Connect the Dots
Two Days before Christmas
I scrolled the words Dear Santa across the page. For crying out loud, how stupid is this?
“Come on, Mom,” Nicole said, placing a long fold in her letter. “It’s not that hard.”
I dropped my pen on the table. “It’s hard if you’re a grown-up.”
“Just write down what you want.” She bent and tucked the folds together, molding her letter into a perfect origami star.
“But I don’t want anything.”
Nicole held up her creation, scratching a freckled cheek. “Everyone wants something.” She fastened a paperclip to her star and hung it on the Christmas tree. The matte paper stood out from the bright glass ornaments.
I ran my fingers across my bare neckline. I’d love to have back the ornate silver and gold necklace that Nicole broke a few months ago, but I couldn’t write that. It would hurt her feelings.
“I’m too old to be writing to Santa,” I announced.
“Then write to God. He listens too.”
I narrowed my eyes. Stinker. “Okay…” I placed my pen on the sheet and crossed out Dear Santa. “Okay. Dear God.” I sighed. “It’s not helping. I still don’t know what to ask for.”
I threw my long, dark ponytail over my shoulder and tapped my pen across the sheet, leaving a wavy line of dots marring the clean, white-lined paper.
Nicole shook her head, jostling her auburn locks. “Come on, Mom. Just write something. It’s God. He already knows what you want.”
“Then can He tell me?” The rumble of the school bus granted me a temporary respite. “Grab your lunch.”
“Got it.” She tossed the brown bag into her backpack and grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair. “See you later, Mom.” The screen door slammed behind her, rattling the knickknacks on the shelf beside the door. The frigid December air swirled through the kitchen, pushing the paper across the table.
I tossed my pen to the side and poured myself another cup of coffee. Liquid heaven rolled down my throat. Well, day-old reheated liquid heaven. I tossed the rest down the sink. Coffee Stop drive-through here I come. I popped the last bit of toast into my mouth and grabbed my car keys.
The nearly empty sheet of paper shifted across the tabletop as I passed by. The words Dear God taunted me.
Writing the letter didn’t seem like a game anymore.
Dear God… it doesn’t get more serious than that.
What do I want? I hadn’t thought of it much since Bill took off on us. The pressure of being both Mommy and Daddy left little time for thinking about me. What I wanted was for Nicky to be happy. Nothing else seemed to matter.
I eased back down into my chair, picked up the pen, and began tapping it on the paper again. Another line of scrolling black dots appeared across the sheet. What do I want… really? My wrist flicked, and I wrote the word please.
I stared at the letters, and before I knew it a sentence had formed. Fifteen little words stared up at me, the blue ink solid and demanding on the white ruled page.
Permanent, but ridiculous.
It’s not even what I want. I crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it over the counter. It scooted across the beige surface before slipping off and falling into the trashcan.
Done.
I’m too old for Christmas wishes anyway.
****
A sip of my mocha skinny latte caressed my tongue. I stretched my neck, waiting for my computer to boot up. The sounds of laptops hitting desks and fellow office workers greeting each other bounced off the five-foot partitions separating the workspaces.
I smiled as the familiar rumbling roll of my best friend’s chair ended in a bang against the outer wall of my cubicle. The papers thumbtacked to the tan, mottled fabric gyrated until a white-cuffed hand gripped the panel and stopped the movement.
“Today is the best day ever,” Jack said, rolling his chair into my cubicle with a push of his perfectly polished wingtips.
“And why is that?”
He placed an elbow on my desk and leaned on his fist. His deep blue eyes twinkled. Even sitting down, Jack’s six-foot frame dwarfed me. “Because I scored Monica Dubin for Secret Santa.”
A shudder ran down my spine and tingled its way to my toes… partly from hearing Monica’s name, and partly in relief that I hadn’t picked her. “You’re excited about that? She always bad-mouths what she got after New Year’s.”
“Well, not this time.” Jack ran his fingers through his carefully sculpted brown hair. “Don’t you get it? This is my big chance. How long have I been waiting for this?”
“Since the seventh grade. I know. You’ve mentioned it twelve times.” I shook my head, wispy brown tendrils bouncing at my cheeks. “Jack, she’s never even given you the time of day.”
