Christmas Cliché

by Tara Sivec

  “She’s nuts, but I’m glad you have her,” Jason says softly.

  “Me too. I wouldn’t be here without her pushing me to get a life.”

  Jason lifts our joined hands, and I lift my head from its spot nestled on his shoulder in time to see him kiss the top of my hand.

  “I’m glad she did.”

  We check out the view of Christmas lights for a while, giving me enough time for my heart to stop trying to beat its way out of my chest, as Jason tells me stories about trolley rides while he was growing up. I also get my first look at the “fancy” side of the mountain when we get over there and slowly drive by, seeing all of the restaurants and ski resorts and upscale shopping, everything with matching, professional, upscale lighting displays. It’s nice, and it’s definitely beautiful, but it’s packed with people, and there’s just so much going on. It makes me long for the quiet peacefulness of the small, cobblestone road on the other side of the mountain.

  “That’s the company I work for,” Jason says, pointing out a tall building nestled in between two ski resorts.

  I look at his profile in the glow of the Christmas lights, and there’s a big smile on his face as he looks at where he works, which is something I don’t think I’ve ever seen.

  “You love your job,” I muse.

  “I do. I get to build things from the ground up. And my boss trusts me to know what I’m doing, so I can pretty much do whatever I want.” He shrugs with a laugh, looking down at me when we pull out away from the chaos and people, and buildings and homes start spreading out again along the base of the mountain. “But, I do need to cut back a little. Which is something my boss has been telling me to do for years. As much as it sucks to think about, my parents aren’t going to be around forever. I need to spend more time helping them out at the bed-and-breakfast, and not complaining so much. Appreciate the traditions that have been important to them since before I was born, so I can carry them on after they’re gone.”

  “That’s all they really want,” I tell him. “They don’t want to annoy you. They just want to spend time with you, because they love you. And that’s what the holidays are supposed to be about. Spending time with family. You’re a lucky man.”

  We’re quiet for a few minutes before Jason speaks.

  “Have you heard from your family since you got here? They must have been worried about you.”

  I don’t know why I’m still carrying my cell phone around with me everywhere. It’s still just as quiet as it’s been since I first powered it back up.

  “Nope. Not since I first walked out of the house and they lost their shit,” I tell him with a cheerful smile that does not feel cheerful at all. “Which is exactly what I wanted. Peace and quiet.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jason immediately says in a soft, concerned voice.

  He can see right through my fake smile, because he already knows me better in a small handful of days than my own family does after knowing me all my life. That weight pushing me away from L.A. gets heavier and heavier.

  “I just didn’t want them to depend on me for every single thing. I didn’t want them to not need me at all. Or not even care,” I admit quietly.

  “I wish I had the magic words to make things better, but I don’t. So, I’ll just say that you haven’t even been here a week yet, and I can’t imagine going an hour without talking to you,” Jason says honestly. “And in case you haven’t noticed, my family has kind of needed you this week. My mom would have killed everyone with her cooking, and that just isn’t great PR.”

  He makes me laugh, in spite of my depressing thoughts, and he reaches into his coat pocket with his free hand, pulling out an ornament and handing it over to me.

  “And, my family also cares. That’s your official trolley Christmas ornament, but my mom had yours made different from everyone else’s,” Jason says, as I hold the small, red glass ball up closer to the window so the glow from the Christmas lights can help me see what’s on it. “Everyone else’s ornament has a picture of The Redinger House painted on them, with the year and the words What happens at The Redinger House during Christmas stays at The Redinger House during Christmas!”

  When I can finally see my ornament, I laugh once again when I see Joy had a picture of my rental car painted in a snowdrift, with the year, and the words Crash into Christmas at The Redinger House! Or, Jason’s driveway.

  I’m so overcome with happiness and emotion that I immediately turn my head to lean in and show Jason my gratitude with a kiss. And wind up slamming my forehead right into his when the trolley goes over a huge pothole in the road that, for some reason, is the only pothole in this entire state not filled with snow.

