This Christmas (6 page)

Sarah gets home from work to find her machine blinking furiously. Caroline, Lisa, Nicole, and Cindy have all left messages, sheepishly admitting to hangovers but all saying they had the best time, and thanking Sarah for breaking the routine of the usual staid book club meetings.

And despite her own slight hangover, Sarah feels energized in a way she hasn’t in years. She feels younger, sexier, more sparkling. She looks in the mirror now and actually likes what she sees. She loves that both Maggie and Walker now tell her she looks pretty. She loves that she’s taking the time to put makeup on, that she read an article in a fashion magazine that was lying around at work that advised women to buy only what they completely love and what makes them feel beautiful, and to discard everything else.

Sarah came straight home after work, resolving to throw out anything she hadn’t worn in a year, anything that didn’t flatter, that didn’t suit. Walker was sent to Caroline’s for a play date and Maggie laughed delightedly as she played dress up in Sarah’s discarded pile.

The Prada jacket she used to wear all those years ago when she worked at the magazine but had never been able to get rid of because it was so expensive, now helplessly out of date, heads the pile. The fleeces and velour sweat suits, the stretch Gap pants that never flattered but were always comfortable, the chunky cotton cable sweaters that had long ago lost their shape but were easy to pull on first thing in the morning—all of them make their way into the discarded pile.

When Sarah finishes there isn’t an awful lot hanging in the wardrobe. The cargo pants she keeps, and a selection of T-shirts. A few sweaters, two classic white shirts, and three skirts.

The shoes are a disaster. The boiled wool clogs go, as do the Merrills, and even the Birkenstocks.
What was I thinking
? she mutters to herself as she buries them under the pile.

And her precious designer clothes that she had saved all these years from when she worked at the magazine are now so clearly outdated. She loved those Miu Miu shoes way back when, but sadly she realizes she can’t wear them now.

She checks her watch. An hour and a half to go before picking Walker up from Caroline’s. “Come on, Maggie,” she says, scooping her up and sweeping downstairs with her to wrap them both up in scarves and hats—the December weather has just started to bite. “We’re going shopping.”

No Talbots for Sarah today. No Gap. No Ann Taylor. She heads straight for the one designer store in town, a store she would once have felt so comfortable in, but hadn’t been inside for years, too intimidated by the perfect sales assistants, the overpriced clothes, the air of expensive glamour.

Sarah doesn’t remember the last time she went shopping for the sheer fun of it. She’s been used to buying clothes when she needs them, not because she wants them. And most of what used to hang in her wardrobe was from catalogs. Too busy to send anything back, if it didn’t quite fit right, or didn’t quite suit, she wore it anyway.

Now she’s buying because she wants to be beautiful. She’s buying because finally she’s able to pay for it with her own money. She’s buying to empower herself a little, to bring her exterior, her appearance, more in line with her changing interior.

An hour later she walks out of the store smiling to herself, her arms laden with bags, feeling much like the Julia Roberts character in
Pretty Woman
.

She bought sweaters in soft angora wool that make her feel like she’s wrapped in a blanket; slim-fitting bootleg pants that make her legs look endless; a chocolate brown quilted jacket with a fur collar that is both glamorous and practical; a black chiffon dress for the holidays; flat suede ballet slippers for every day; high-heeled pointed boots for going out.

Sarah hasn’t just spent this week’s salary; she’s spent the future month’s salary as well, but it’s been worth it. She feels beautiful in every item of clothing, and as she drives to Caroline’s house she finds herself wishing that Eddie could see her now.

Eddie walks home from the gym and smiles at the department store windows. He loves Christmas. Has always loved Christmas. When he was a little boy he used to wake up on Christmas morning at 4:00, and wake up his sister, who was always allowed to have a sleepover in his room on Christmas Eve, and they would both hurry downstairs to where the Christmas tree was blazing to rip open their presents.

The magic and possibility of Christmas have never left him. He loves putting the lights on the big white pine in their front yard, loves having the kids help him put the tinsel on the tree, loves going up to the attic to get the Christmas ornaments that belonged to his parents when he was small.

Now is about the time when he’d be taking the children out to the Christmas tree farm to pick the biggest tree that could fit in their hallway. Now is about the time Sarah would start shopping for their stockings, showing him the cute little presents she had bought, the Christmas-themed candies.

A heaviness weighs upon his heart as he looks through the window. He’s not sure he can face Christmas here in Chicago on his own. He can’t think of anything worse than a little tree in the tiny, cold apartment he could never think of as home.

