She shushed him with the wave of her hand. “That is such a ridiculous position. I can’t believe you’re actually saying this. No,” she said, shaking her head vigorously. “What I can’t believe you actually bought this. Christmas music is indeed the least fiscally responsible purchase anyone can make. First of all, this music is listened to maybe – and I’m being generous here – two weeks out of the year. After that, it’s packed away for twelve months, intentioned for use the following year. But, I maintain that the most insidious part of Christmas music is the fact that by next year, the poor, deluded, Christmas-music-purchaser will probably look back on their music tastes as misguided or possibly even downright laughable. Best case scenario: the cd will be tossed aside forever, never to be used again. It’s only purpose will be to take up space in red-and-green plastic stackable boxes. It’s sad, really. A tragedy. A Christmas cd tragedy,” she finished, as melodramatically as possible.
“A tragedy? Come on, Jen. I don’t agree at all. Plus, who says it even has to be about money? It’s fifteen dollars – ten if it’s a really old collection – and it is a dependable way to create that all- important holiday ambience.” Jack set his latest purchase on the coffee table in front of Jen. “I dare you not to open these. They are necessary. You cannot honestly expect us to decorate the tree without music. I mean, Jen!, it’s like going to the movies and not buying Twizzlers. You know the Twizzlers are overpriced and you know that you’re not even hungry. But if you enter those theatre doors without red sugary-rubbery strips of candy, you might as well forget enjoying the movie.”
She gave in quickly, conceding that she was bantering solely for the sake of bantering. She smiled. “Okay. I admit it. Christmas music is the best invention since the toaster.”
Jack looked at her, happy to be agreed with.
She glared at him, expectant. “What are you waiting for? Get off your ass and put the cd in the stereo. We’ve got to get these decorations up before Grams gets back tomorrow.”
“Have you heard from her today?”
“No. Aunt Virginia was supposedly much improved yesterday. But who knows? I doubt Grams will want to spend Christmas away from Capeside. If she doesn’t reappear soon, I’ll be surprised.”
Jack pulled the box of decorations between them on the sofa, yanking out tinsel and lights, strewing them this way and that. As he untangled trimmings, he remembered Christmases with his family. “My mom used to put the tree up the day after Halloween,” he said, laughing, “and she wouldn’t take it down until Valentines Day.” Thinking of his mother, he smiled broadly. “Andie would make these horrible, overcooked, cardboard-tasting cookies the night before Christmas and set them out. My dad and Tim, when they crept into the living room to put out the gifts for Andie and me, would eat every damn one of them and leave a trail of crumbs from the chimney. The whole nine yards, you know. God, those cookies were awful. One year – I think I was nine or ten at the time – I saw them setting out the gifts. I walked toward my father. He took me on his lap and handed me a cookie to help him eat. Sitting there next to the decorations and presents, my father told me that there was no Santa – that he was the only Santa I would ever get. He warned me not to tell Andie. I helped him put together a Barbie car and he sent me off to bed.”
Jen nodded, numb to Jack’s stories. It wasn’t that she doubted the truth of them, or even that she didn’t think they were horrible. It was more that she was so accustomed to his voice, so accustomed to his revelations, so accustomed to his reflections, that everything he said was filed neatly away in her mind, waiting to be dissected, learned, and loved.
She rubbed the side of her cocoa cup, reflecting on her own Christmas memories. “I guess what I loved most about Christmas as a child was the – and you’re going to laugh at this – the church services. My mother would send my father out for food at around seven on Christmas Eve. She would lead me into her room, where we would spend hours putting on our brand new dresses. When my father returned, we would take a picture to use on our Christmas card the following year and then sit cross-legged around the tree, eating take-out. We left for church at half-past- ten. We went to my mother’s Baptist communion at eleven and then headed across town to my father’s Catholic mass. They would let me stay up late that one night of the year. When we got home, my father and mother would hand me a glass of wine and expect me to sit at the table with them, talking until the early hours of the morning. The nanny wouldn’t work on Christmas Eve, so they shared their time with me. You can’t believe how I looked forward to that day. All year, I looked forward to that. The next morning, I opened all my gifts. At noon, the nanny returned from Christmas with her own family. My parents packed for their yearly trip to the Bahamas, always leaving by four.”
Jack nodded silently. “So at this point, suggesting that we order take-out might be a bad idea?”
She burst out laughing. “Nah. I think my fragile emotions can handle it.”
“Okay. I’ll get the phone book.”
“I’ll start stringing the lights.”
