Hazel...This thing between us,” I started slowly, trying to gather the best words. I knew everything I was about to say would come out wrong, but she needed a push to do what she had to do. “It’s not really...I’m not so sure I…”
Her brow furrowed. “You’re not so sure you...what? What are you trying to say, Chris? Just spit it out. You know I hate it when people beat around the bush, and people have done quite enough of that with me today already.”
“I’m saying there’s nothing between us that should prevent you from publishing the piece your editors want you to put out,” I said more firmly. “You set out to make me love Christmas, and...you failed. I feel nothing for this stupid holiday. If anything, it just makes people act crazy from having too high of expectations.”
“What?” she winced. “You don’t mean that. It was starting to grow on you. I know it was. And you’ve...You’ve been different. Please don’t just say this so I’ll publish the article. I don’t agree with what I wrote. You’re not just some bitter guy trying to profit and capitalize on Christmas. I know you’re not. And as far as we’re concerned...I know you were feeling something for me too.”
I stood and walked over to the windows overlooking the dark store, putting some distance between us. “You know, I think love is a lot like Christmas. People get high on the feeling for a moment, but eventually it goes away. The thrill fades. The decorations and shiny lights get packed away. That kind of stuff can’t last forever. And then everyone goes back to their usual grumpy selves.”
“But it doesn’t!” she protested. “It just changes! We can feel that same kind of magic all year long if we’d let ourselves, and love is no different. It ebbs and flows, but that doesn’t mean it just vanishes.”
I was finding it harder to look at her, but she came over and planted herself right in front of me. “Look at me, Chris. You can’t tell me that you weren’t starting to feel things for me, and you sure as hell can’t tell me that whatever you were feeling is already starting to fade away. If you’re just trying to piss me off so I’ll put that stupid article out there, you’re wasting your breath. I already decided…”
“This isn’t about your ridiculous blog, Hazel,” I snapped. “You’re always trying to paint such a perfect picture of everything, but none of it’s real! I’ve watched you orchestrate all of those flawless moments on your blog, but they don’t happen naturally. None of this does. It’s all forced and wrapped up in a bow and thrown in people’s faces to make them feel inadequate. But then again, maybe the sad part is...that you actually live in enough of a bubble to really believe it all. I guess you would with the kind of family you have.”
Her eyes glossed over with tears as she stared at me in disbelief. “So what if I do live in a bubble!? So what if I want everything to be perfect!? The world is an ugly place. People do terrible things to each other every day. I don’t see anything wrong with trying to take joy in the little things, the little moments. Times during the year when we all stop to be a little kinder to each other. But I guess that part is lost on you. Well, you don’t have to worry. My picture perfect family and my precious little bubble has officially been popped. I don’t even have that this year, so I hope that makes you happy.”
“It could do you some good to remember it can’t all be perfect all the time. Not even during your beloved Christmas,” I scowled.
“Maybe I was right about you all along,” she seethed. “They say first impressions are everything, and apparently mine was more accurate than I thought. For that matter, maybe I was wrong about Christmas too. I guess I was wrong about all of it.”
She turned for the door, but stopped. She was sobbing and her voice cracked, “Congratulations, Chris. Not only did I fail at teaching you to love Christmas. You actually went so far as to ruin it entirely for me. Good job.”
Her heels clacked through the lobby and onto the elevator. I didn’t exhale until I heard the ding of the sliding doors and knew she was gone. I closed my eyes and hated myself for