  “Wow, I should not have done that,” I complain, holding my hand against my head while Jason groans softly and does the same.

  “I really thought you would like the ornament. I didn’t realize it would involve a head butt. Now I’m concerned about what I got you for Christmas.” Jason laughs, making my headache immediately go away when he mentions he got me something for Christmas.

  God, I’m a mess. I shouldn’t be allowed to have any kind of interaction with the opposite sex.

  “Don’t worry—my hand is over my eyes and I’m not looking at anything!” Millie says in a loud stage-whisper.

  She stumbles along the aisle, one hand covering her eyes and the other smacking around, hitting people’s heads and shoulders as she tries to find her original seat in front of us. When she finally finds it and falls into it ungracefully, she somehow manages to keep her hand over her eyes as she turns around to blindly look in our general direction.

  “Still not looking! Keep doing what you’re doing!” Millie whispers.

  Unclasping my hand from Jason’s, I lean forward and pull Millie’s hand away from her eyes.

  She glances back and forth between us before rolling her eyes and huffing. “You’re still fully clothed.”

  “As one should be, on a trolley with other people, looking at Christmas lights,” I deadpan.

  “Did we learn nothing from talking about those Christmas movies all evening? Also, have we learned nothing from the years and years of What Would Millie Do archives? YOLO, people! YOLO,” she complains.

  “I believe that’s exactly why our clothes are still on,” Jason mutters. “I don’t want to die. Or go to prison.”

  “It was only that one time I went to jail for a misunderstanding about fifty-seven unpaid parking tickets, and don’t let anyone else fool you. The strip search is totes fun, as long as you get into the spirit of things and don’t take it so seriously,” Millie informs us, before turning around to talk to the elderly woman in front of her about all the contraband you can successfully hide inside of your body cavities.

  “So, after this trolley ride, we have family game night down in the basement. Tradition,” Jason says with a smile, as the trolley slowly pulls up in front of The Redinger House. “My mom obviously can’t cook, and Jen isn’t much better but can manage a bunch of appetizers. There will be a ton of food and drinks, and everyone puts on Christmas pajamas and hangs out down there all night. Want to be my date?”

  “Will you let me win every game I play against you?” I ask with a playful bat of my eyelashes.

  “Absolutely not. I will kick your ass. And when I do, you have to tell me whether or not Die Hard is a Christmas movie,” Jason replies with a wink as the overhead lights come back on, and we all start getting off the trolley.

  “Not gonna happen, buddy.” I laugh.

  Jason takes my hand in his, pulling me down the aisle behind him, never letting go as we step down off the trolley and bring up the rear behind everyone else. With each joke he makes about kicking my ass in whatever game we’re going to play, while I snuggle into the side of him as we walk up the front porch steps, for just a little while, I forget all about the silent cell phone in my back pocket and the people on the other side of the country who don’t seem to miss me at all.

  “If that isn’t a red flag for a
tiny penis, I don’t know what is.”

  “What do you mean you haven’t slept with him yet?”

  I look at Millie blankly as she stares at me in shock, both of us sitting cross-legged on the Grinch comforter on my bed, killing time until game night starts.

  “I’ve known him for four days!”

  Even though it feels like a lot longer than that.

  “Oh, sweetie.” Millie laughs with a shake of her head. “By day four, I would have already been proposed to. By him and his brother.”

  “Jason doesn’t have a brother.”

  “We’re talking about me now,” Millie says with a dreamy look in her eyes. “It was the summer of 2010, right after my second boob job, and Tobias and Tony were both blessed with huge—”

  “Millie!” I interrupt with a roll of my eyes, when she holds her hands up in front of her about a foot apart.

  She sighs, focusing back on me instead of whatever the hell she was reminiscing about.

  “He put new Christmas pajamas in your door sock tonight, because he knew you didn’t have any to wear to this game night thing,” Millie reminds me.

