Joy paced in her tiny studio apartment, trying to breathe. She balled her hands and let out a frustrated scream. How could she have lost her cool like that? Sure, maybe she’d had moments where she thought the problem with all of her bad dates wasn’t the guys she chose but her. And okay, lately she’d been feeling… restless? Unsatisfied? Unsettled?
She spun on her heels and eyed her closet. Hangers poked out at all angles like some kind of modern art installation. A ridiculous assortment of evening dresses were piled on her bed, reminding her how much time she’d wasted getting ready for a date she never had.
She tugged the dress she was wearing over her head instead of unzipping it and tossed it in the corner. Blinking back tears she changed into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater. Throwing a fit physically drained her. Joy dropped back down on her bed, using what little energy she had left to tuck her legs under her. She rested her chin on her hand, her gaze finding its way back to her closet.
“What are you doing, Joy?”
There was no one there to reply.
Her closet had become one of those pimples that wouldn’t go away. The more she stared at it, the bigger it got. She could ignore it and climb under the covers for the rest of the night, the week, a month, maybe forever. But the pimple closet would still be there, waiting for her . Joy pulled herself up and forced herself to take the few steps to the kitchen. She got one garbage bag from under the sink and eyed her closet again. With a resigned sigh, she grabbed the entire box and went back to her closet, setting the box at her feet.
She rested her hands on her hips. “It’s time to make a change,” she said with more resolve than she felt.
It was close to two in the morning, and three stuffed garbage bags sat by the front door, waiting to go to the hospital thrift shop. If someone needed a last-minute holiday outfit, they’d hit the jackpot. The pimple closet was a regular closet again. An empty closet waiting for a fresh start. The whole apartment felt lighter. She looked around the room she’d furnished in shades of brown and plum. A fluffy duvet and plump pillows beckoned her.
She climbed under the covers, exhaustion finally catching up with her. “It’s up to you, Joy. Sexy Santa isn’t going to make your wishes come true,” she whispered as her eyes drifted closed.
The next morning Joy diverted from her usual morning routine and called her dad.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
He wasn’t a helicopter parent; her pops was the parent who gave her space, always letting her come to him when she was ready. That didn’t mean he was distant though. Pops was the quieter, more thoughtful of her two dads. No matter when she called or what she was doing, he always answered on the first ring.
Hearing her pop’s voice broke the dam, “Pops, I screwed up.”
He didn’t interrupt while she told him about her meltdown on Santa’s lap.
“I want to… feel comfortable in my skin.” She hiccupped.
“First of all, you didn’t screw up. You had a moment of realness. Sweetheart, don’t worry about what your dad and I think, or anyone else, for that matter. Cut your hair, change your clothes, make whatever changes you want to make on the outside. As long as you make sure you’re making changes on the inside too, because those are the changes that really count.”
He was right. She knew he was right. Admitting it wasn’t the hard part. Getting over the fear of failing if she tried is what scared her. Her pop’s calm and wise advice helped center her.
Joy exhaled. “I love you, Pops.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. When you come home for Christmas, we’ll talk some more, okay?”
Joy hung up with her pops and restarted her morning routine. She studied her reflection while she put on her makeup, her eyeshadow brush hovering over her eyelid. Joy set the brush down. It wasn’t easy to break old habits. There wasn’t a shade on the enormous palette of colors that was going to magically transform her.
Determined, she swept her hair into a ponytail. From what she had left in her closet, Joy chose a pair of black pants and a deep plum–colored cashmere sweater. She wiggled her toes in the pair of black flats she chose over her usual heels.
Studying her reflection, Joy felt naked without her usual made-up face. “I can be confident without all the hair and makeup. It’s the changes on the inside that really count.” Joy repeated her Pop’s words, standing in front of the mirror. With a resigned sigh she gathered her things and left for work.
When she reached the hospital parking lot and shut off the engine, a wave of uncertainty hit her. Joy gripped the steering wheel, wondering if she’d made a mistake. She reached for the makeup bag she kept in the car. The oversize bag held as many products as what filled her bathroom countertop back home. She started digging through the contents, thinking maybe she’d add a little eyeshadow before she faced her patients and co-workers. She stopped as she grasped her eyeshadow palette.
“Change is scary, but you can do this,” she whispered to herself.
She put the eyeshadow back and closed the bag. Getting out of the car, she wrapped her coat around herself against the cold fall air. Heading inside the hospital, she flashed her badge and gave a brief wave to the security guard at the front desk. This wing of the hospital had an ocean theme, and the colorful murals of friendly smiling sea creatures always brought a smile to her lips. The scenery worked its magic, lifting her spirits the same way it worked on the children. Light filtered through the skylights, illuminating the colored glass of the enormous whale sculptures hanging above. Created by a local artist, the whales were fashioned in traditional Northwest Coast Native style, honoring the artist’s heritage and the community. Joy paused to look up at the grand sculpture and contemplate its name, Mystic Journey. The name matched her mood. She felt like she was taking the first steps on a journey to discover who she really was, and who she wanted to be.