“Well, she’ll have to now, or when we reveal ourselves at the Christmas party, she won’t get her present.”
“How can you be such an optimist?”
“Because I believe that a positive attitude can make anything happen. Why are you such a pessimist?”
My right eyebrow inched up. “Because I’ve been around long enough to know better.”
“You know what, Jilly-Jill? I think you’re afraid to be happy.”
I straightened. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I know it’s been tough on you and the munchkin since Bill took off with that bimbo, but it doesn’t mean the next guy is going to be a scumbag too.”
“I don’t think that.” I lowered my gaze, my stomach churning.
“No? Then why did you turn down Jason in accounting when he asked you to dinner?”
“Because his ex-wife divorced him for cheating.”
“Okay, bad example.” He rubbed his chin. “And Steve?”
I looked away. The thought of Steve’s sparkling smile and tight butt left my heart racing. “It didn’t feel right.”
“Didn’t feel right? Shucks, I’m straight and I’d do him.”
I snickered. “No chance. He’s out of your league.”
“So you do like him.”
“Yeah… I’m just…”
“Scared?”
My face flushed. How did Jack always manage to get me to talk about my feelings? “Okay. I’m guilty. I’m scared, okay? It’s not only me who’ll be hurt again if I make another bad decision. I have Nicole to worry about too.”
He shook his head. “Come on. You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t even try.”
“I don’t know.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, his expression beaming. “I have an idea.”
“I don’t like that look, Jack. It always gets me into trouble.”
He picked up the unopened Secret Santa envelope lying on my desk and tapped the red foiled writing on the back of his hand. “I happen to know that Rachel and Eleanor got each other, and Amanda got Giles, and Jason got Amanda.”
“I thought this was supposed to be Secret Santa.”
He chuckled. “Copy machine talk. You just gotta connect the dots.” He stood and paced the two and a half steps it took to get from one side of my cubicle to the other. “Elaine has me. I can tell by the way she looked at me this morning.”
“She always looks at you like that. She’s hot for you.”
“Don’t remind me. That leaves Steve, Larry, and Cole… all of who are single. This leaves a wide open door for you.” He punched me playfully on the shoulder. “This could be the year for both of us, Slugger!”
“I don’t know, Jack.”
He waved the envelope in my face. “Do you want to see who the lucky guy is, or shall I?”
“Give me that.” I stood, grabbing for the letter.
His mischievous grin returned. “Only if you promise to hang out at the Christmas party and make a little time with whoever’s name is on this card.”
“I’m not promising anything.”
“Promise,” Jack demanded, waving the envelope just out of my annoyingly petite reach. Blast his height.
“Okay, I promise.” I plucked the envelope out of his hand and waved the gold-trimmed writing in his face. “This better be Steve, or I’m going to spit on you, I swear.”
He shook a finger at me. “No, no, no… spitting in the office is grounds for formal corrective action, you know.”
I pushed his chair out of my cubicle. It glided across the hall and right through his office door. “Don’t you have work to do?”
His shoes clopped on the tiled floor as he left. “That’s okay. I don’t need to know. I’ll find out at the copy machine next week.”
I plopped into my chair and glanced at the log-in prompt flashing on my screen. My fingers swept over the keys and pressed enter. The red envelope sat beside my keyboard, beckoning.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I might as well get this over with.” I slipped a letter opener through the edge and set the golden postcard free. A deep breath prepared me as I turned the card over.
The letter opener fell from my hand and clanged on the floor. The reverberation echoed through the office, and someone down the hall yelled, “You’re gonna hafta pay for that.”
I placed the card down and rubbed my eyes, but it didn’t have the magic effect I’d hoped for. Beautiful calligraphy letters spelled out the last name I expected.
Jack Acres.
****
The scent of cheap perfumes slapped my face as I pushed open the bathroom door. I resisted the urge to turn and leave. The girls’ club posed and fluffed before the mirrors, primping like prom queens rather than secretaries and accountants.
“Good morning.” I smiled. Not that they’d notice me, them being lost inside their gossiping gaggle. I opened a stall door and slipped inside.
I peered through the crack beside the hinges. Monica’s perfectly sculpted butt jutted out as she leaned toward the mirror to apply her lipstick. Her tight skirt enunciated all those curves God forgot to give me and blessed her with in abundance. An envious sigh slipped from my lips as I sat down to do my business.
