12 Deaths of Christmas

by Paul Sating

  “I know,” Mom said, just as false as I’d been with her. I imagined she was distracted by visions of what her life was like before the accident and subsequent drugs filled her husband’s head with hallucinations. “It’s starting to snow,” Mom broke my thoughts, gesturing with a butter knife toward the windows. “The first snow. The white night is coming. You need to get going, Kai. No two ways about it. Go. Get Max. It’ll be time to feed your father soon. I want you home.”

  She was right; flakes danced in swirls outside the windows.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll head into town,” I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

  The side of her mouth curled up. Did my coming out here make her happy? I hoped so; she had so little happiness in her life these past few years. “Good. Get going,” she counseled, her tone lighter now as she gave me a tender shove. “I don’t want you and Max caught out in it. You’re bad enough of a driver and he’s never been up here. Don’t make him do it on his own. You know how it can be.”

  I did. The road going into town was a tight two-lane with no shoulder. All the roads around Ember Lake were slivers cutting through the forest. Even on summer days, it was perilous. Winter made it worse. Driving them in the snow, for someone who’d never driven up here? I didn’t want to do that to Max.

  Even if we’d been fighting.

  Even if he was being a complete asshole.

  “Don’t dawdle,” Mom smiled, draining the sink. “We’ve got nowhere to go until the Montmore’s party tomorrow. But I want you back soon. Then we can all have a nice, relaxing weekend. You two have been under a lot of pressure lately.”

  We had.

  I kissed her cheek one last time and headed down the short hall toward the room I was going to share with Max. If he ever got here. Snagging my North Face jacket, I made a quick exit and got the car warming. Refusing to sit and wait for it, I headed back inside to let Mom know I was leaving.

  She sat next to Dad in front of the windows. Their gray-haired heads peaked over the chairs. Mom’s knitting sat in her lap and Dad was asleep. He slept a lot these days. Mom put a finger to her lips, shushing me. I noticed her other hand was on his. Knitting had given way to a connection between the lifelong partners.

  My chest swelled. After all these years they still had intimacy. She’d lost so much with him, time and memories, but she hadn’t lost that at least.

  I winked at her and headed out. Even if the car was cold, I’d start toward town and give them some quiet. Half of me ached that they didn’t have many other people in their lives. But I was relieved to be away. I loved my father, even though he never came to peace with who I was. Maybe that’s why seeing him like this bothered me so much. It was a reminder that I would never get his acceptance.

  I drew a breath. The past couldn’t be changed, and I had to take care of me now. That meant keeping my remorse over what happened to him balanced with healthy things.

  Things like having Max near me.

  The night sucked the warm glow from the cabin windows into the growing darkness as I drove toward town.

  Toward Max.

  A half hour passed before I turned onto Main Street, the main thoroughfare cluttered with every business required to satisfy the immediate needs of a mountain community. On the left, beyond the shops, was the Inlet. The right, a few houses scattered across the uneven hillside, reaching away from the road.

  In Ember Lake, all life happened on Main Street.

  Max and I had agreed to meet at Smithy’s, the local coffee and ice cream bar. A single car parked in front of the building betrayed Max. He was late again.

  I pulled in and headed inside for coffee and an overdue conversation. In all honesty, I was sort of glad Max wasn’t here yet; it would give me time to catch up with a lifelong friend.

  Smithy made the best damn coffee in Ember Lake; it didn’t matter that Smithy’s was the only place in Ember Lake that served coffee except for the gas station. Plus, the gas station was technically outside the village limits.

  “Hey, Kai,” Smithy greeted me with a perpetual warm smile. “Chocolate Mocha?” Smithy knew my drink even after almost two years since the last time I saw him. Some people had bartenders who knew everything about them. I had Smithy and his knowledge of my inclination toward sweeter blends. This wasn’t about fitting gay stereotypes; this was about enjoying the beautiful experience of a perfectly roasted mocha.