Pacey shook the one gift with his name on it, knowing before he even picked it up that it was socks. Six, white, double-thickness, tube socks. “To: Pacey. From: Mom, Dad, Doug, Angela, Christina, and Julie.” Merry Fucking Christmas to me, he thought to himself.
He debated his decision to stay home while the rest of the family took a cruise. He could be walking the beach with some delicious young native woman, sipping Pina Coladas and watching the sun come up . . . Get real, dumbass, he chided himself. The chances of that fantasy coming true were about as likely as the chance that his parents would get along for the entire nine days. Nodding his head, he was thankful he’d let his family give the extra ticket to Mitch Leery, who needed to get some slap-and-tickle even more than Pacey himself did.
Pacey unplugged the Christmas tree lights, letting the room go dark around him. “Jesus Christ, I’ve got to get out of here,” he said out loud.
Jack stood in line at Taste of China, impatient and freezing cold. He heard sounds of cooking in the kitchen beyond him, but none of that cooking appeared in front of him in the form of two generous portions of kung pow chicken. He could have gotten a three course meal in the time he’d been standing here, he realized with some irritation.
The door dinged behind him and he turned, face-to-face with Pacey.
“Hey, man,” Pacey greeted him, shaking his hand. “How’s it going? Enjoying time away from the hell on earth commonly referred to as Capeside High School?”
“Most definitely. And you?”
“You know it.”
Moments passed.
“What are you doing here? I assumed Grams would have been cooking for weeks in preparations for Christmas Eve dinner. I thought only poor, orphan children like me had to resort to Taste of China for their Christmas repast.”
“Ha. I wish Grams was cooking. She could have probably defrosted, baked, and served about fifteen turkeys in the time it’s taking them to fry some noodles in a pan. But no – Grams is in New York taking care of her sister. She had a sudden stroke or something. Things are pretty dire, I hear from Jen who hears from Grams’ cousin who hears from Grams who hears from the doctors.”
“That’s awful.”
“Yeah, I guess. Jen’s never met her great-Aunt, but I think Grams is pretty shaken up about it. She’s supposed to be home tomorrow, but the jury’s still out on that one. What’s up with you, by the way? Why aren’t you enjoying the famous Witter Family noodle salad on this most joyous of holiday occasions?”
“I don’t know about the rest of the Witter family, but I rarely enjoy the noodle salad. Anyway, they’re probably stuffing themselves about now. I hear the food on cruise ships is quite plentiful.”
“They’re on vacation?”
“Yeah. Having Christmas in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. Quite a scary thought.”
Jack laughed. “Sounds like it . . . So what are you doing for the night?”
“Opening my tube socks, drinking about a quart of vodka, and heading straight to bed.”
Jack shrugged. “Well, I don’t know if this is any better offer than vodka and tube socks, but you’re welcome to spend the evening with Jen and me. We could use the company. I mean, for the past hour we haven’t gotten a single bit of the decorating done that Grams requested. Even worse, we’re sharing sad stories of Christmas Past. Maybe you pull us out of our respective dumps.”
Pacey was touched by the sentiment, but he was worried that he would be intruding, not to mention the fact that there would be an awkwardness when he and Jen were in one room together. “I think the only thing I’d be able to do is add to your growing collection of family horror stories. Plus, I don’t know . . . is it like a special ‘Jack and Jen night’? I don’t want to get in the middle of anything.”
Jack waved it off. “Nah. It’s nothing special. Just a couple of crazy kids with some tinsel and about fourteen new Christmas cds. Sound like anything you’d be interested in?” Jack used Jen’s phrasing and voice inflections to further illustrate that the invitation was from both he and Jen.
“Christmas music? Are you kidding? I live for that stuff!”
“Thank you!” Jack said, vindicated.
Pacey slapped him on the back and led him out of Taste of China. They were halfway to their cars when Jack realized he hadn’t gotten the food.
“Did you pay for it?” Pacey asked, when Jack told him as much.
“No, not yet.”
“Then forget about it. I can whip up some noodle salad once we get to your house.”
Jack nodded and laughed as they climbed into their cars with Jack leading the way back to Grams’ house.
“Honey, I’m home! And I brought in a stray! Can we keep him?” Jack yelled as he opened the front door, shoving Pacey in first.
As Jack walked in behind his friend, he scanned the room and his eyes rested on the kitchen table, where Ethan sat with Jen, who was drinking her fourth cup of coffee.
Jack stepped back toward the door – frightened, thrilled, and shocked. He composed himself before Ethan looked up.
Jen caught Jack’s gaze, smiling widely. “It would seem that I caught a stray, too.”
Pacey looked at the three other people in the room, thoroughly confused.