Beckett
December 25th
Darlene buzzed the door the next morning. I stood at the kitchen counter, chugging coffee, barely functional on two hours of sleep. Moving like a sloth, I set my cup down to let her in but apparently she got sick of waiting and used her key to let herself up.
“Merry Christmas, Becks,” she cried, barreling into my place like a hurricane. She threw her arms around my neck, squished a kiss on my face, then pulled away to study me at arm’s length.
“What are you doing?” I asked after a good ten seconds passed.
“I’m trying to see how smitten you are so I know where to take you to buy Zelda’s gift.” She frowned. “We’re still going shopping, right? God, you look like shit. Hangover?”
“Insomnia.” I pulled away and grabbed my coat. “And is smitten still a word?”
“It’s not a guy’s word,” she admitted, following me to the hallway. “How about, I want to see how bad you want to bone down with her.”
“Jesus, Dar.”
She cackled laughter. “That’s exactly what Zel said when I told her the same thing.”
I froze, stared. “You said… Wait, what?”
She laughed harder and slugged me in the shoulder. “Oh my God, you should see your face. Actually, I’m not kidding. You should.” She rummaged in her bag. “Let me take a picture…”
“Stop,” I said. “Not today, okay? I don’t need relationship advice, I need help picking out something for Zelda. Some decent art supplies. That’s all.”
Darlene snorted. “Borrrring. Zel can pick out her own art supplies. You need to give her something special.”
I’d had the exact thought myself, about a thousand times, but kept steering away from it.
“Okay, like what?” I asked as we walked in the cold, slushy morning to the bus stop.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe not something you plan for, but something you see and just know she has to have.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Good idea.” I felt Darlene stare up at me. “What?”
“You’re smiling.”
“I’m not smiling.”
“You’re smiling on the inside.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“Yes it is. I can see it in your eyes, Becks, and it makes me so happy to see you on the verge of being happy.”
“Zelda and I are just friends. We’re staying friends until the graphic novel is done.”
“How practical,” Darlene said, rolling her eyes.
“We have to be,” I said. “I can’t let anything hurt the chances of getting her work out.”
She frowned. “Isn’t it your work too, now?”
“A small part,” I said. “But it’s her story. It’ll always be her story.”
“I’d think you’d see this as a way out, Becks.”
“A way out of what?”
“Messengering. Bussing tables. There’s so much more to you than that stuff.”
“I never thought of myself as a graphic novelist.”
“Do you like it?”
“I guess so. I like watching the story come together.” I jammed my hands deeper in my coat pockets. “But it’ll always be hers.”
Darlene hmmphed. It steamed out of her nose.
“What’s that?” I asked. “Didn’t catch it.”
She looked up at me with a serious expression I’d hardly ever seen her wear. “When are you ever going to take a little piece of happiness for yourself?”
I stiffened against her question, and looked over her head, away from her eyes.
“I know what you’re looking at,” she said quietly. “And you have to forgive yourself, Becks. You have to.”
“You weren’t there, Dar,” I said.
“Maybe not, but I’m watching it eat you up, day by day, and I hate it.”
She turned away, her lower lip quivering and I knew I had 3.2 seconds to salvage the day.
“Well, shit, this shopping excursion is starting out on a downer note.” I nudged Darlene in the side. “Come on, Dar. Cheer up. Aren’t you dying to tell me about Kyle? Aren’t we all hanging out tonight? Somewhere besides my couch?”
She snorted a laugh at the same time her face brightened. “Don’t change the subject.”
But it worked. She prattled about Kyle all through the short bus ride to Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights. We walked along the little shops that were open, my eyes roving for something for Zelda and striking out. We stopped for lunch, and I bought a small loaf of cinnamon bread for Mrs. Santino, then continued the hunt.
I was ready to give up when Darlene led me into a little gift shop that sold artsy knick-knacks, specialized stationary, candles and incense. Tourists filled the aisles, which is why I suspected it was open at all. I glanced around doubtfully.
“This isn’t Zelda’s style,” I told Darlene.
“It’s kind of girly for her, but she is a girl. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
Once or twice…or a billion times.
Then my eyes fell on a table covered in snow globes. Some were cheap plastic, with the Empire State Building standing tall in a drift of snow that looked like white fish food. Others were ceramic with chubby angels sitting on rocks playing harps. The one that drew my eye, however, was mounted on a music box stand. The base was heavy pewter, and the glass sphere enclosed a tall Christmas tree. It was carved out of something heavy but delicate—I could see the detailing on the branches. Hundreds of little dots in all colors covered the boughs, painted in a way that made them seem to glow. I dipped it upside down, then turned it right again. A small hurricane of iridescent snow swirled around the tree.
“That’s pretty,” Darlene said. “What does it play?”
I twisted the little knob at the bottom, and set the snow globe back on the table. It spun slowly while the music box played a tinny version of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”
“I like that,” Darlene said.
“Me too.”
It’s perfect.
I took the snow globe to the cashier and Darlene gave a nervous squeak when the woman told me it was sixty-three dollars after tax.
“Fine,” I said without hesitation. “And could you gift wrap it, please?”
“That’ll be another eight dollars,” the woman said.
“No problem.”
Darlene’s elbow whacked mine. “Just friends my ass.”
We parted ways so we could get ready to go out with Kyle and my work buddies. My heart wasn’t in it. The idea of laughing it up with friends while Zelda was suffering down in Philly made me feel like shit.