“So,” Monica said. “I got Steve for Secret Santa. I can’t wait to give him my present.”
My stomach sank and flipped.
“What are you getting him?” Elaine asked.
Monica giggled. “I was thinking of lingerie.”
I cringed. So much for Steve. How could I compete with someone so beautiful?
“So, who got Jack?” Elaine asked. “That’s a pipe I’d like to tap. I saw him at the gym the other day. I’m telling you, that boy’s hiding some major pecs under that conservative suit of his.”
“Mmmm,” Monica said. “I wouldn’t mind a piece of Jack myself. He’s the perfect pop and drop date.”
“Pop and drop?” Surprise touched Elaine’s voice.
“Yeah, you know… great for a good time, but not good enough to marry. He’s cute enough to screw, but I need a little extra padding in the wallet to turn me on for more than a one night stand. You know what I mean?”
Amanda giggled. “You are wicked, girlfriend. I wanna be you when I grow up.”
You are grown up, you idiot. I stood and readjusted my slacks.
“Well, you can’t have both Steve and Jack,” Elaine said. “You need to leave a little for the rest of us.”
I leaned up to the crack once more. Monica fluffed her golden locks in the mirror. What I wouldn’t give for her curls, her curves. I mean, really God, couldn’t you have just given me a few ounces of her boobs? Shoot… I’d take any part of her over my boring body.
“Well, I’m six for six at getting laid at the Christmas party,” Monica said. “So who should I do this year?”
Did she just say what I think she said?
“Flip a coin. I get the loser,” Amanda said.
“Okay. Heads Jack. Tails Steve.”
I rubbed my face as I heard a coin hit the floor. The gaggle cried out in the same instant and began high-fiving each other. I stretched up and down the crack in the door trying to see the coin, but Amanda picked it up and slipped it in her pocket.
The girls’ club streamed from the bathroom, leaving Monica smoothing her skirt and checking her butt in the mirror. I squeezed my hands into fists, my nails biting into my flesh.
Monica posed, smiling at her reflection. An innocent expression crossed her face. “Oh, Jack… I’ve wanted you ever since we were partners in science class.”
Oh, no.
Her face changed back to the witch I knew so well. “He’ll go for it,” she whispered. “They always do.”
I leaned back against the cold metal wall, holding my breath. Monica’s heels tapped on the tile work until the door squeaked open and shut.
The dripping of a faucet resonated through the room as I rubbed my hands across my forehead, lingering in my solitude.
Poor Jack.
****
The spreadsheet on my screen flashed, refreshing itself — again.
“You’re not finished with the trace back reports yet? They’re due tomorrow.” Jack’s voice broke through the fog, jostling me back into reality.
“Uh, yeah… ummm… no.”
“Slugger, you usually slice through these things. What’s up?”
I took a deep breath. “It’s about Monica.”
He sat in the chair beside my desk. “Yeah. I wanted to ask you… what do you think would be the perfect gift?”
“Diamonds, sports car, a yacht...”
“I was thinking about chocolate. Everyone likes chocolate, right?”
“Better make it the expensive stuff,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Jack, listen. I don’t think you and Monica together is a good idea.”
He leaned back. “Jilly-Jill, are you jealous?”
“No. Of course not. I care about you, and I don’t want you hurt.”
He pursed his lips. Disappointment crossed his features. “How about you have a little confidence in me?”
“I do. I think you’re great. It’s Monica I have issues with.”
He leaned across my desk. “Listen,” he whispered. “You’re my best friend. You of all people know how crazy I am about this girl. Why are you doing this to me when I finally have a chance with her?”
Everyone’s had their chance with her. I rubbed my forehead. “I think you can do better, that’s all.”
“Do better than Monica? Do you need glasses or something?”
I took a deep breath. “I wish you’d consider that maybe you’re still hung up on a teenage crush.”
Jack sat back. “I wish you would consider that maybe she wasn’t my first choice.”
“What? Who? Please tell me it’s not Amanda.”
He shook his head. “Never mind. Listen, I like Monica. Why don’t you give her a chance?”
“She’s pompous, overbearing, conceited…”
“I can’t believe you’re being like this.”