  I smile to myself as I look down at the pajamas I found in the stocking hanging on my door when I got back up here after the trolley ride. I got held up for a few minutes in the entryway, talking to Missy about the menu for tomorrow when she was on her way out for the night, and Jason must have snuck up here then and put them in my stocking. Red-and-green-striped, fitted cotton joggers with a matching green, fitted, long-sleeved tee that, of course, has a nutcracker on it. Right below his creepy, open mouth are the words Crushed it!

  “Jen told me he hasn’t gone back to his place since you got here,” Millie continues. “He’s been staying in an extra room this whole time. I would like to think it’s because he’s hoping you’ll sleepwalk right onto his dick in the middle of the night, but it’s probably just because he’s, like… sweet, or something, and just wants to be close to you. Plus, he gave you those gross peppermint things you won’t stop eating, and he put candy in your smelly shoes, which I still don’t understand and think is completely unhygienic, but whatever. And he stares at you all the time when you aren’t looking. And for the first time since he got his job right out of college, he’s taking the holidays off and spending more time here with his family.”

  “Why are you telling me things I already know?” I ask when she finally finishes.

  Although the staring thing is a brand new development, and I’d like to discuss it more, please.

  “Because you’re clearly forgetting these things; otherwise, you’d be naked in bed with him, instead of sitting here talking to me.”

  “This is crazy, right? I mean, I just met him. Things like this don’t happen to me. Guys like him don’t happen to me. And I like it here. I more than like it here. When I think about going back to L.A., I want to vomit,” I tell her honestly. “Missy told me earlier there are a ton of chef positions on the other side of the mountain with all the new resorts going up. Places that will let you learn as you go and give you time to go to school. And she also told me her aunt wants to retire soon, but she won’t do it until she finds someone she trusts to take over cooking here at The Redinger House.”

  Just saying that out loud makes me so excited I want to jump up and down on the bed. And then smack myself in the face for being so ridiculous. I can’t just start a new life here in West Virginia on a whim, because I feel happy for the first time in forever.

  “It’s the Christmas magic.” Millie nods knowingly.

  “What?”

  “Seriously, you have got to spend a few hours watching those Christmas movies with me and Jen, Allie,” Millie scolds. “There’s always Christmas magic. It probably made you crash the rental at the end of the driveway. It definitely caused the blizzard that stranded us here, and it absolutely brought you a single, very good-looking mountain man. It sent your cousin to Florida, it gave you your Christmas spirit back, and it definitely changed me into a much better person. I mean, can you even stand to be in the same room with me? I’m so selfless no one in L.A. will even recognize me when I get back. I might even let our cleaning lady go through the clothes I don’t want when she takes them to the trash. Now, all we need is a snowball fight, an angel from the top of the tree to come to life and grant some sort of wish, and an ice skating adventure, where one of you skates like a baby deer walking for the first time and the other seems to be professionally trained for some reason.”

  “No more made-for-TV Christmas movies for you,” I order, pointing my finger at her. “This isn’t Christmas magic. It’s just insane. I’m insane. I’m seriously thinking about never, ever going back to California after only being here for four days.”

  I laugh, and it comes out a little high-pitch and hysterical.

  “I’m pretty sure my family is ignoring me because they hate me, and not because they’re giving me space, like you so nicely put it. I left a dumpster fire behind, and instead of fixing that problem, I’m ignoring it, because this goddamn mountain air has made me crazy!” I ramble. “Jason told me I just fit here, and I feel it. I feel like me here. I feel like I know who I am when I’m here, and like I can actually have things I want, and do things I want. I feel lost when I’m in L.A. and like everything is out of my reach. I feel needed here, for something other than being a glorified babysitter, and it’s nice. And it’s crazy.”

