Christmas Eve Love Story

Four

On the second Christmas Eve

Fa-la-la-la-la. La-la. La—la!

Annie rolled over and groaned, silencing her cell phone on her nightstand. She’d downloaded a ringtone for “Deck the Halls” to serve as her alarm. But she wouldn’t be decking any place further today. She was exhausted from Christmas Eve, and now it was Christmas! Yay! A full day off! She yawned, staring down at her phone.

Wait.

Dec 24

Winter Storm Warning

She sat bolt upright in bed and peered around her room, shifting Leo on the covers. He blinked and started purring. She patted his head and closed her eyes. She must have read the date wrong. Of course there was a winter storm warning. The storm that started yesterday was predicted to rage all day today. Annie took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

There! Better!

Ahhhhh!

She threw back the blanket, and Leo tumbled onto the floor, landing on his feet. Still looking a little stunned though. “It is not December 24,” she told him firmly. Ugh. Her phone was messing up. Merry Christmas to me. Now I’ll need a new phone.

She grumbled and got out of bed. “Great way to start—ow!”

She hopped on one foot and sat back down. She’d stepped on one of Leo’s toys, a wand handle attached to a feather, and the tip of the handle had pricked her instep. She scrunched up her lips at the cat. “Merry Christmas to you too, boy.” She’d filled his stocking with goodies last night. She should probably pick up some of his many other toys before saddling him with more.

But first! Coffee! She strolled to the kitchen window and opened the blinds, expecting a blanket of white. She’d gone to bed amid howling winds and driving snow. There had to be nearly two feet by— Noooo! Sparkly stars danced before her eyes, and she went hot all over. This can’t be. No way. The sidewalk out front was clear—and the sky cloudy and gray? What?

She dashed to the table and checked her computer.

Dec 24 7:08 AM

She sprang back against a chair, nearly knocking it over. Maybe her phone was messing up, and her computer too? Those things happened, right? Doubt clawed at her gut. Those were very coincidental technology glitches.

Okay, Annie. Think, think, think.

I’m dreaming! Yes.

Right. Makes sense.

She eyed her pour-over coffee setup, which included a ceramic cone seated on top of her favorite Christmas mug, and walked to the counter in a daze, switching on her electric kettle. She loaded the filter in the cone with a hearty scoop of espresso grounds, and the water would take less than two minutes to heat.

Annie reached into her refrigerator for the milk. Weird. The carton felt light. She peeked back in the refrigerator, but it was almost bare. Some jam, a half stick of butter, a yogurt, and a few apples. So, what? She hadn’t been to the store?

She latched on to the freezer door handle and yanked it open, searching for her frozen turkey dinner, but—nope. Nothing was in there but two paltry plastic ice cube trays, and those were cracked at the corners. Her breath quickened, and her temples throbbed. Okay, Annie, calm down. You know this isn’t happening. She was dreaming, right?

She shut the freezer door, and a lump formed in her throat. A refrigerator magnet held a photo of her laughing with Tina. Tina’s reddish hair and freckled face lit up the shot as they rode on the Coney Island Ferris wheel. Puffy white clouds hovered above them, with a bit of the beach and the ocean visible below. They’d been tighter than tight back then. That blue-sky day at Coney Island had been blustery and bright, mid-April with cherry blossoms blooming in the city.

Tina stood beside the large glass case holding the fake genie Zoltar with his golden-turbaned head and pointy dark beard. She’d just paid for Annie’s fortune.

“Go on,” she said when Annie pulled the thin paper card from the machine. “What does it say?”

Annie laughed and flipped over the rectangular yellow card proclaiming “Zoltar Speaks.” His seemingly pencil-drawn genie face sat inside a Zodiac wheel. The short paragraph on the other side warned Annie against false flatterers but promised happiness in store. She relayed the upbeat closing line, “You will scale new heights.”

Tina glanced at the Wonder Wheel and grinned. “Today’s the day.”