I should be with my family
, Eddie thinks, as he looks through the window.
I
need
to be with my family
. And as he stands there missing Sarah, Walker, and Maggie, he realizes how insane it is that he has let so much slip away. Not just by being in Chicago, but by refusing to pin Sarah down to talk about their future, and by all the missed opportunities: by not being the husband and father he could have been.

Now it’s time, he realizes. Time to win them back. Time to show his family how much they mean to him. The vacation is finally coming to an end, and he pulls out his cell phone and dials a number.

“Can you tell me the availability of flights from Chicago to New York, December twenty-fourth?” And as he speaks the words he feels the cloud that has weighed so heavily upon him finally start to disperse.

“I totally forgot you were coming!” Sarah is shepherding Walker and Maggie into the car as a pickup truck pulls into the driveway.

“Oh, great,” Joe laughs as he gets out of the truck. “Nice to know I make a good impression.”

“I’m sorry. Life’s just been so crazy. Are you starting today?” Sarah watches as Joe starts unloading dust sheets from the car.

“Absolutely.” He grins. “I told you this would be the week.”

“The door’s open,” she says. “Will you be okay by yourself?”

“Sure.” He smiles and then winks. “I’m trustworthy. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Jennifer catches Sarah just before she leaves work. Sarah’s anxious to get home to see how the wall looks, and if she’s honest, to see whether Caroline was right, whether Joe might be attracted to her. Not that she’s interested. Absolutely not. But how flattering. What a pick-me-up.

“Wow! Look at
you!
”

Sarah grins. “I went shopping.”

“Clearly! I love it. Listen, I want to talk to you about a more permanent position in marketing and PR. You’ve been doing so much for us in that field recently and our membership is increasing as a result, and I know that you could do so much more. Can we meet tomorrow to talk about it?”

“That would be great.” Sarah resists the urge to throw her arms around Jennifer and hug her, and as she gathers her things and walks to her car, a huge grin spreads on her face.

“I’m back,” she says, as she climbs into her car. “Oh, baby, am I back!”

A cloud of dust greets her as Sarah opens the front door.

“Careful,” Joe shouts out as she steps gingerly over the threshold into the kitchen, where there is no longer a wall, and she gasps as she looks straight into her family room.

“Oh, my gosh, it’s amazing! I can’t believe the wall is gone! Look how huge it looks!”

Joe appears from behind the little bit of wall that is left, and Sarah immediately flushes. He’s shirtless. Gorgeous. And shirtless.

Good Lord
, she thinks.
There is a half-naked man standing in my kitchen
. And then:
A half-naked gorgeous man
. And then:
Shee-it. Look at that body!

But she can’t. She’s too flustered. She pretends to look for something in her bag as she starts backing out of the room. “I’m just going to make some calls in the office,” she says, praying for the flush to disappear. “Just call me if you need anything.”

“Wait.” Joe walks over and stops her by placing a hand on her arm. Sarah looks up into his eyes, which seem to be laughing at her. “I need you to show me where to Sheetrock, how much of the wall you want out here.” He gestures to the left side.

“Oh, um, whatever you think,” Sarah says, unable to stop focusing on the fact that there’s a half-naked man whom she’s incredibly attracted to standing inches away from her, and he has a six-pack—Jesus, who her age has a six-pack anymore?—and he has his hand on her arm and all she can think about is what it would be like to feel his chest, to run her fingers lightly over his muscles.

There is a brief silence and then Joe says quietly, “You know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but you look incredibly sexy today.”

And Sarah gasps. Shit. It’s all well and good having a fantasy, but fantasies are fun precisely because they
are
fantasies. She may think about schtupping George Clooney, but if he ever actually turned up on her doorstep she’d run a mile.

And she may be standing here thinking about running her fingers lightly over Joe’s muscles, but that’s not actually supposed to happen.

Oh, shit. Now what?

Sarah opens and closes her mouth at Joe in her best goldfish impersonation, and then she does something she knows she may regret for the rest of her life, but she can’t help herself.

She turns and runs.

“He what?” Caroline splutters, as she puts her cup down and gapes at Sarah over the kitchen table.

“I know!” Sarah says. “You were right!”

“I can’t believe he was that obvious! So what did you do?”

“I turned and ran.” And Sarah flushes again at the memory.

Caroline bursts into laughter.

“So where is he now?”

