? I didn’t burn his house down; I got stuck at the end of his driveway.

  Refusing to appreciate how nicely he fills out that gray sweater he’s wearing, and how guys should really start wearing sweaters more often, I mirror his pose. Crossing my arms over my chest, the bell sleeves of the stupid sarongs I’m still wearing over my jeans and tee get all tangled up in my hands until it takes me a few seconds of wrestling and jerking my arms around to get free, and I finally cross my arms with a huff.

  “I didn’t exactly plan to be in a blizzard in the middle of December,” I fire back in annoyance. “This was a last-minute trip I did not prepare for, obviously. I walked away from my life, because I was triggered by a triangle! I walked away from my responsibilities—and a closet full of warm clothes that I really wish I would have brought with me, because I still can’t feel my feet—and I drove in a blizzard for the first time in my life and it was scary, and then I got really stoned and thought I killed a dog, and I just want to sleep until this stupid holiday is over. Is tha
t too much to ask?”

  My voice continued to rise and rise through that word vomit, and I have to quickly blink back tears when I finish before I start blubbering all over the place and look like even more of an idiot than I already do.

  “Nobody panic, she’s just having another breakdown,” Millie announces, patting my back when I lean forward and drop my head to my knees. “I only have twenty-five Xanax left, and those have to last me until next week. Otherwise, I’d totally give you one. Maybe we can find you something else. Jen, do you by any chance have a driver I could speak with?”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine,” I tell Millie, lifting my head, dropping my feet to the ground, and pushing up from the couch.

  Squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin, I look at Jason with confidence I don’t feel, because I’m just so damn tired. And annoyed. And my word vomit just made me remember what I did and the chaos I left behind back at home for my mom to deal with, the guilt starting to rear its ugly head again.

  “If you could just take us to the bed-and-breakfast, we’ll get out of your hair and leave you in peace.”

  Jason just chuckles. “No.”

  “Excuse me?” I ask.

  “The Redinger House is around the other side of the mountain. Roads are closed, and I’m not going back out in that shit to take you there on the snowmobile.” He sighs, sounding more annoyed than I am right now.

  “The mountain man had to carry you up here in the snow when you passed out,” Millie explains, making me groan softly.

  No wonder this guy is annoyed. He had to carry me through a blizzard and then deal with Millie while I was down for the count on his couch.

  “How did you get up here then?” I ask her, knowing damn well she wouldn’t walk if I got to be carried.

  Please, God, don’t tell me she made Jason come back and carry her as well.

  “I drove the snowmobile. And before you ask, yes, I knew how to drive it, and I did quite well, thank you very much. I had to drive a forklift to get out of a sticky situation in Bangkok at a jewelry sale. Those women went crazy over the sapphires. They didn’t even have perfect clarity….” Millie trails off.

  “What my brother was trying to say a minute ago is that he would love for the two of you to be guests in his home with us this evening, and we’ll be sure to get you over to The Redinger House first thing in the morning. Right, Jason?” Jen asks him brightly.

  I look over at Jason, and he doesn’t share her bright smile. It’s more of a grimace.

  “Right,” he finally spits out in a clipped voice before curling up the corner of his mouth in a fake smile and switching over to an even faker voice. “If you’ll be so kind as to follow me, I’ll show you ladies to your accommodations for this evening.”

  With another bothered sigh, Jason turns and walks away from the fireplace to a hallway on the other side of it. Since we clearly don’t have any other option, there’s not much else to do but go with him. Jen tells us she and Maddy will be in the room across from us and to come get her if we need anything. Which is clearly what I planned on doing anyway, since I’m not about to ask Jason for a thing.

  “Just so you are aware,” Millie whispers in my ear as we start to head in the direction Jason went, “I’ve already seen the accommodations. Brace yourself. They do not have St. Geneve Eiderdown Pillows. I don’t know how we’re going to get any sort of sleep. But I’m totally loving this for you. You already look relaxed.”

  When we get to Jason who’s waiting for us in the middle of the hallway right outside an open bedroom, Millie moves ahead of me and disappears into the room.

  “It only took me five steps to get from one side of the room to the other!” Millie exclaims from inside the bedroom when I stop right outside in front of Jason. “It’s so cute! It reminds me of the yurt I stayed in when I was in Columbia this one time. Well, I didn’t actually stay there; it was more of kidnapping for ransom thing. But after that, it was super chill.”

  “Is she serious?” Jason mutters in shock.

  “Sadly, yes,” I reply, moving past him and ignoring how good he smells as I turn around to face him in the doorway while Millie gently bounces up and down on the end of the bed, checking its firmness.

  “I’m sorry again for getting stuck at the end of your driveway.”

  “What are your organic tea choices, and is it possible to get a charcuterie tray sent to our room?” Millie shouts from behind me on the bed.