She ducked her head and quickly made her way to her office when she noticed a few of her co-workers who had been at the Christmas party. They gathered in a small huddle at the end of the hallway whispering to each other with pointed looks in her direction. Thankfully she had enough administrative work that needed to be taken care of to allow Joy to hide at her workstation for the first couple of hours in her day, but eventually, she had to face the world and her co-workers. She wasn’t directly saving lives like the doctors and nurses she worked with, but as a patient care manager, she was responsible for making sure the lines of communication were open between her patients, their family, and the care team providing treatment. Joy brushed her fingers over the image she kept pinned over her desk. Anna had been her best friend on the pageant circuit. She continued to compete while she battled cancer. The hair extensions that were a part of pageant life became wigs when she lost her hair. The teenage girl in the image with her arm around Joy, grinning at the camera with a small crown tilted haphazardly on her head while Joy wore a huge flashier version of the same decoration on her head, would be gone a few weeks after the picture was taken. Anna wasn’t supposed to die; Joy had been positive she would recover. It had been devastating to find out that her friend knew the treatment wasn’t working and chose to spend her last days doing something that made her happy. It was because of Anna that Joy decided she wanted to work with oncology patients.
“Miss you,” Joy whispered to the picture with a small smile.
Straightening her shoulders, she gathered up her case files for the day and braced herself for more looks and whispers. Her co-worker Thanh enveloped her in a hug, crushing the files she held against her chest when she reached the nurses’ station.
“Please don’t say anything about yesterday,” Joy said when Thanh let go.
He studied her with his dark brown eyes. His skin still held a deep golden glow from the vacation to Greece with his husband they’d returned from. Joy looked down at his stoic oval face. It should be a crime for a man to have eyelashes that were as long as the ones she had to pay for to achieve the same effect.
He answered with a solemn nod. “Got it.”
Joy looked around her before leaning in to whisper, “Is everyone talking about last night?”
A group of doctors walked by, avoiding eye contact.
“Don’t mind them,” Thanh said.
“I should have called in sick.”
“First of all, you never call in sick. You always take your work seriously, and I know you. You would have spent the day feeling guilty for calling out. That would only make you feel worse. Better to face your embarrassing situations than run away from them. How many times have Holly and Nick gotten caught making out in the supply closet? And remember when I decided I wanted to be a blond?” Thanh rolled his eyes. “Never let me do that again.”
“Holly and Nick in the supply closet are kind of cute since that’s where they met, in a way. And”—she waggled her finger at Thanh—“everyone tries to go blond at least once in their life.” Her face fell. “But how many grown-ass women have an epic meltdown on Santa’s lap?”
“Fair point.”
“Thank God I’ll never have to see Jason Anderson again.”
Joy’s stomach clenched when Thanh chewed on his lip and his eyes fell to the floor.
“What?” she forced herself to ask, suspecting whatever she was about to hear wasn’t going to make her happy.
“He’s coming in today to play for the kids.”
She could manage the mix of pity and amused looks she was getting from her co-workers, but face Jason again? She brushed her fingers across her cheek. She wasn’t wearing any makeup. She couldn’t see Jason without her armor. Joy tugged at her ear, the one Jason whispered into the night before. Even in the middle of her meltdown, she felt safe in his arms. But Santa wasn’t real, and Christmas wishes were just that. Wishes. The only way she was going to get what she asked for is if she made her own dreams come true.
Joy backed away, shaking her head. “Nope, no way. This is not happening.”
She turned, planning to hide at her desk for the rest of the day, and bumped straight into Holly and Noelle.
“When were you going to tell me Santa—Jason was going to be here today?” she said in a furious whisper.
“I was on my way to find you,” Holly said.
“We wouldn’t let you get ambushed,” Noelle added.
Joy blew out a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. It’s so humiliating.”
Noelle put her arm around Joy’s shoulder. “Your Christmas sisters are here for you.”
It was a silly name they came up for themselves after a girls’ night out, where the three of them commiserated over having names associated with Christmas. They couldn’t be more different. Joy was the overconfident one. At least, she was until last night. Noelle, who the kids called Nurse Christmas, was more reserved and cautious. Noelle had undergone her own transformation in the last year since she started dating Hugh Donavan, one of the star players for Seattle’s MLS team, the Seattle Emeralds. Her friends smile was brighter now, and there was often a pink glow on her brown cheeks that could only be described as a glow of a woman in love. The same could be said for Holly. Her upbeat nature made it hard to be in a bad mood whenever she was around. And lately, she practically vibrated with positive energy since she started dating Hugh’s teammate and Jason Anderson’s younger brother, Nick. Besides their names, they also bonded as Black and bi-racial women. Seattle didn’t have a large Black population, and the staff at Children’s Hospital reflected the demographics of the city. It was nice to have a group of friends who could support each other and understood the challenges of being in the minority.
“Don’t forget me,” Thanh huffed. “I may not be a Christmas sister, but Milo and I are in your corner.”
Holly kissed Thanh on the cheek. “Aww, you’re an honorary Christmas sister.”
“You’re only saying that because I make the best bành bûche de Noël.”
Thanh’s pout brought a smile to Joy’s face. “You’re a great group of friends. Thank you.”
“Don’t worry,” Holly said. “By next Christmas, everything will be forgotten.”
Joy winced. “If I can have one wish come true this Christmas, it’s that I’ll never see him again.”