“What… caring about my best friend?”
“Best friends support each other, Jill.” He turned on his heels and stomped out the door.
Jill.
My own name stung like razors slashing my skin. I’d been Slugger, or Jilly-Jill, for nearly five years now. The detachment in his voice horrified me more than the thought of him sleeping with the bimbo.
I rolled back my chair and stormed over to his office. “I am being supportive. Jack, please…”
The furrow in his brow startled me. “You gotta get over whatever stinking jealous grudge you have with Monica.”
“I am not jealous!”
He slammed the door shut behind me. “No? I see the way you look at her, and then you look at yourself in the mirror with that stupid, annoying, crinkled nose.”
“I do not.” Except for in the bathroom this morning.
“Oh, sure you don’t.” His eyes softened. “You’re pretty, and have nice legs, and beautiful brown eyes, and an amazing smile if you’d ever use it, but you can’t see all these great things because you’re always too hung up on wishing you had what everyone else does.”
My jaw tensed. “I am not like that.”
“Bull. Ever since Bill left you’ve been detached… cut off.”
“I have not!”
“No? What about the time Nicky broke the necklace your mother gave you before she died?”
“Don’t you dare bring that up.”
“You threw it away, Jill. You threw it away, and it meant the world to you.”
“That has nothing to do with this!”
“It does. It has everything to do with this.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Listen. You are my best friend. I don’t want you ticked off at me, but you really need to get a grip and move on. If you’d just open your eyes, you’d see…” His gaze locked on mine. Sadness touched his eyes before he blinked and eased into his chair. “Never mind. We need to get back to work. I’m sure the vultures are circling by now.”
Trembling, but relieved the uncomfortable conversation was over, I slipped from his office, closing the door behind me. Heads peeking up from the tops of partitions darted for cover as I nearly knocked over Cole Peters in the hall. Rachel and Eleanor spun to the charts on the cubicle wall beside them, pretending they hadn’t been listening.
Eavesdropping idiots.
At the far end of the hall, Monica stood fanning her cleavage with a manila folder. Had she heard too? I wanted nothing more than to rip the smug smile from her perfectly painted lips.
I set my jaw, slipped into my cubicle, and flopped into my chair. A gentle massage of my temples did nothing to deaden the ache in my skull. My stomach twisted, constricting my insides into a pent-up bomb waiting to explode, while lunch threatened a second appearance.
The spreadsheet refreshed as I tapped my mouse. Line ten prompted for a comment. I pulled myself up to my computer, refusing to give in to the nausea nudging my gut. Was Jack right about me? Do I really dwell on what others have? I tapped my fingers across my keyboard and pushed Jack out of my head. These trace back reports weren’t going to analyze themselves.
****
Line twenty-six: Insufficient data. I ran my fingers through my hair and pulled. The clock on the bottom right-hand corner of my monitor changed to five-fourteen. I have to get home to Nicole.
“Hey.” Jack leaned in. “Do I still have an open invitation to sit on your desk?”
My neck tensed. “Are you sure you want to be near me and my jealous grudge?”
The wall shifted as he propped himself against it. “Okay, listen. It’s like this. I love copy machine talk as much as the next person, but it’s not as fun when it’s about me.”
“You mean us.”
“Well, yeah.” His lips formed a rigid line. “The office consensus is that I was a jerk. So here is me sucking it up and apologizing. I said a lot of things I didn’t mean earlier.”
I forced a smile. “So you don’t think I have nice legs?”
“I didn’t say you had nice legs.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Prove it.”
I snickered, tapping my fingers on the edge of my mouse. Jack stood in the center of my cubicle, arms folded. He’s waiting for your apology now. Ugh! But he was such an idiot! I had to say something, though. “I suppose I could give Monica a chance.” Oh no. Did I really say that?
The cockiest of smiles crossed his lips. I was about to smack it off his face, when it faded.
He pointed at my monitor. “You didn’t finish the trace back report? Crap, you barely even started it!”
I rubbed my forehead. “I know. I’ve been preoccupied.”
“Slugger, you need that done by tomorrow’s meeting or Chambers will have your rear in a sling.”
“I know, I know. That’s why I’m still here.”