  “And I’m really sorry for all this,” I add, pointing between myself and Millie.

  “It’s fine. I’m just sorry my cabin isn’t up to L.A. standards,” Jason says with a little bit of bite to his voice.

  So he does know who I am.

  “Yes, I know who you are, Allie Parker,” he says next, answering the shocked look that must be on my face. “You’ll be happy to know we do have cable and internet way out here in bumfuck West Virginia.”

  He lays the accent on thick at the end, and I want to march into the room and kick Millie in the shin for not being quieter when she said that in the living room when she thought they didn’t know who we were.

  “She wasn’t being mean,” I explain. “Millie is just… Millie. And I don’t always expect people to know who I am, so I’m sorry if I was a little shocked to know that you do. It has nothing to do with thinking you wouldn’t be able to watch my family’s show or follow them on social media. It’s more me just assuming a guy like you wouldn’t give two shits about that sort of stuff.”

  “A guy like me?” he asks. “And what type of guy is that exactly?”

  “I don’t know. A… manly one,” I say, spitting out the first word I can think of and then wanting to take it right back.

  Jason laughs, a real smile finally showing up on his face, and I curse under my breath.

  Dammit. Now he’s hotter.

  “I meant annoying,” I quickly amend, which makes him chuckle again.

  “Be nice. This annoying, manly man is letting you stay in his house for the night,” Jason warns me, but I can hear the humor in his voice.

  “I think it’s a bit of a stretch to call this a house, but okay.” Millie laughs from behind me. “Very cute though!”

  Before Jason changes his mind about letting us stay here, and hoping he doesn’t call every tabloid and news outlet from here to California by the time I wake up, I thank him and tell him goodnight.

  With a quick explanation where the bathroom is, and letting us know we can help ourselves to anything in the kitchen whenever we want, Jason turns and walks down the hallway and back out into the living room. I gently close the door behind me, wanting nothing but to get under the covers and forget this day ever happened.

  “We have to get our own food. It’s just mind-boggling,” Millie says with a shake of her head as I walk over to the bed and flop down face-first into the pillows.

  At least I don’t have to worry about waking up in a Christmas wonderland tomorrow. Jen called Jason a Scrooge, and judging by the total lack of anything Christmas in his cabin, aside from the stupid coffee table of nutcrackers, I’d have to agree.

  Thank goodness. At least one thing is going right for me.

  “Your vagina says otherwise.”

  I’m having the best dream about being curled up under a bunch of blankets, in a pitch-dark room with nothing but my laptop and another season of Suits on Netflix. I start hearing the opening jingle to Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You,” and I don’t remember Suits having a Christmas episode. It starts making this dream of mine turn into a little bit of a nightmare.

  I realize I’m not dreaming a few seconds later when I hear someone who actually took private singing lessons—from Mariah Carey—butchering the song as she sings along to it at the top of her off-key lungs.

  “Millie, it is way too early for this shit,” I grumble, having no clue what time it actually is. “And why, for the love of God, are you singing Christmas music? Do you want to kill me?”

  When I ma
ke the mistake of opening my eyes, I wonder if Millie roofied me with pot chocolate again while I slept. When I passed out for the second time last night, this room was your typical spare bedroom with a queen bed, blue quilt, cedar dresser with absolutely nothing on it or in it, and two matching cedar nightstands with two indistinct lamps on them.

  Now? Now it looks like someone moved this bed I’m in to the Christmas aisle of Target overnight and Millie went shopping.

  The top of the empty dresser is now filled with a small tree with lights that is surrounded by a lit-up Christmas village with at least six ceramic houses, along with a handful of accompanying little ceramic Christmas village figurines. Both nightstands have so many different Christmas knickknacks on them that you can barely see the lamps anymore. Multicolored Christmas lights are strung around the one window in the room, around the doorway, and around the door to the closet, and random framed Christmas signs and pictures have been hung all over the walls. There’s a four-foot-tall Christmas tree in the one empty corner of the room, fully decorated, with wrapped packages under it, and Millie is wearing a bulky, hideous, red-and-green Christmas sweater with giant, multicolored Christmas bulbs stitched all over it, over top of the designer baby doll dress she’s had on since yesterday.

  Sitting up slowly as Millie continues to sing, bop along to the music playing from somewhere else in the cabin, and check out her reflection in the mirror above the dresser, I hug the blue quilt closer to my chest, wondering what the hell is going on. Looking down, I blink a few times and rub my eyes when I realize the boring blue quilt I face-planted on last night has been replaced with a thick, puffy, white comforter with red and gray reindeer and trees all over it. Quickly scrambling around in bed, I look down at my pillow and, sure enough, the blue pillowcase from last night now has a tree and reindeer one on it that matches the comforter.

  “What the fuck?” I screech, the noise making Millie whirl around from the dresser across from the foot of the bed.