  “Yes, sir,” I beamed back, giving him a quick hug over top the counter. He had to stretch; his stomach had grown since I’d last seen him.

  Smithy was in his 50s and had owned the shop as long as I could remember. He was also the sole employee of the shop. Smithy never got away. That’s why everyone considered him an icon in town. The man was a rock. As I hugged him, his bulbous shoulders were solid, his grip, crushing. Smithy still shaved his head. I don’t think he ever had hair. Most amazing of all about Smithy, for a man who ran a coffee and ice cream shop, was the fact that he had the most gorgeous set of teeth I’d ever seen on anyone. They were straight, square, and bone white. He was handsome for an older man. If I was into men his age, he’d be a target.

  I stood at the counter while he made the drink. I was the only customer in the place except for a woman who sat in the corner, typing away on a laptop. She didn’t look like the type of hardened person who lived in a place like this. It takes a certain level of fortitude to be a mountain person and she wasn’t carved to fit that mold. A professional blogger? Her midnight hair was straight and fell well past her shoulders. She was slim and fit. Her skin was dark. Whoever she was, she definitely wasn’t someone I expected to see in Ember Lake.

  Smithy steamed my coffee, stirring it before moving to the back bar and adding his custom cream design, which was nothing more than the shop’s iconic logo. He did it all within seconds, perfect and clean. Every single time. “Thanks,” I said as I took my mug. “How’s business been?”

  Smithy smiled. He always smiled. “Decent enough,” he answered. Waving at the empty room, he continued, “Little slow right now, but it’s offseason and getting close to the evening. You know folks aren’t going to be out past dark. Especially with the first snow supposedly rolling in.”

  “Yeah, it’s rolling in behind me,” I commented. “That’s why I came into town today. My boyfriend is coming up and I’m going to meet up with him. Wasn’t planning on it, but Mom wanted me back at the cabin before the storm hit.”

  Smithy nodded, his smile tightening. Something was wrong. “Was it snowing already up at their place?”

  “Yeah.”

  Now the smile slipped completely.

  “You need to head on back to your cabin, son.” He nodded at the woman, “I’m about to tell her to start packing up too. You and I? We can catch up after the white night.”

  This wasn’t like Smithy at all. Throughout my teens when I bought coffee and ice cream—I was a boy who could eat anything—I’d routinely stay past closing time. He never minded. But people changed and Smithy wasn’t getting younger. Maybe he was just tired?

  “I swear your sign said you closed at 6?” I asked.

  Smithy stepped back from the bar, running a hand over that slick dome of a skull. “Yeah, I need to get that changed. Just don’t have time to get down to Olympia to get it done. Figure it’s easier to tell people.”

  I was confused but tried to not let it show. I didn’t want to interrupt the woman from whatever she was working on. This was Smithy’s store; he could do whatever he wanted, even if it meant closing early and losing out on business. It’s not like my four-dollar cup of coffee was going to make a difference in his ability to feed himself tomorrow. The only issue was Max.

  “How much longer are you going to stay open?” I asked. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend. We agreed to meet here.” The woman on the laptop stopped typing; I felt her eyes on me even without having to look at her.

  Smithy almost looked sad, his smile turning into a slight frown. “Soon, son. I’m sorry, but it’s the f
irst snow.”

  “First snow?” I watched him. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

  Smithy paused and then nodded toward the front windows of the store, out where my car was parked next to this woman’s. Beyond that, the street was quiet. No one was walking. No vehicles passed by. I hadn’t noticed it on my way in because I was focused on Max and my family. But the way Smithy was acting made me feel uneasy. His need to close early had me imagining all sorts of apocalyptic scenarios.

  But this wasn’t the apocalypse; this was a mountain town with mountain people who worked hard and spent most of their time at home with their families. I figured since this was Christmas week that’s exactly what everyone in Ember Lake was doing.

