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“HI. WORKING ON A SUNDAY again?”
Charlotte spun around, nearly dropping the hot glue gun she was holding. “Hi Ensar,” she said. She felt her heart palpitate a little extra forcefully. Her spirits immediately lifted. From his dark, soulful eyes down to his work boots, he was like a beautiful snowflake in a world of Styrofoam packing peanuts. “And so are you, I see.”
“I’m always here,” shrugged Ensar. “Not much else to do when you don’t have many friends,” he said matter-of-factly.
“There’s a football game on today,” Charlotte suggested.
“I’m not so interested in American football. So, what do they have you working on today?” Ensar picked up the dish of flat plastic jewels that Charlotte had been about to reach into and looked at it questioningly.
“These jewels are for the Secret Santa Headquarters. That’s what this unused office is going to be now.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” said Ensar.
“Well, not to ruin the surprise for you, but Shane Letcher is going to make an announcement tomorrow that from now until Christmas, everyone needs to come in fifteen minutes earlier than usual and stay fifteen minutes later than usual, so they can take part in this mandatory fun Christmas activity, whether they want to or not.”
“Hmm. I see,” said Ensar. “Shane Letcher. Are you and he...” Ensar twisted his mouth, seeming to be searching for the right words. Charlotte realized he was referring to the hug he’d seen the other day.
“No! No way! Shane and I aren’t anything. He’s just my boss.”
“Good,” said Ensar.
He thinks that’s good, Charlotte noted, forcing the smile inside her not to go to her lips.
“And what does ‘Secret Santa’ mean?” Ensar asked.
“You’ve never heard of a Secret Santa gift exchange?” asked Charlotte.
“I’m afraid not,” said Ensar.
“Well, the way it normally works is that everyone draws a name and buys that person little gifts, over a period of several days or weeks. They try to keep their identity a secret, until the big reveal at the end of it. But since this is Shane’s idea, who can say how he wants to run it?”
“Interesting,” said Ensar.
“You don’t have Secret Santa parties in Turkey?”
“There are a lot of Muslims in Turkey, and we don’t get too involved with Secret Santa parties,” Ensar laughed.
“Oh, gosh. Have I made you uncomfortable?”
“No! Of course you haven’t,” he said.
“Okay. I wouldn’t want to. I mean... Never mind.” She shrugged, feeling awkward.
“You’re fine,” he told her.
She refocused on the jewel she was holding, sticking it into the last open place on the chair. “Ahh! Finished,” she said, “and it only took me all day. Looks great, right?”
She and Ensar stood back and took a long look at the table and four chairs, all covered in bumpy, lumpy, gluey, red plastic jewels and green plastic sprigs of holly. Just as Shane Letcher had requested. They both burst into laughter over how ugly it was.
“I didn’t want to say anything,” Ensar said, when he finally caught his breath.
“It wasn’t my idea to do this,” said Charlotte, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Good,” said Ensar. “All I can say is... good. You seem like a nice, sane woman, and if this had been your idea, I’d have to assume I was wrong.”
“Your English is great. Have you lived here long?” Charlotte asked Ensar, when she’d regained some composure.
“Thank you. No one around here seems to realize I speak English, which is fine with me. I’ve been in the states for two years, but I had years of English in school.”
“Have you lived all two years in Windy Pines?”
“No. When I first came here, I lived in Boise. I moved to Windy Pines this summer.”
“So, you’ve only been with O’Leery Snowboards a little longer than I have?”
“That’s right. About five months is all.”
“What brought you here? I mean, I’m not trying to interrogate you, I’m just interested in you,” she said. “I mean, not interested.” She drew in a deep breath, trying again, “I mean, not that I’m not interested, I just meant, you know... Anyway...” She tried to quiet the inner voice that was screaming ‘This is not going well. Quit talking! You sound like a bumbling spaz!’
Ensar politely pretended not to notice the hives breaking out on her neck. “I lived with my sister and her family in Boise for about a year. Then they relocated to this area, so I moved here too.”
“You know what? I lived in Boise at the same time you did.”
“Small world, as they say.”
“How do you like living here in the U.S.?”
“It’s different,” he said, smiling.
Charlotte gulped a little, trying to memorize the little crinkles by his eyes. Ensar’s smile was so beautiful. Waves of oxytocin were washing over her, trying to snuff out her hives. It was almost more than she could take.
“Different how?” she asked, seriously wanting to know. She refrained from reaching out and clutching his arm, despite that it would have seemed like her next logical move.