“Probably still figuring out where to put the Sheetrock up. Oh, God”—Sarah buries her face in her hands and groans—“I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe I just ran away. He is so gorgeous but this is ridiculous. I’m not going to start an affair with the contractor for heaven’s sake. I’m married! I don’t do this kind of thing. He probably does this with all the lonely housewives in town.”

Caroline nods. “I hate to agree but I think you’re probably right.”

Sarah looks at her with a frown. “You’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to say I’m special and different, and evidently he feels something very strong for me.”

“Evidently he
does
feel something very strong for you, but, honey, he’s way too confident for this to be a one-off.”

“I know. I think that’s what freaked me out. If he’d had a bit more humility, hell, I might have gone for it.”

“Really?” Caroline’s eyes are wide.

Sarah shrugs. “No. Probably not. But he seemed so sure that I was just going to sigh and fall into his arms. I know you’re right; he must do this with everyone.” There’s a silence, and then Sarah says quietly, “But am I still allowed to feel flattered?”

“Are you kidding? Of course! The man’s gorgeous, even if he is a sleaze, although you’re looking pretty gorgeous yourself these days.”

“You really think so?” Sarah’s eyes light up.

“Oh, come on. You’re like a different person. Eddie wouldn’t recognize you if he saw you now. Speaking of which,” Caroline continues in a more gentle tone, “I know you’ve been putting it off, but it’s nearly Christmas. Have you thought about what you’re going to do? Is he going to spend Christmas with the kids? At the very least, don’t you think it’s time you got together with him and talked?”

“You’re right.” Sarah nods slowly. “It’s time. I was so scared of being on my own, but you know what? I can do this. I’ve been happier these last couple of months than for the last six years. I feel stronger, more contented, just better. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss Eddie, but the truth is I miss having
someone
, although life on my own isn’t nearly as lonely as I thought it would be.”

Caroline’s eyes widen. “Wow. So this is it? I thought you were going to say you’d try again.”

“I can’t,” Sarah sighs. “Eddie isn’t who I want him to be, and I know how naïve it would be to expect him to change for me. You can’t change anyone—even I know that. I didn’t ever think I’d be getting divorced, but then I never knew how unhappy I was until I experienced the alternative. I guess I just kept hoping it was a phase and would pass. Well,” she attempts a bright smile, “the good news is it finally has.”

“Are you going to see a lawyer?”

“Just as soon as the holidays are over.”

“And what about Eddie and the children over the holidays?”

“We spoke yesterday. He said he wants to spend Christmas with them but he’s going to stay at the inn, not at home. I don’t want to spoil their Christmas. We’ll wait until after the holidays to tell them, and as hard as it’s going to be, we’ll put on a united front until then for the kids’ sake. It’s the right thing to do.”

“No, Walker, honey. I know you want that giant tree but Mommy can’t manage it by herself. We have to get something smaller.”

“But Daddy always gets the biggest one,” Walker whines, dragging his feet next to Maggie as they walk through the farm, Walker constantly pulling Maggie over to the giant trees while Sarah tries to direct them both to something far more manageable.

Sarah grits her teeth. “I know Daddy always gets the big ones, but small trees are way cooler.” Oh, God, Sarah shakes her head. How ridiculous that she’s speaking like a teenager in a bid to bond with her five-year-old. “You know why they’re cooler?”

“No. Why?” Walker asks reluctantly. He doesn’t buy it.

“Because you can reach the top and put the star on yourself.”

“But, Mom!” He doesn’t buy it. “Daddy always gets the ladder.”

“Walker, I’m running out of patience,” Sarah snaps. “We’re getting a small Christmas tree this year and that’s that.”

And Walker bursts into tears, followed by Maggie.

“Shhh, Shhh!” Sarah hisses, praying for them to stop, as people start giving them concerned looks. “Please, will you stop crying. Please. Walker, here, do you want a lollipop?” Sarah fumbles around in her bag for the sugar bribes she has taken to carrying.

“No!” Walker wails. “I want my daddy.”

Oh, God, Sarah thinks. Great. And the guilt starts kicking in.

“Okay, Walker,” she says. “Daddy will be here in a few days so, okay, we’ll get a big tree. Okay?” Walker’s wails turn into sniffles. “Okay?”

“Really big?” Walker says, as Maggie also stops crying.

Sarah sighs. “Whatever.” And Walker whoops with joy and runs off to the eight-foot-and-higher section.

They end up with a nine-foot tree. The men at the farm drag it out to the car and secure it onto the roof for them, and Sarah drives home listening to Walker and Maggie talking about Daddy decorating the tree when he gets home.