“Oh no!” Annie held up her hands. “Not getting me up on that thing.” She’d never liked amusement park rides, or anything that made her feel out of control. She’d endured enough jolts of the unexpected in her short life.

“Come on, Annie.” Tina coaxed with her winning smile. “Be brave!”

Annie backed away, but Tina latched on to her arm. “But, Tina,” Annie wailed, though she was giggling. “You know I’m afraid of heights.”

“The best way to fight your fears is to face them,” Tina said, dragging her along.

“I faced down a Nathan’s hot dog earlier, and that just might come back up if you don’t watch it.”

“Ha-ha,” Tina retorted, undeterred.

Annie reluctantly let Tina pull her into the short line. They’d come here on a workday to avoid the crowds. Tina had gotten a better editorial position at a different publishing house, along with a boost in pay. She’d taken a week off between jobs, and Annie had taken the day off to help her celebrate.

They settled into a car, and the attendant shut the gate in front of them with a clank. Annie’s stomach lurched, and she gripped Tina’s arm.

“It will be okay,” Tina said. She settled back in her seat and wrapped an arm around Annie’s shoulders, hugging her tightly. “Just wait until you see the view at the top.”

“I’m going to close my eyes.”

Tina laughed. “No you won’t, and I’m going to take a selfie.”

That had been one of the best days of Annie’s life.

Annie poured the steaming-hot water over the espresso grounds by making circular motions with the hand holding the kettle, desperately missing her best friend. If Tina were here, Annie knew just what she’d say: Go back to bed, Annie! Wait. Her hand froze, and she tipped up the kettle. Hadn’t she wished—? No, no, no, no, no, no!

She added milk to her coffee, and it dribbled down to its very last drop. Annie stared at the empty milk carton and shook it. Hang on. There’s no cocoa mug in the sink either. Maybe she hadn’t even made cocoa last night, since she hadn’t had the—she gulped—milk?

Don’t panic. She wiped her hot forehead with her pajama sleeve and took a quick sip of coffee, and another. Caffeine always brought clarity. I can’t wait. She took one more long drink from her mug and set it down on the counter, her hand trembling.

“I did have Christmas Eve, I did ,” she told the ceiling, rolling her eyes. She was making too much of this. Seriously. Everything was cool. Everything was fine. She’d also filled Leo’s Christmas stocking! She specifically recalled saying to Leo, “Guess who’s coming tonight?” right before she put candy canes on the— Annie dashed into the living room with Leo following behind her, and her heart slammed against her chest. His kitty stocking looked empty , and there wasn’t a single candy cane on the tree. Ooh. What’s happening?

Maybe some sort of fugue state?

Right! She’d snap out of it soon enough.

She chuckled at her silly nerves, and she had absolutely nothing to be nervous about. She’d had a difficult day yesterday, but it was over. Maybe she should have gone for coffee with Braden, after all? But this wasn’t the season for second-guessing. Christmas was the time for being merry and bright! She shut her eyes, thinking Zen thoughts. She was good. No, great! She had her job. She loved it— and wanted to keep it . She had her apartment, which was—she opened her eyes and glanced around— okay . She had Leo. Aww. He’s the sweetest . She wanted to keep him too, except he nearly tripped her on her way to the kitchen by snaking his way around her ankles. Hungry boy.

Leo meowed loudly as she opened his canned food and she wrinkled up her nose at the fishy smell, but he purred to beat the band. “You’re welcome,” she said, setting down his metal bowl. He lunged forward and— nooo —the bowl slipped from her hand, landing on the floor with a plop and a ting .

Again? Annie’s pulse skittered. Just like yesterday. Wait.

Her intercom buzzed by the front door, and she froze.

Not that too?

Annie held up a finger for Leo to wait and pressed the intercom button. “Yes?”

“Package for you!” a gruff voice said. “Lock’s sticking! Can’t get in.”