“Lonelier,” said Ensar. “On television, America looks like a big party, but in reality, Americans spend a lot of time alone or with just their families, at home. In Istanbul we go out more. We don’t have all these big houses and big yards and cars. Everything is closer and there’s a different feeling of community. It’s, how do I say it? It’s...”
“You can tell me,” said Charlotte.
Ensar looked around the room, as if the word might be plastered right in front of him on the wall or ceiling. And it was. “Life back in Istanbul is... more sophisticated, I guess, but also more basic. It’s hard to explain,” he added, seeming to sense Charlotte may not appreciate how direct he was being. Still he continued with the painful truth: “It’s cooler, I suppose?” he said, his gaze lingering on an O’Leery Snowboards sign from a few years back that rested in the corner of the room, proclaiming ‘O’Leery Snowboards are cooler than the competition!’
You don’t think Americans are cool? You don’t think I’m cool? Charlotte thought, smoothing her Lisa Simpson sweatshirt and brushing back her greasy hair. “Your country is cooler,” she repeated.
“I mean that we dress up when we go out,” Ensar continued, “and we relax more.”
“You relax more? I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” said Charlotte.
“Here it feels like it’s all about working hard and recovering. It’s why people here eat too much and drink too much, and why you watch too much television. It’s why you all need to own so many comfortable clothes. Since my sister has moved here, she now cares about very soft socks. ‘I can’t help you yet. Let me put my fleece socks on first and pour a glass of wine,’ she tells her kids. Although, I suppose she’s in mourning. But everyone seems to live like that. Or am I wrong?”
“I don’t know. I never thought about it,” Charlotte admitted. She had at least ten pairs of fleece socks at home.
“Most of all, it’s a little boring here,” said Ensar.
“Wow,” said Charlotte. So Ensar really hated it here. Who would have guessed he had so much to say? Having never traveled outside the United States, she found his opinions fascinating. And a little insulting.
“I sound judgmental, I guess?” said Ensar.
“I asked you how it’s different, so how can I be upset that you’re telling me? It’s interesting to me,” said Charlotte.
“Home is very different from here. I miss it,” said Ensar.
“So then why do you stay here?” she asked him, instantly regretting the question. Why was it so hard to say the right thing in front of him? “See, that sounded rude again! I feel like we hardly know each other, but we’re about to get in a fight.”
Ensar laughed. “You’ve never stayed in an uncomfortable situation?”
Charlotte twisted her mouth. She sighed.
“This is not a fight,” said Ensar. “I know what you meant. It’s a fair question. I stay here because the only family I have left is here. To complicate matters, my sister’s husband died not very long ago. She has three young children who are used to this country now. This is their home. So I’m staying here as long as they need me.”
“And you spend a lot of time with them?”
“Yes, when I’m not here. She lives thirty minutes away from here, in Winter River, so I don’t see them every night. About one weeknight and on weekends. I take my nephews and niece to the soccer stadium or to the park sometimes so Esma can have a break from them.”
“Your sister’s name is Esma?” asked Charlotte.
“Yes,” said Ensar.
“That’s a pretty name.”
Ensar nodded and then refocused his attention on the bejeweled chair. “So... This chair with the rubies. This is what Santa likes?”
“Honestly, I think Shane Letcher is just trying to keep me tied up with busywork because he can.”
“You’re probably right,” said Ensar.
“Are you going to see your family today yet, or did you already see them this morning?”
“Um, neither. I thought I’d come into work instead.”
“Did you get assigned a bunch of projects too?” asked Charlotte.
“No.”
“Catching up on things?”
“No,” said Ensar.
“You love this place so much that you figured you’d spend your Sunday here?”
“I thought I might see you,” Ensar admitted.
“Oh. Ohhhh,” said Charlotte. She nodded once. She tried to fight the smile overtaking her face, but then, there it was. She was grinning like a jack-o-lantern.
Ensar smiled too. “Would you like to go out sometime with me?”
“Yes,” said Charlotte.
“Is Friday night good for you?”
“Sure!”
“Okay, then. It’s a date,” said Ensar.
“It’s a date,” Charlotte repeated, the maniacal smile returning. Never ever ever wear this sweatshirt again. Throw it away, she was telling herself throughout it all.
“See you tomorrow,” Ensar said, seeming to sense that if he stuck around for ten more seconds she might explode from excitement.
“Cool,” said Charlotte. “Bye!” She watched Ensar limp away, a hundred thoughts swimming in her head: I’ve lost my mind. I’ve spent the whole day bedazzling office furniture. I need to find a new job and I’m too busy to even look for one. I left the house wearing the sweatshirt I slept in. And I’m totally falling for Ensar.