“Walker, sweetie,” Sarah says finally, “Daddy’s coming home on Christmas Eve, which is in a few days, and wouldn’t it be nice if he came home to a tree decorated by all of us? That would make him so happy. Why don’t we decorate the tree ourselves?”

“But Daddy loves decorating the tree,” Walker says. “He would be sad if we did it without him.”

Sarah thinks about Christmases past. And Walker’s right. Eddie does seem to come alive at Christmas, does love the traditions, does actually get off of the sofa and choose the tree, help decorate it, help stuff the stockings.

But that was then and this is now. As much as she’s determined not to ruin the holidays for the kids, Sarah also knows that they have to accept that some things have changed forever, and this is one of them.

“You remember when you spoke to Daddy yesterday?”

“Yes!” Maggie shouts out. “I love my daddy!”

“Yes, darling, I know. Well Daddy told me that he wanted us to decorate the tree because he said you were so good last year, Walk, that he wanted to see how you did it all by yourself.”

Walker’s eyes light up. “So all by myself? No grown-ups helping?”

“Well, no. He just meant you would be in charge.”

“Yay!” Walker shouts with a grin. “I’m gonna make an
awesome
tree for Daddy.”

Twenty minutes later Sarah phones Caroline.

“I feel really stupid but I need to borrow your husband.”

“Sure,” Caroline says. “Just as long as you don’t want to have sex with him. Actually, on second thought do have sex with him. It might take the pressure off me.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m standing outside my house feeling pathetic and hopeless but I’ve got a nine-foot Christmas tree on the roof of my car and I haven’t got a clue how to get the damn thing inside.”

“See? I told you men were good for something.” Caroline chuckles. “I’ll send him over right away.”

By the time Louis has come over and enlisted the help of Sarah plus three neighbors to get the tree off the car and in the house, Sarah is exhausted, not to mention the kids.

“Who wants to make hot chocolate?” Sarah asks as everyone leaves.

“Me! Me!” A chorus of two little voices.

Walker breaks the chocolate into the pot, Maggie stirs as Sarah holds her, careful not to burn them, and both of them drop the marshmallows into the cups.

“Mommy?” Maggie sidles up to her and rubs her cheek on Sarah’s leg as Sarah places the three mugs on the table.

“Yes, sweetie?” Sarah reaches down and strokes Maggie’s hair.

“You the best mommy,” Maggie says, as she flings her arms around Sarah’s leg. “And I a mommy’s girl.”

“No.” Walker jumps off the stool and comes over, trying to shove Maggie out of the way. “I’m a mama’s boy; you’re not a mommy’s girl.”

“I am,” Maggie starts to wail, as Sarah crouches down and takes them both in her arms, squeezing them hard. “You’re both my best boy and girl and I love you. Do you know how much I love you?”

“Yes,” Walker says and nods. “To infinity and beyond.”

“Exactly,” she says. “To infinity and beyond. And that’s about as much as anyone can ever love anyone else.”

“Mommy?” Walker says, after a few sips of hot chocolate. “After this can we go see Santa at the mall?”

Sarah thinks about everything she has to do today. About how she was planning to stick the kids in front of a movie while she vacuumed the house and did some laundry. And it’s nearly Christmas. And it’s Saturday. The mall will be a zoo. She looks at her children’s faces and sees them looking expectantly at her.

“Okay,” she says. “When we’ve finished we can go see Santa at the mall.”

Maggie sits back in her chair and pushes her full mug of hot chocolate away. “I’m all done, Mom,” she says, as she climbs off her chair.

There’s a forty-five-minute wait to see Santa.

“Good Lord, I hope this is worth it,” Sarah mutters to the woman who joined the end of the line just in front of her.

“If it keeps them happy and quiet then it’s worth it.” The woman gives her a smile and they both laugh.

“I hope it’s good this year,” Sarah says, again, as always, impressed at the huge tree trunk flanked by two elves and a sleigh. Twinkling lights surround the arched entrance into the tree, and Sarah knows from past experience there will be storybook dioramas on the way to see Santa, actors and actresses playing the characters. Last year it was
Beauty and the Beast
, which was magical, but the year before was a very disappointing
Cinderella
.

“I heard it’s
Peter Pan
,” the woman says.

“Tinkerbell!” Maggie pipes up, hearing Peter Pan.

“Wouldn’t that be fun?” Sarah says to Maggie, scooping her up and giving her a kiss.

“Just as long as the Captain Hook isn’t scary.” The woman’s husband turns. “When our son watched the movie he didn’t sleep for about six months.”