  “I’m not sure what you’re —” I started as I turned back toward Smithy, only to notice he was no longer behind the bar but making his way around it, toward the front window. The black haired woman now watched him unashamedly. He stood in front of the window, arms crossed, checking as much of the sky as his shop’s awning allowed.

  “First snow. The white night is coming,” Smithy said. It was a dark comment, full of foreboding.

  Or maybe misery over the coming months of cold, I thought. Ember Lake’s warmer weather meant a fatter bank account. The cold months had to be tight for his wallet.

  “Can I stay here until Max shows up?” I asked.

  Smithy didn’t turn around. Erect, he kept standing there, arms crossed. Whatever had his attention, it had it completely. I began to think he was going to ignore the question. This wasn’t the Smithy I used to know. If I left, I could drive around town finding a cell signal. It was an option, but one that would deprive me of catching up with a friend I hadn’t seen in too long.

  Smithy shook his head back and forth, not saying a word. I couldn’t tell if he was shaking his head in answer to me or at this strange revulsion over some snow.

  Smithy then shocked me. Without looking at either of us, he told the woman, “I’m going to need you to pack up your things. Going to close up shop.”

  The woman scowled but began gathering her loose notes spread across the small table.

  I moved closer, leaning in to whisper, “What’s going on, Smithy? Is everything okay?”

  He squared up to me. When I looked into his eyes I saw an abyss. “First snow is comin’ and you best be getting home. Get inside. Stay inside. It’s going to be a dangerous one. No one needs to be out when the white night comes. Even you.”

  “Smithy, I need to wait for Max. I get it if I can’t stay here, I’ll head over to the gas station. I’m not going home. But I’m more worried about you. Are you okay?”

  One sharp shake of his head. “Don’t head to the gas station, don’t head anywhere. Get yourself home, son. And ma’am,” he turned and acknowledged the woman, “same goes for you. Wherever you’re going, get there. And get there soon. I failed both of you.” He returned his gaze to me. “Failed both of you, I did. Now.”

  “Smithy,” I laughed, “what are you talking about? You didn’t fail us. And, in case you forgot, I’ve been up here in the winter before, you know that. Remember how Dad used to make me drive in the snow to get used to it? I went off the road into your front yard. Tore up your bushes. Remember? A little snow isn’t going to be a problem for me.”

  Smithy stared at me. The woman was done packing her things up and turned sideways to get by me, out the door. I watched her go. She fumbled with her car fob, dropped it, and disappeared behind her car as she bent to retrieve it.

  I turned to Smithy. “See what you did? You made a nervous wreck out of her. She’s probably going to drive like hell out of town, back to wherever she came from. She gets in an accident, that’s on you.”

  Smithy nodded. “Better an accident away from Ember Lake than sticking around here. You need to get going, son.” He turned away and mumbled. “Before the evil wakes.”

  I shook my head, unsure if I’d heard him correctly. “I’ll go, but I would rather you tell me you had some hot date lined up. No need to be acting all weird.”

  Smithy moved behind the counter powering down the signs, lights, and equipment. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew what was coming.”

  “What? What’s coming?”

  Still distracted by closing down the store and collecting his cash drawer and receipts, Smithy shook his head, not making eye contact. “The white night son. Things—things happen in Ember Lake. Have been for the last couple years. No one knows how or why, but that doesn’t change this or that.” He fumbled the cash bag, dropping it. Disappearing below the counter to retrieve it, he slapped the bag on the counter in frustration when he reappeared. His stare made me fidget. “There’s an ancient evil coming, Kai. Always does on the first snow. You need to get somewhere safe, son. And this coffee shop isn’t it. Go.”

  I zipped up my jacket. “Okay,” I said, not trying to push him. Smithy looked frayed. “I’m going. I don’t imagine you’re going to be open tomorrow, with it being Christmas. So have yourself a good one, Smithy. I’ll see you again before I head out of town.”

  Smithy stopped. “I mean it, Kai,” his stern voice removed all ambiguity. “Call that boyfriend of yours and tell him to turn around and head back to Olympia or wherever he’s from. And if he insists on making it out here, you get in that car of yours and go right back down the mountain, stopping him on your way if you have to.”

