Unhappy Holidays

Amilie

I hate the holidays. Yep, I said it! All the people rushing around, throwing on fake smiles while they try to pretend that this time of year makes them feel a sudden warmth and camaraderie that they didn’t feel the other ten months out of the year. It’s as if November first marks the start of a two month fake love fest that ends promptly on December twenty sixth. Most of these bastards can’t fully hide their cruel, selfish nature completely though, something that becomes more noticeable the minute Black Friday starts.

I don’t fall into the mess of it all, I’m not willing to pretend with everyone just for the sake of creating some false memories of happy moments. I’m sure you’re wondering what the hell happened to make me so bitter, especially toward the two most coveted holidays of the year and I get it, I do. Let’s go back to the beginning, the first time I saw through the ‘magic of the season’ and realized that it was all just a fairytale with no happy ending.

I was eight years old when ‘Santa’ forgot to come to my house for the first time. I woke up and there were no gifts from the big, bearded creep. When I went upstairs to wake my parents and let them know that Santa had forgotten me, I saw my dad packing his bags while my mother stood in front of their bedroom window crying.

“Daddy? Are we going on vacation?” The look in his eyes was unlike anything I had ever seen. His usual warm, loving eyes were cold and distant.

“No, princess. Daddy has to go away for a little while.” I was eight years old…so, of course, I didn’t understand.

“Can I come?” I saw my mother turn around, but I refused to tear my gaze away from my father.

“No, not this time.” The missing presents from the mythical fat man were long forgotten by this point. Even at eight years old, I could feel the tension in the room.

“When are you coming home?” He let out a heavy sigh and forced a fake smile.

“I don’t know, baby. Just remember that daddy loves you, very much.” That was the last time I’d hear from him for a long while. I was nineteen the next time I spoke to my father and that only happened because I ran into him and his new family a few days after Thanksgiving when they were out shopping for Christmas presents. Our two minute conversation consisted of him acting like I was just some old acquaintance from his past life and after eleven years, I suppose that would be a fairly accurate assessment.

My mother never got over my father leaving us and we never celebrated Thanksgiving or Christmas in our home again, well, not as a family. My mother is quite the social elitist in our community, so she does host a Christmas party for the upper-class citizens in town. My first real holiday after that was with my boyfriend, Garett, when I was eighteen. Seeing how his family interacted so easily and comfortably with each other was like a slap in the face. I felt out of place among their tight-knit group, but by then I was a master at faking it. I threw on my fake smile and spewed the fake warm greetings just like everyone else.

Garett proposed to me on Thanksgiving the following year. We had just finished the big family dinner and were all sitting in the family room when he dropped down on one knee and pulled out the telltale black box with the traditional diamond ring nestled safely inside. I made the mistake of falling for the lie that day. I let myself fall for the storybook moment and I said yes. We weren’t even engaged for a full month before the veil was lifted.

Instead of coming home on Christmas Eve to spend a quiet night with my fiancé, I came home early and found my fiancé in bed with the neighbor’s barely legal daughter. It seems Garett prefers his women to be freshly legal and I guess my being Nineteen must have been a turn off, or at least that was the only justification I could come up with. Sure, he gave me the standard ‘it was a mistake’, ‘It sort of just happened’ and ‘She doesn’t mean anything to me’ answers, but the worst part is that he seemed to expect me to buy into them. I had already been foolish enough to buy the bullshit once and I wasn’t willing to fall for it again.

Since the day I caught that lying, cheating bastard, I’ve spent the holidays watching from the sidelines as I see the glimpses of what lies beneath the fake smiles and pleasantries. Working in retail really gives me a front row seat to it all. I see the quiet arguments over stupid things like what present to get for who, about why you have to get a gift for certain people, about how awful it is to spend time with certain relatives. I get to see the cracks in the masks, a mask I no longer have any interest in wearing.

“Excuse me, but I was wondering if you carry things in sizes bigger than an extra large.” I look at the woman in front of my counter and give her my perfectly mastered customer service smile. I try not to gawk at her tall, slender frame, her height being well above average, likely close to five foot eleven or so.

