The Christmas Pic

31. Ava

CHAPTER 31

AVA

We arrive at the fairground gates before dawn, a light dusting of snow on the ground. Jo pulls the truck into our assigned spot and I help her set up. Emma and Max show up with rainbow Christmas donuts from another stand as we wait for the gates to officially open. The event seems alarmingly low-key, but Jo keeps promising me, “You’ll see, you’ll see.”

Max sets up tripods, preparing to document the day’s success. But so far… there’s nothing to capture.

At 8:59 a.m., I glance at my watch, anticipating the crowd that's supposedly on its way. I try to tamp down the gnawing anxiety that all we’ve worked for currently hangs in the balance. If today doesn’t go well, my reputation will be shot and I quite literally will never be able to show my face at Gramsta HQ again. No pressure.

Nine a.m. rolls around and it’s still quiet.

“I thought you said there was an early rush?”

“They may be running late,” Jo replies.

I tap my toe, nervous that my big push to get us in here was for naught. Jo had to flirt with Wynnie for nothing, and I had to witness it. And all the renovations… Before I can go deeper into my spiral, Max pulls me out .

“Can you hear that?”

At first, I hear nothing. But the more I strain, I begin to hear singing.

Christmas carols seep into the air, featuring harmonies of at least ten variations. I turn to Max, my fellow carol hater, stunned. I’ve never heard anything so enchanting.

Through the gates swarms the happiest, gayest, most peaceful mob I’ve ever seen. Hundreds of people walk in together from the main highway, decked out in holiday gear… all holding hands.

Jo must clock my bewilderment because she leans over to my ear as the singing grows. “Welcome to the Chosen Family Festival, Ava.” I’m unsure which part gives me more chills.

She takes my hand and smiles. I can’t help but smile back.

Several hours later, the party that is the Chosen Family Fest has only amplified. We’ve ushered hundreds of groups to get their photo taken on the truck by Jo and given out an even greater amount of business cards. My worry that we wouldn’t have enough photos to populate the banner seems laughable now. Compliments abound on the new truck interior, from first-timers to old school Harmony Springsers who witnessed the truck when it first began.

“This is the best idea ever!” shouts a kid in glittery antlers.

“Roger would’ve loved this!” an older woman with rainbow Christmas tree hair exclaims.

“He’d be so proud of you, Jo,” says a man who Jo doesn’t even know.

She casts me fleeting glances between shots–an acknowledgement of our hard work paying off .

The sun fades past the hills and the crowds grow smaller and smaller.

“Is that it?” I ask Emma, ready to pack up from out of the cold.

“Is that it?! ” she says, bemused. “Did you even do your research, Ava?”

I laugh, because actually, I didn’t. For one of the first times I can remember, I didn’t do research into what was next. I’ve been avoiding thoughts of the looming end for Jo and me, and ironically, this evasion has eased my grip on control, not entirely for the worse.

“Caught me,” I tell Emma. She’s tickled.

“Jo, we’ll close up the truck if you want to take Ava.”

“Take Ava where?” I ask.

“You’ll see,” Jo says, grabbing my hand and leading me off the truck.

Jo pulls me across the fairgrounds as I tighten my coat around myself.

“Don’t worry, you won’t be cold soon.”

She picks up the pace to a run as we make our way up an enormous hillside, passing others as we go.

I pant and she cheers me on from ahead, dodging stragglers. “Come on! This hill’s got nothing on Ava Garcia-Greene!”

“I’m fit but not that– ”

I halt mid-sentence, due to the unbelievable view that appears in front of me. The hill was higher up than I realized, and all of Harmony Springs is laid out below us, twinkling in the dusk.

“Wow,” I say.

“Just you wait.”

I take a moment to soak it all in. Hundreds of people from all different walks of life gather, embracing each other and exchanging gifts.

“Small town life, huh?” I say to Jo .

“Actually, most of these people don’t even know each other,” she says. “They come from all over the country, the world even, to share in our little found family.”

I’m touched by the outpouring of love from total strangers. I’ve never thought much about my definition of family, but I would have never included this.

It’s beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as the firework that lights up the sky in front of me. Max and Emma make their way up behind us, in awe.

“Incredible,” Max says as another group of fizzy fireworks goes off.

“It really is.” I can’t believe where I am. And how little time I have left here. “Mission accomplished, I guess?”

I remember how desperately I wanted to get out of here a week ago, and now I can’t even remember why. The Maldives are gorgeous, but they’ve got nothing on her.

Jo looks back at me, and like she’s read my mind says, “Would you join my family for Christmas Eve tomorrow?”

“I’ve got to pack. To… leave.” Saying the word stings.

“Max, you’ll pack for Ava, right?”

“I always pack for Ava.”

I can’t help cracking a smile.

“I would love to join your family for Christmas Eve.”

As much as I want to go home with Jo after the festival, I don’t let myself. I want her so much it’s scary. Alarm bells are going off in my head like some big gay heartbreak warning. WEE-WOO! You leave soon! WEE-WOO! You can’t get any deeper! WEE-WOO! Your heart will perish!

Yet as I doze off in my hotel room, I can’t help but imagine what Christmas Eve with Jo and her family will be like, full of delicious food and storytelling, between little kisses from her sweet lips…

Then like any girl with a crush, my mind wanders further. I imagine a life where I stay in Harmony Springs with Jo and Emma and Max and the truck. We live in a cabin as lovely as Jo’s gingerbread house–with windows, of course–and we have dogs and cats and chickens and cows, exactly like she wanted. I even imagine kids for a second. I get to wake up to Jo every day and fall asleep in her arms every night.

But it’s all a dream, because despite having infinite access to whatever I can imagine, I can’t stay here. This isn’t my life. This isn’t my home. And Jo isn’t mine either.