  Millie reaches over and grabs my hands, squeezing them tightly before letting go. “Please, I beg you, test out the merchandise before you make any drastic decisions,” Millie pleads, folding her hands together in prayer under her chin. “Let’s not forget that DJ I married in Vegas last year. Or was it two years ago? Anyway, the divorce was longer than his dingle, and really, it was my own fault. He only played house music. If that isn’t a red flag for a tiny penis, I don’t know what is.”

  “Seriously? That’s the only advice you’re going to give me when I just word-vomited all of that?” I complain.

  “This is very, very serious advice, Allie. One does not joke about being sexually incompatible with another human being,” she tells me solemnly, pressing one hand over her heart. “You don’t need my advice. Who cares if all of this is crazy? We get one life to live. Do you really want to spend it being miserable with nothing but regrets? It already sounds to me like you know what you want.”

  “After four days,” I state drolly.

  “Again, who cares? I decided to move to Luxembourg in an hour.”

  “And you moved back home in a day,” I remind her.

  “There are only three Starbucks in that entire country. It’s inhumane.” She scoffs. “What I’m trying to say is, it doesn’t matter if it’s four days or four months. The Christmas magic has already been sprinkled upon you, and you cannot resist it. Just skip all the drama and turmoil of will she or won’t she, and give us the happy ending already, where you make up with your mom and sisters, and decide to live here with that handsome mountain man—with what we hope is a mountain penis—forever and ever.”

  “This is not one of those movies; will you stop?” I mutter.

  “Isn’t it though? It seems ridiculous enough.”

  We both stare at each other in silence for a few minutes, when there’s a knock at the door, saving me from having to respond to Millie.

  Scrambling off the bed and across the room, I open the door, and my breath leaves me in a whoosh when I see Jason standing there, looking better than any man has a right to. He must have decided to shower after the trolley ride just like me. His face is clean-shaven, his hair is a little damp, and he smells like the kind of soap I wouldn’t mind washing my mouth out with all over his body. And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Christmas pajamas on a guy have never looked hotter. He’s also wearing a pair of cotton joggers like I am, but his are red and black plaid, and his black, long-sleeved thermal with a Christmas tree in the middle of his impressive chest is showing off a whole lot of muscles.

  If Christmas
magic has anything to do with this, someone needs to dump that shit all over me.

  “Those pajamas look good on you,” Jason says in greeting, his eyes moving up and down my body like I’m standing here wearing a sexy lace number instead of warm and comfortable festive pjs.

  “Oh good, they fit!”

  Jen’s head suddenly pops into the doorway next to Jason, and the heat I was feeling all over my body from Jason’s perusal instantly disappears.

  “He was all in a panic that he got the wrong size, and he was not having it if you didn’t have a new pair of Christmas pajamas to wear tonight.” She laughs, Jason’s cheeks growing an adorable shade of red as he clears his throat uncomfortably and runs one of his hands through his wet hair.

  “Sit on his dick already!” Millie whispers in my ear as she comes up next to me.

  “Did you ask her yet?” Jen questions Jason as I shove my elbow into Millie’s side.

  “I literally just got here.” He sighs, looking at me apologetically.

  “I hate to do this to you again,” Jen says, shoving Jason out of the way and stepping into the doorway, where I can now see she’s wearing a white fuzzy onesie with candy canes all over it. “But we have a code-red situation with the appetizers for game night. I just made a few basic things. Veggie tray, cheese and crackers, an easy taco dip, stuff like that. Well, Mom decided to pull out the blender and make a new batch of homemade eggnog.”

  “Without putting the lid on,” Jason adds, his turn to stick his handsome, worried face back in the doorway.

  “Oh no,” I mutter.

  “Oh yes. Egg and cream and nutmeg are now all over the food. And unless we have people who like a little nog in their ranch veggie dip, we have a problem, since Missy went home, and there’s no way I want to make her come back.” Jen sighs.

  “Sounds to me like they need you, Allie,” Millie says with a knowing smile. “And you’re already bouncing up and down, thinking about what you want to make for appetizers, aren’t you?”

  I quickly force my body to stop trying to jump around.