She punched the intercom button and answered, “Be right down!” She winced at the cat food mess in the kitchen. Leo was trying to nose his way under the bowl, scooting it along and smearing stinky cat food across the linoleum. As soon as I clean up here.

“Come on, big boy,” she said, lifting the cat.

Oof. So heavy.

She shut him in the bedroom and walked back to the kitchen. This was way too familiar . These things had all happened before. The weather alert on her phone. The spilled cat food. The package delivery . No. Impossible, right?

She laughed to herself and stared up at the walls’ higher sections. Also at her small kitchen bookcase, which contained the cookbooks she’d inherited from her mom, and which she’d mostly kept for sentimental reasons. She strolled casually into the living room and lifted a cushion off the sofa and then another. She didn’t know what she was looking for. Hidden cameras? Hidden by whom? She was a nobody. So nobody would prank her.

Okay, she was being absurd. But—if it was December 24—she’d have to go in to work. Hopefully not to face that day again. She returned to the kitchen and cleaned up the cat food mess before letting Leo out of the bedroom and squirming into her snow boots. She shrugged into her coat over her pj’s and traipsed down the stairs from the third floor, arriving in the foyer with its line of six brass mailboxes.

If this was the same package for the woman in Apartment 2-A, she was going to lose it. She balled her hands into fists. No, she wouldn’t. There was a logical explanation for everything, including this. She needed to focus on the positives here and stop spinning off in so many nail-biting directions. If she was dreaming, at least she was lucid dreaming, so completely aware of how outlandish this was. That also meant she’d wake up soon. She hoped.

Annie pressed open the building’s front door, battling against the winds. Icy gusts whooshed through her, chilling her to the bone. Her skin stung from the cold, and her eyes teared up. She hugged her arms around her heavy peacoat’s sleeves and stared up and down her tree-lined street. Large mounds of snow sat curbside, darkened from vehicle exhaust and grime. Some snow still clung to rooftops or stayed wedged into gutters. But, for the most part, the earlier blast of winter weather had cleared, and now New York City was expecting another big storm tonight. No, wait. That was yesterday. She was so confused.

An oblong package sat on the stoop, and she bent to retrieve it.

Whomp!

Something hard hit her from above, and icy streams raced down her neck under her coat collar. She pushed the snow dump off her head and scowled, shaking out her hair. “Seriously? Again?” She trudged back inside with the package, which was—yep—for Jane Sanchez, Apartment 2-A. This was great, really great. She was dreaming. Lucid, or not. Had to be. She pinched her wrist to check. Ouch, that hurt! Okay, not doing that again. Still. Something super weird was going on. Annie stared around the foyer, and winds wailed against the building. Deep breaths. All I have to do is drop off this package and crawl back under the covers. Then, she could wake up for real and start this day right!

She reached Apartment 2-A, and the door popped open. Ahh, this part is new . The woman looked roughly Annie’s age. She had amber eyes, wore her charcoal-colored hair in a topknot, and had on a medium-blue uniform of some kind. “Can I help you?” I definitely didn’t meet her yesterday . Could you dream-invent people? Annie didn’t think so. But maybe? That meant— nooo —that department-store Santa—and Braden—were figments of her imagination? She held out the package. “This came for you,” she said, “but the delivery guy buzzed me by mistake.”

The woman eyed Annie’s pajama bottoms tucked into her boots. “I’m sorry he woke you.”

“Oh no! I was up.” In a manner of speaking. She was still technically sleeping, probably, but no need to overshare.

The woman accepted the package and studied the return label. “ Yes. I’ve been waiting for this.”

Annie nodded, preparing to go and dive back into bed, but the woman kept talking. “My little girl,” she whispered. “Caridad. She wants this for Christmas.” She frowned. “Well, not this this. The real Amazing Agatha.”

“Amazing Agatha?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“The doll.” The woman stepped into the hall, keeping her voice down. “Ridiculously expensive because of all the accessories. She has a cell phone, computer, home office.”