Jack sighed. “Tell you what. I haven’t seen the munchkin in a while. How about I stop over tonight and help you analyze those stupid numbers. I’ll bring Chinese.”
He leaned on my desk. The muscles in his arm stretched against his shirt. Wow, maybe he does have some pecs. I dragged my eyes from the taut fabric. “You know what? That’d be great.”
He tweaked my nose. “I’ll be there around seven. I need to stop on my way home to get a box of chocolate for Monica. It will only cost about ten, fifteen bucks, right?
I pressed my lips together. Every ounce of me screamed not to help him, but I caved. “Sweetie, if you want to impress a girl, you’re going to have to do better than fifteen dollars.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, if you were a girl, what kind would you want?”
“If I were a girl?”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Jilly-Jill. You know what I mean.”
I suppressed the growl brewing in my throat. “Go to the mall and get her a pound of Lady Gordoba.”
“Two days before Christmas? I’m not going to the stinking mall!”
I threw my hands in the air. “Go ahead. Buy whatever you can find at the drug store. She's going to sleep with you anyway.”
“What?”
Oh no, please tell me I didn’t say that! Sweat beaded on my brow and temples. “Ummm, I mean, she’ll probably be happy with whatever you get her, you know?”
The left side of his lip turned up before the right side — one of my favorite quirks about him. “All right. I guess I’m going to the stupid mall.” He pointed toward my envelope. “So, who are you shopping for after work?”
I slid the envelope beneath my keyboard. “That’s my little secret.”
Jack winked and turned to leave. “You better get something to knock his socks off and slip him into your bed.”
Yeah. Sure. That’s never going to happen. “I’ll see you at seven, hotshot.”
****
“Why exactly did you buy Uncle Jack a mug?” Nicole tilted the gift box, her gaze running over the lettering.
“I told you, I got him for Secret Santa.”
“But a Best Friends mug? Isn’t that a little lame, even for you?”
I snatched the box from her hand and folded a piece of teddy-bear Santa wrapping paper around it. “Well, what was I supposed to get him? We’ve never bought presents for each other.” I rubbed down the last piece of tape, and the doorbell rang. “That can’t possibly be Jack already. He only left a few minutes before me.” Nicole headed toward the door as I slipped the package under the tree.
“Chinese is here!” Jack’s voice boomed as he entered the kitchen. “Hey Nicky-Bomb.”
“Hey, Uncle Jack.”
He placed the bags on the table.
“You got here fast,” I said. “I thought you were going to the mall.”
“Nah, I jumped on my phone instead. Gordoba.com had guaranteed delivery on all orders placed by five-thirty. I got in just under the wire.”
“The party is tomorrow afternoon. Aren’t you worried about it not getting here?”
Jack removed a tub of egg drop soup from the bag and set it on the table. “For the price I paid for shipping, it better get here on time — and hey, do you know how much that Gordoba stuff costs? It’s crazy.”
Nicky ripped open a pack of egg rolls. “What’d you ask Santa for, Uncle Jack?”
Jack eased into a chair and slipped a paper plate in front of him. “Oh, I don’t really get presents anymore. Well, except for the stupid mugs I get every year for Secret Santa.”
I flinched. “Mugs?”
“Yeah, you’ve gotten them too, haven’t you? It’s the basic ‘I don’t care so I just got the first thing I could find’ present. I hate that. I always bring them home and donate them to the shelter. I mean, how many stinking mugs do you need, right?”
Nicky glanced in my direction. I did my best to not react at all.
She pointed her egg roll at him. “So, if you could have the perfect gift, the one thing you’ve always wanted, what would it be?”
A smile crept across Jack’s face. “Honestly? I’d love to have a copy of Tales from the Cotton Fields.”
I poured a gob of soup into my bowl. “The old animated movie? Wasn’t that banned or something?”
“Yeah. I don’t know why. All I remember about it was Hippity Rabbit running away from this dumb fox and my dad and I singing the theme song all the way home after seeing it.” Jack pushed his fried rice around with his fork. “I’d love to bring that to him at the nursing home. I think it might…” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s stupid, I guess.”
Nicky pushed out her chair. “I’ll be right back.” She ran to the utility closet and pulled out a sheet of yellow construction paper. A brush of her fingertips placed it squarely in front of Jack. “Here you go. Write a letter and ask for it.”
