Christmas Chocolat

Leaving San Diego was proving to be easier than expected. It was a sign. I spent the week tying up loose ends. Laura, our landlady, already had a new tenant lined up for the fifteenth of January so we could leave the furniture until after the first of the year. My grades were in and I sleepwalked through my good-byes.

I spent Tuesday evening, the night of Dante’s ultimatum, wrapping the gifts I’d made in tissue paper and packing them. I couldn’t get in the spirit, despite the lights and the Christmas carols. For my father, I’d bought a beautiful gray silk robe. The inspiration wouldn’t come so I’d settled for a simple Merry Christmas, Love, Colette in darker gray thread. I needed a suitcase just for the presents. I felt like Santa.

Wayne had borrowed a surfboard and got in some last days of surfing before leaving San Diego. Boston and our new life dominated our conversations. I figured my feeling of being outside my body observing my actions, listening to—rather than living—my words stemmed from how suddenly all this came about. And also how crazy I went when he’d left. What had I been thinking? Stealing, going to Vegas, gambling. Lucky thing Wayne returned some sanity to my world.

My thoughts skirted around the image of Dante waiting for me at the Bella Luna. He was probably gone by now. It was late. How late, I didn’t know because I didn’t dare look at the clock. Saying good-bye would have been too messy.

I’d also confessed everything to Gali during a long phone call. I didn’t leave out a single detail. She went from outrage at Wayne’s abandonment, to shock at my life of crime, to a touch of envy at my enchanted Vegas weekend, to relief that it was over and I was safe. She even promised to be on her best behavior with Wayne.

I’d never had a wild teenage phase so I guess it had been time to get it out of my system.

“Babe, can you come give me a hand with this?”

I went into the other room. Wayne was holding up one end of the couch. “I figure we can get a head start on moving and get rid of some of this junk. We can set it out on the sidewalk, some Mexicans are bound to pick it up.”

“Just leave it. We’ll deal with it later. Besides, it’s started to rain.”

“Rain might actually improve it.” He made a face.

I winced. “Look. I’ll take care of it when we get back from Pennsylvania. We have time. I don’t want to tear up the house just yet.” My hand lingered on the back of the sofa.

“When we get back from where?”

“Pennsylvania, you remember? Christmas? All that good cheer. Tons of good food? Courtesy of my sister?” I rapped my knuckles lightly against his skull.

“I never said I’d go.”

“But—”

“I booked a condo in Aspen for Christmas. Get in some good West Coast skiing before slogging back East.” He grinned.

“But I promised. I assumed you’d want to spend Christmas with me,” I said, tugging at the neck of my sweater. It was too hot in the room.

“I do. In Aspen. Aww, Colette, don’t make me waste Christmas with your family. You can’t ask me to do that.”

“I can’t?”

“You know how I feel.”

“No. Enlighten me.”

“You’re asking me to choose between skiing in Aspen and Christmas with your sisters and father, and oh, that aunt. Come on, it’s a no-brainer. You gotta see.” He lifted his hands, palms out.

And all of a sudden I did see. The no-brainer was me. I looked at the clock. Eleven-thirty. Maybe there was still time. I grabbed my bag from the counter and pulled on a jacket and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

I didn’t answer.

He grabbed me. I twisted away.

“Let me go, Wayne. It isn’t going to work.”

“What isn’t?’

“Us.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? We belong together. You need me.”

I yanked my arm away from his grasp. It was going to leave a bruise. I looked at him straight in the eye. “Wayne, baby—Can’t do this. It’s not you, it’s me. Sorry if I hurt you, babe. Bye. C.”

I dug the light blue box out of my bag and put it on the table. Then, I rushed off into the night. I didn’t even stop to look for my car keys. The restaurant was only seven or eight blocks away. I jogged through the drizzle, passing all the twinkling Christmas lights, candy canes, and Santas. Please let him still be there. I broke into a run. It was not midnight yet.

I was panting as I turned the corner and headed across the street to the Bella Luna.

My heart sank.

No. It was still Tuesday!

But the café was shrouded in darkness. I pressed up against the plate glass door and peered in, with my palms pressed on either side of my face. Nothing but empty tables dressed for tomorrow’s customers. I looked over to “our” table by the window where I could see nothing but the ghosts of what could have been.

I turned and slid down the glass door to the pavement. I put my head between my knees and let go.

“Hey, kid. Are you okay?”

I looked up and saw a cop leaning over me. He was short and stocky.

“Sorry,” he said. “You’re not exactly a kid, are you? It’s just that you look so small sitting there. Here, get up.”

I took the hand he offered and he pulled me to my feet.

“Nothing can be that bad.” He handed me a tissue. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. “You look like you just lost your best friend or something.”

“Something like that.”

“You can fix it in the morning.”

“No,” I said, my voice a shaky whisper. “I blew it.”

“You can’t know that. Things have a way of working themselves out. Unless you’re doing something illegal, that is.” He chuckled. “Like you would be the type. Go home, get a good night’s sleep. It’ll look better in the morning.” He looked at his watch. “It’s midnight.”

“Midnight,” I echoed. And I would forever be a pumpkin.

“It’s really starting to come down. Let me give you a ride.” He pointed to his car.

I shook my head. “No. I live really close to here.”

“If you’re sure. You know, there really aren’t that many mistakes you can make that can’t be undone.”

At least there was one mistake I would sidestep. Going off to Boston with Wayne.

We turned onto the street and I almost expected to see Dante standing there at the corner, his hair plastered to his head by the rain.

But this wasn’t a movie. In real life, very few of us got an Audrey Hepburn moment.