“What?”

The woman nodded. “The little printer even prints!”

“Prints what?”

“Clues. Agatha is a real estate agent who solves mysteries in her spare time. Mystery of the Missing Cat. Mystery in the Mint Garden. Et cetera.”

Whoa. She’d never had anything that fancy as a kid. “So this is a fashion doll?” Annie asked, completely sucked in. Merchandising these days was over the top. Still, it kept her employed. So. She wanted to stay that way too.

The woman nodded. “Fashion plus function. Fully accessorized.”

Annie thought other dolls set high-bar expectations. “Okay.”

“I’ve told Cari real life’s not like that. No one has everything, and is beautiful, and has a detective boyfriend named Dean.”

Annie chuckled.

“But she doesn’t care. And what can I say?” The woman shrugged. “She’s eight. So, if she wants to have her dreams…” She snapped herself back to attention. “Why not?”

“Yeah,” Annie said, thinking of Braden. Her dream guy. Literally a dream. Yesterday did not happen, Annie. Okay? I knew he was too good to be true.

“Look at me! Holding you up.” She backed into her apartment. “I’m sorry.” She lifted the box. “And thanks for this. Thanks a lot.”

Annie turned around before the woman shut the door. “So. Today is?” she asked, just to be sure. It never hurt to check.

The woman smiled. “Oh yeah! Merry Christmas Eve.”

Yikes. Annie’s pulse raced.

“I’m Jane, by the way,” the woman said with a smile.

“Annie,” she whimpered before hurrying upstairs. How was this happening? How? How? How? Didn’t matter. Seemed it just was. A Christmas Eve do-over? No. It was more likely that yesterday had never happened, and that had been the dream. Sure! That’s all this was. She’d had some sort of freaky dreamlike premonition about a horrible day. But what about that package? And the spilled cat food? Leo’s empty Christmas stocking? No. She had to stop cycling this around in her brain or she’d drive herself nuts.

Maybe if she dressed and went in to work like everything was normal, it would be? She’d take a stab at it anyway. The moment she got to Lawson’s, things would be better. She hoped. If it really was Christmas Eve, maybe her job wasn’t actually in jeopardy—and the disaster with her window display hadn’t happened. She might even be able to prevent it. Yes!

Annie reached into her closet for a fresh outfit, but her snowman-patterned turtleneck, black vest, and white slacks hung neatly from their hangers. She could have sworn she’d tossed them in her hamper yesterday, but no.

She exhaled slowly.

Christmas Eve! Okay, good. I’m on it.

She dressed and gathered her work bag off the sofa, stuffing her high-heeled shoes, lunch, and purse inside the tote, but where was her name tag? She strode back into the bedroom, so sure she’d left it on her desk.

A kitty tail twitched beneath her bed. “ Leo ,” she said. “You didn’t?” She got down on her hands and knees, peering under the box spring. Leo crouched by the wall, his two front paws pressing her name tag to the floor. He goggled at her with guileless cat eyes, but she wasn’t fooled one bit. “At it again, huh?” Somehow, he’d pieced this together. Most times, when she ran out for errands, she returned quickly. When she put on that name tag, though, she was gone for at least ten hours.

She lowered herself further to the ground and dropped her right shoulder, extending her right arm under the bed and stretching out her fingers. Leo snapped up the name tag in his teeth and scooted out on the other side. “Leo! No!” He darted around the bed and shot out the door before she could get to her feet. Annie stood up, grumbling, and tugged at her rumpled vest. She smoothed out its wrinkles and traipsed into the hallway. “Oh, Leo!” she said in singsong tones. “Santa’s watching!”

He peeked his head around the corner from the kitchen, and Annie set her hands on her hips. “You know I have to go in to work. It’s how we pay our bills.” Leo backed away and watched her as she came into the kitchen, hunting around. Where, where, where?