“We do! Upper level, turn left for men’s, right for women’s.” This woman’s smile seems almost genuine and it’s a little unsettling to see genuine happiness during this season.

“Thank you so much.” I watch the tall woman walk toward the escalator then allow my smile to drop once she’s out of sight. I go back to returning clothes from the dressing room to their hangers, but only fifteen minutes pass before I’m interrupted again.

“Excuse me, miss, have you seen a tall, skinny blonde come through here recently?” I look up at the ungodly tall man on the other side of the counter and my jaw nearly hits the floor. He stands at easily six foot five with a muscular build, perfectly tousled dark brown hair and dark green eyes. I quickly shake off my shock and slip that perfect ’I’m pretending I actually want to be here’ smile back on my face.

“Yes, sir. She went to the upper level roughly fifteen minutes ago.” He flashes a soul-searing smile and mutters a quick thank you before heading to the escalator.

‘Figures the Greek god would be with the tall, leggy goddess.’ I roll my eyes at my inner monologue and get back to work. When eleven thirty finally rolls around, I quickly clock out and decide to hit up the food court for lunch before heading back to my apartment to escape the holiday crowds. I quickly grab an Asian chicken salad and secure a table in the corner then dig in while scrolling through my phone.

“Oh, it’s really not that bad, you big baby!” The familiar feminine voice calls out from somewhere to my left. I try to ignore the conversation, but I swear that everyone here seems to feel the need to nearly shout at each other.

“Seriously? Why the hell do we have to do all this anyway? We’re out here buying gifts for people we only see once a year. Why do we even bother?” I smirk at the giant man’s comment, but keep my eyes on my phone.

“It’s the season for giving. Don’t be such a damn scrooge.” I roll my eyes and try to refocus on the article I’m reading when my phone rings, far too loudly for my liking, with the loudest “Stewie from Family Guy” ringtone, a sign that my best friend, Joel, has once again changed his ringtone on my phone without my knowledge. I swipe to answer the call as quickly as I can, but I can already see and feel the many curious and annoyed eyes on me.

“I really hate you.”

“Awe, come on, you don’t mean that!”

“Why do you like torturing me?”

“I just wanted to see the look on your face when it went off.”

“Well, that’s…wait…see? You can see me?! You’re here?!” Joel has been in Tampa since two weeks before Thanksgiving and while I won’t admit it to him, I’ve kind of missed the obnoxious bastard.

“I might be. Now, let me see that beautiful customer service smile that you know I love so much.” I can’t even help it, I smile, but not a customer service smile, a real one that I know has my ridiculous dimples showing.

I scan my surroundings and quickly spot him leaning against the counter to the ice cream stall that sits right behind the table of the Greek god and his amazonian goddess. I carefully slide out of my seat with the phone still pressed to my ear as I watch Joel push off the counter and weave through the crowd to get to me.

“You realize this looks like the end scene from My Best Friend’s Wedding, right?” He chuckles and nods his head as he gets closer, not stopping until he’s swept me into his arms, holding me tightly.

“I missed you, doll face.” I roll my eyes at the annoying nickname, but I can’t mask the smile on my face.

“I might have missed you too, but only a little.” He sets me down and spins me around as he inspects me.

“I take it you just got off work?” I know he already knows I did because no way in hell would I be dressed in ‘festive’ colors otherwise.

“Yup. So, how was the family vacation?” He pulls out the chair on the other side of the table and sits down while I return to my seat.

“It was good. I wish you could have gone with me.” I let a soft laugh slip out of me while shaking my head.

“Oh, no. I’m good on skipping the holiday with the family crap. It’s bad enough I have to fake it during my mom’s annual Christmas dinner two weeks before the actual holiday. I don’t need to be stuck faking it through Thanksgiving dinner with your family too, especially since I actually like your family.” His lips curl into a playful smirk, but he knows my stance on holidays and while he likes to tease me for it, he never tries pressuring me into anything. He respects my feelings, which is part of why I adore him.