“I did too!” An indignant six-year-old glares at his dad. “I wasn’t scared.”

For a split second Sarah watches the family standing in line in front of her and feels a pang. She misses being part of a family. Misses having a husband to come with, to help out. But even when she had a husband he never did this. Sure he loved Christmas, but he was never around to take the kids to see Santa. Sure, he was willing to look at the gifts she bought, but he was never available to actually come shopping with her and choose them with her.

Stop it
, she tells herself.
I’m missing something I never had. Something I could never have had with Eddie. It’s time to move on. Stop thinking about a past that never was
.

“Did you see Tinkerbell?” Santa says to Maggie as she perches on his knee with wide eyes and a shy smile. Maggie nods.

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

Maggie nods again.

“And what did you think of Peter Pan?” Santa turns to Walker, perched on his other knee. “Did you see him fly?”

Walker nods. His five-year-old confidence has completely disappeared in the face of the real-life Santa Claus.

“But are you sure he’s the real one?” Walker had whispered earlier as they rounded a corner and saw a glimpse of Santa sitting behind a sparkly curtain.

“Absolutely.” Sarah had nodded seriously. “There’s only one Santa and this is it.”

“But what about the one at the grocery store?” Walker had said after a moment’s thought.

Sarah had frowned. The one at the grocery store had been rubbish. A cheap polyester suit and a very fake beard. When they’d got up close Sarah had discovered that Santa at the grocery store also happened to be a cross-dresser, which was disappointing, to say the least.

“Mom?” Walker had asked as they left. “Is Santa a lady?”

“Not usually,” Sarah had said. “But that’s not the real Santa. That’s just someone pretending.”

“Ho, Ho, Ho.” Santa—today’s more realistic Santa—beams. “So, Walker and Maggie, have you been good this year?”

They nod.

“I heard you had been. My elves told me you deserved really good gifts this year. What would you most like for Christmas?”

In the silence that follows Sarah has a jolt of realization.
Oh, God
, she thinks.
I know this is going to turn into a Lifetime movie. Please don’t say it
, she prays.
Please don’t say I want my daddy home
.

She holds her breath as Walker struggles to think of what he most wants before turning to Santa.

“I want…” Another pause. “I want the really cool robots from the movie that really walk and talk and do stuff like this.” And he gives an impromptu demonstration, which seems to give Maggie the confidence she has been missing.

“And I want a Barbie jeep,” Maggie announces.

“And can I have a jeep as well?” Walker says. “But a cool army one, not a Barbie one because Barbie is for girls, but my sister can have a pink one.”

“Ho, Ho, Ho,” Santa says. “You only get one gift for Christmas but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Santa,” Walker pauses and looks at Santa seriously, “actually what I’d really like is a light saber.”

“Okay,” Santa says. “Thanks for telling me.” And he looks at Sarah and winks. Sarah gathers up the children and whispers a thank you to Santa. “And thank God for good old American consumerism,” she mutters to herself on the way out.

“I am acting like a teenager,” Sarah says to Caroline on the phone.

“Not for the first time recently.” Caroline laughs. “Not that I’m going to be the one to remind you of how you blushed and ran away when Joe the sexy contractor made a pass at you.”

“He did not make a pass at me.” Sarah groans. “And anyway, we’re not supposed to talk about that anymore.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist.”

Joe hadn’t shown up again. He was not used to being rejected by the lonely housewives he so often worked for and ended up in bed with, and had not come back to finish the job. Sarah was part furious and part relieved. She was mortified at her behavior, relieved she hadn’t paid him, and even more relieved to find she had been put off completely by his overt advance and hadn’t spent any more time fantasizing about his six-pack stomach. Nope. She’d been put off entirely and now was simply irritated that she had to find someone else to finish the job.

In the end it had been done by a handyman, and although the sheetrock wasn’t as smooth as it could have been, at least her kitchen didn’t resemble a construction site, and at least the handyman in question had been in his early sixties, and not the slightest bit interested in Sarah.

“But I am regressing,” Sarah insists. “I can’t believe I’m pretending to have a party tonight so when Eddie arrives he can see me all dressed up. I feel so bitchy, I just want to show him what he’s missing.”

“Well, it is kind of bitchy but also normal human behavior. It’s that I may not want you but I still want you to want me thing. And anyway, look how awesome you look; of course you want him to see.”

“So you’re sure Louis won’t think I’m weird coming over to your house for dinner wearing a black cocktail dress?”

“Weird? He’ll think it’s his lucky night.”