  I would have laughed but this wasn’t a joke. Not to Smithy. I didn’t think it was funny either. It was time to leave.

  A brutal chill in the air struck me as soon as I pulled open the door. The temperature had dropped since I left my parent’s cabin. The sharp smell of snow, stinging and chilling, hung in the dying day. It seared into my nostrils. The storm would be here soon.

  “The first flakes,” Smithy gasped, suddenly at my shoulder. I could smell the fear on him.

  Then he shoved me into the storm. I turned to see Smithy shivering, his eyes wide. “Call your boyfriend and get back to that cabin! Get back before it comes,” he shouted through the door.

  I stood outside watching him run behind the counter, tuck the cash bag under his arm, and dash into the back of the store. “Crazy,” I shook my head before stealing a second to smell the air. There’s nothing as satisfying as the brisk smell of winter air that hinted at the arrival of snow.

  I was in the middle of setting my phone in the carriage suctioned to the front window when Smithy’s pickup truck surged up the incline of the driveway. Without yielding, he pulled into the road. These weren’t the actions of a reasonable man. It was snow. Nothing more. He was a damn native.

  But he wasn’t reasonable, was he?

  Smithy’s behaviors made me think of Max. He wasn’t a native. His world was one of cultivated roadways and mass transit, not narrow mountain roads and black ice. Throw in the oppressive darkness of the night sky without city light illumination, compound it with the driving snow, and it would be nearly impossible for Max to make his way into town. Max wasn’t made that way. He’d never make it to the cabin, not without us having a huge fight when he did arrive. I should have told him I would see him after Christmas, but I missed him as soon as I pulled away from our apartment and wanted to be together for the holiday.

  I pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the grocery store. There were a few cars parked there. People doing last-minute grocery runs for their Christmas meals. I could wait him out in here.

  But the doors didn’t open when I stepped on the mat. I moved off it and tried again. They remained closed.

  “Shit.” I peered inside. Sparse security lights illuminated strategic parts of the store. Closed, even though the sign said it would be open for another five hours. Like Smithy’s. Now I was going to have to figure out where to meet Max. With my options narrowing, I might have to drive down the mountain to catch him on his way up. But doing that would keep me out in the weather. At least I could squeeze in another episode of my favorite thriller podcast, Subject: Found.

>   Two voices sounded from around the corner of the building. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but nothing about the evening was normal.

  Faced with a slew of unattractive options, I decided I was going to see what I could find out from whoever owned those voices.

  Two employees, a woman and a man in their early 20s, strode out a side door. They stood close together. The female was busy locking up while her male counterpart hung close, watching her while taking quick glances around the parking lot. My appearance startled him.

  “Jesus!” he exclaimed. His tone frightened the woman. She screamed, spinning, her eyes wide. The man held a hand across his chest. “Fuck man, you scared the shit out of me.”

  I held my hands up in apology. “I’m sorry about that. Are … are you closed?”

  The two glanced at each other before she answered, “Yeah. What … what are you doing out?”

  Their expressions made it clear this wasn’t something to laugh off, even if her question sounded ridiculous. What the hell was going on with everyone? “I’m meeting someone and was hoping I could wait for them here.”

  The man looked at me like I was standing in the cold, naked as the day I was born. “We’re closed, dude. Remember? The first snow?” He made the last comment sound like it should explain everything.

  “Yeah, I get that,” I answered. This was probably the last chance I was going to get tonight to get any help with waiting for Max. It wouldn’t hurt to at least ask. “Any chance you’d let me do some shopping?”

  “Are you crazy?” the woman asked. “You need to get the hell out of here.”

  “Why?”

  The man’s lips moved wordlessly as if I’d stunned him. Turning to the woman, he said, “Janie, we need to go.”

  “I know.” Janie finished locking up.

  The window of opportunity was closed.