Ah, there! Underneath the radiator. Annie knelt and grabbed her name tag, attaching it to her vest above her holly wreath pin.

Leo pranced over to her and meowed.

“All right”—she scooped him into her arms—“one last hug, but promise you’ll be good”—she held him closer—“for the whole rest of the day.”

He blinked as if to say, Of course .

She carried him into the hallway and closed the bathroom door, putting him down. “Behave.”

Twenty minutes later, she dashed down the concrete steps to the subway in her coat and snow boots. She had to catch that train. Had, had, had to. No! It was loading. She raced for the platform as people squished themselves inside, drawing in their bags and elbows. The train’s doors closed. Argh. She wasn’t going to make it. Again? This day was feeling very déjà vu–like in the worst possible way. But she was just having a moment. It would pass.

Please let it pass.

Please, please, please.

Annie sat down on a bench on the near-empty platform. Another train would be along in ten minutes if she was lucky. She checked her watch. Today was a busy day. Christmas Eve always was. If it really was Christmas Eve. Maybe she should ask someone else to be sure? The woman in her building could have been mistaken. A long shot, but still.

“Excuse me?” she asked a teenager walking past her. He pulled one of his earbuds from his ear. “Can you tell me what day it is?”

He squinted at her like she’d lost it. “Uh, Tuesday?”

“No, I mean, the date.”

The guy backed away. “December 24.”

A man sat down on the bench beside her and shook out his newspaper. The same date was stamped on the front page of the paper. “Okay,” she told the teen, who seemed to want to put space between them. “Thank you.” Ooh, her head hurt.

This was so bizarre, she wished she could share it with someone. Wouldn’t Tina get a laugh out of this? Me freakishly dreaming I’d already had the day which I obviously haven’t. Tina was so clearheaded, she’d have things analyzed in a flash.

She took out her phone and opened an app. She could text Tina, yeah. But what would she say? Sorry I ghosted you? You were right about Roy, and I was wrong?

Annie’s spirit ached as she recalled their last conversation.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you.” Tina sat at the bar beside Annie at their favorite after-work drinks spot. They both drank white wine. “I just thought you should know.” Tina had said she’d seen Roy at a lunch place looking cozy with another woman, but Annie couldn’t believe it. She and Roy spent nearly all their free time together. There was no way he could be involved with someone else.

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not Roy.”

Tina set down her wineglass. “Not the Roy you think you know, maybe.” She leaned closer. “Listen, I know this is hard, but I’ve been worried about you for a while. There’ve been other things too.”

“Things?” Annie asked, taken aback. “What things?”

Tina lowered her voice. “The way he talks to you sometimes. Like he’s in charge of your every little decision. It’s not—right.”

Annie experienced a niggle of concern, but she dismissed it. Sure, Roy was a little opinionated, but he had his good points, and he’d made her feel so good in the beginning. That would come back, it had to. Of course it would. They were just going through a rough patch.

Annie picked up her drink. “Roy just knows what he likes, that’s all.”

“What he should like,” Tina said, “is the person you already are, not someone he’s trying to turn you into—just to please him.”

That sliced into her heart like a knife. So out of left field. “I can’t believe you said that, Tina. Roy is the man I love, and he loves me.” Hurt bubbled up inside her along with a sense of betrayal, but not at Roy—at Tina.

“I love you too”—Tina laid a hand on her arm—“which is why I’m saying, maybe you’d be better off without him.” Tina stared at the mirror in front them where shelves held liquor bottles. “I mean, just look at us, Annie.” She turned to face her. “We used to be so close, but now we barely see each other anymore.”

“That’s because you have Lloyd,” Annie said defensively.

“No.” Tina frowned. “It’s because you have Roy.”

She’d thought about texting Tina hundreds of times, but the more the weeks flew by, the harder it became to bridge that divide.

A new train’s lights appeared in the tunnel, and Annie shot to her feet.

She was not missing this one.