I stopped at 2C to deliver the cinnamon bread. Santino took it with her usual sniff and a slam.
“Merry Christmas,” I said, and started to turn away when the door opened again.
Mrs. Santino held a sweater by the shoulders. A heavy knit turtleneck sweater in blinding lime green.
I blinked. “Is that…for me?”
She pressed its shoulders against mine to gauge the size, then nodded once, satisfied. She tossed the sweater over my shoulder, and then took my face in her hands.
“Che bravo ragazzo che sei, che ti prendi cura di Signora Santino. Tieniti questo per non prendere freddo. È verde come gli occhi del la tua ragazza. Magari lei che ti scalda invece, eh?”
She kissed me loudly on both cheeks, then retreated to her apartment and shut the door. Quietly.
I stood there, staring in shock for a solid minute.
“So that just happened…”
The sweater slid off my shoulder and I grabbed it before it hit the ground and rolled my bike down the hall.
I put Zelda’s gift by our little Christmas tree, then showered and dressed. Over jeans and a T-shirt, I pulled on Mrs. Santino’s sweater. I studied myself in the bathroom mirror.
“I’m ready for a debate tournament,” I muttered, grinning. I’d hear no end of shit from my friends for wearing it, but there was no way I wasn’t going to wear it.
I heard a key turn in the lock and the front door opened.
“Darlene, can you knock for once in your—?” I peeked my head out and nearly dropped dead.
Zelda. In her coat. A fine dusting of snow on her shoulders and beanie hat. Her long dark hair spilled over her shoulders.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey, yourself,” she said. She eyed my sweater with a small smile. “Chess tournament?”
“Debate,” I said. “You’re not supposed to be here until tomorrow. Are you okay?”
“Not really.” She set aside her rolling suitcase and shut the door behind her. “I couldn’t stay. I felt like I was going to shatter into a million pieces. Your magic was wearing off.”
“My magic?” I asked, my voice dropping backward into my throat.
Zelda smiled sadly, her eyes heavy and shadowed, and rimmed in red. “Yeah, Copeland,” she said softly. “Magic.” She took off her knit hat and spun it around in her hand. “But I don’t really want to talk about it anymore, okay? The visit, I mean. I’m just happy to be back.”
“Me too,” I said.
A silence fell and then her eyes went to the Christmas tree and the gift beside it. “Santa came,” she said. “Did he bring us a new radiator?”
I blinked. “No, that’s…for you. From me.”
Zelda went to the closet and retrieved a flat, square present, wrapped in solid red and tied with a black bow.
“You’ll never guess what this is,” she said, moving to the desk. “Not in a million years will you guess what this album-shaped present could possibly be.”
She put the gift next to mine, then sank down on the couch. “Are you going out?”
“Yeah. Darlene and a bunch of us are going to a bar. You want to come? You should come. If you’re up for it.”
“I’m not up for it.” A little light came back in her eyes. “But let me clarify: are you going out in that sweater?”
I sat beside her on the chair. “You’ll never guess who gave it to me.”
“Urkel? No…Sheldon Cooper.”
“For shame, Rossi. You’re going to feel so bad when I tell you it was Mrs. Santino.”
“Shut up.” She reached over and socked my arm. “For real?”
“She spoke to me too.”
“She speaks?”
“A bunch of Italian I didn’t follow, but yeah.”
“Mine is rusty. Can you recall anything? She might’ve been spilling the secrets of the universe.”
I held up my hands. “I took two years of Spanish and all I remember is ¿Dónde está el baño?”
“Wow,” she said. “A gal leaves for one day and everything changes.”
No shit, I thought.
“So,” Zelda said. “What time do the festivities start?”
I glanced at my phone. “Darlene and Kyle should be here in about twenty. Meeting the rest at the bar. But I don’t have to go.”
“Yes, you do. But you have a little time.” She got up and handed me the rectangular gift. “Merry Christmas.” She curled back on the couch, feet drawn up and arms crossed tight.
I unwrapped the paper and The Sinatra Christmas Album slipped into my hands. I sat with it in my lap for a minute. “How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“My grandfather had this album,” I said, trailing my fingers over the cover as memories swirled around my head. “We played it every year. It was lost or sold somewhere down the line. It wasn’t in his collection when I got out of prison.” I looked up at her, into her green eyed-gaze. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I took up her gift and set it in her lap.
“Gee, Copeland, you shouldn’t have,” she said. She pulled the champagne-colored bow off the beige box and opened it.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, and withdrew the snow globe from a nest of tissue paper. I watched her turn it around in her hands and give it a small shake. Snow flurries surrounded the tree and then settled.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s a music box too.”
Zelda found the little knob on the bottom and turned it. The tiny apartment filled with “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”
“I am, Zel,” I said. “Are you?”
Her green eyes found mine over the glass sphere. “I am now.”
The door buzzed, shattering the small moment.
“Give Darlene a big hug for me,” Zelda said, getting to her feet.
“Wait.”
“I’m fine, Beckett,” she said with a tight smile. “As much as I’d love to drink yesterday away, I’m not going to be any good in public. I’m going to take a shower, maybe order some takeout and watch Love Actually.”
“Zelda…”
“Go be with your friends,” she said, giving my shoulder a little push. “The world is waiting to see you in that sweater.”
She went to the bathroom and shut the door. I stared for a moment, frozen with inaction until the intercom buzzed again, jolting me. I grabbed my wallet, keys, and jacket and headed downstairs.