“What? Like to Santa?”
She raised an eyebrow in my direction. “It can be to whoever you want. But the trick is hanging it on the tree. It always works.”
“Whaddya mean?”
I reached across the table to grab a fortune cookie. “We started this tradition a few years ago. We don’t send our letters to Santa. We fold them into ornaments and hang them on the tree.”
Nicole crinkled the bag of Chinese noodles, spreading a handful across her plate. “Yep, and ever since, everything we’ve asked for has happened.”
“So, I can ask for a sports car?”
I laughed. “We usually ask for something a little more important.”
“Is my movie important enough?”
“Yes,” Nicky said, “since you want it to make your dad happy.”
Jack’s expression softened. “So not necessarily tangible things, huh?” Nicky nodded, and Jack scribbled on the sheet. He stared at the words for a moment and folded the paper in half. “Now what?”
Nicky plucked the page from his hands and adeptly molded Jack’s letter into an origami star. She reached behind her and grabbed a paperclip from my desk. A few twists bent it into a hook as she affixed it to the ornament.
She led Jack to the tree. “Now you wish with all your might and hang it as high as you can.”
Jack fingered the paper in his hands, his expression serene. He reached to the highest limb, easy with his height, and hooked the paperclip over a branch near the angel. He carefully turned the ornament out and stared at the paper star, smiling.
What did you wish for, Jack?
****
Jack slipped his jacket over his shoulders.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for some coffee?”
He raised his hands defensively. “Jilly-Jill, I’ve tasted your coffee. I’d rather get a root canal.”
“Ha ha, very funny. Anyway — thanks for coming over.” I gave him a hug. “I really appreciate the help with that report, and thanks for humoring Nicky with the origami thing.”
“Hey, it’s not like I had anything else to do.” He gave me a tap on the shoulder. “You know I love hanging with you guys. So, are you all ready for Christmas?”
“Yeah, everything is wrapped and hidden under the stairs.”
“Nicky didn’t find that spot yet?”
I chortled. “Even if she did, she wouldn’t look. She is all about keeping the magic of Christmas alive.”
Jack lowered his gaze.
“Are you going to see your dad for Christmas?”
“I don’t know. Christmas hasn’t been all that magical for the past few years. He’d probably be happier spending the day with his friends.”
I raised my eyebrow. “In the nursing home?”
“It just hasn’t been the same since my mom died, ya know?”
His face saddened, and I ran my hand down his shoulder. Even through the cloth his warmth touched me. “You know I’m here if you need to talk, right?”
He sucked in the side of his cheek. His gaze lingered on mine, soaking through my soul. The intensity in his eyes drew me toward a pain deep within him. I took a step forward, but he blinked and backed up.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, clearing his throat. He touched his fingers to the door handle. “I hope it works out for you and Steve tomorrow.”
“How do you know it’s Steve?” I managed to hold a straight face.
He cracked a smile and stole a kiss from my cheek. “I want you to be as happy as me, that’s all.”
“As happy as you?”
He slipped out the door, walking backward toward his car. His face beamed with childish delight. “Yep. I just wrote a letter to Santa asking to spend Christmas with Monica. I’m a shoe-in now.”
The wind whipped up, jostling his hair as he fumbled with his keys. Oh, you’re a shoe-in all right, but I’m not so sure you’re going to be happy afterward.
Jack’s car backed out of the driveway, and I darted for my computer.
“What are ya doing, Mom?”
I typed Tales from the Cotton Fields into the search box. “Finding him that stupid movie.”
“Do you think that’s really what he asked for?”
“No — but I happen to know he’s going to get exactly what he wants, and it’s going to make him miserable. He’s going to need something to cheer him up.”
I scrolled through the screens. Out of Print. Out of Print. Discontinued. Blast it! I flipped over to an auction site. Three hits popped up. Two listings lasting two more days and one Buy It Now. I clicked on the flashing Buy It Now. The window opened up. Condition: good. Overnight delivery if payment received by four o’clock the preceding day. Too late. My eyes narrowed over the two-hundred-dollar price tag. Screw it. I hit the Buy it Now button and opted for overnight delivery. It won’t get here until the day after Christmas, but it would have to do.