Christmas Past, Christmas Present Ch. 01

The wine was good, so she indulged in it, drinking it all too quickly. It was, she suddenly realized, the first alcohol she'd had since that night seven years before. Looking back at the bar, she waited until Frank and Billy were gone, wiped her tears, and then made her way back up for another, this time choosing a martini. Thanks to a kindly teetotaler couple, she came away with more drink tickets, allowing her to return to the bar again and again...and again.

It was about that time that she saw a man enter the ballroom through the door on the far side. There'd been a number of people going in and out, with some drawing her eye for a moment, but something about him attracted her attention. She watched as he stopped, seemingly surveying the room, before looking her way, locking his eyes on her. There was something familiar about the man, but she couldn't see well enough through the lighting and the alcohol, so, when he turned toward the bar, she went back to her drink. She still had one more ticket left—or was it two?—from the nice couple, so she decided to go back and get another drink after this one was gone. Her thoughts wandered.

A voice interrupted her ruminations, causing her to look up, seeing the man from minutes earlier standing a respectable distance back. "Excuse me, Miss, are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help you?"

When she focused on his face, Paula's eyes widened in shock, fear even, and her mouth dropped open before she gulped out, "Jean-Louis?"

"No, sorry. My name's Bruce."

***

She shook her head as if in denial, staring at him, studying his face as she continued to fight off tears. While she'd had more to drink than she'd had since her early college days when she still needed a fake ID, she continued staring at him, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Are you okay?" he asked again, looking at her as if wondering whether he could trust whatever response she might give him.

Several seconds passed, with Paula turning, slowly switching her perspective from side to side, as she stared at the man. Eventually, she said, "I know you're not, but you look...well...almost exactly like my late husband. At first glance, I could have sworn you were Jean-Louis, but I must admit, you don't sound much like him."

Bruce studied her face for a second in return, before asking, "Jean-Louis? Was he Cajun? Or possibly French?"

"No, up north. He was Québécois...from Quebec."

Bruce nodded. Faking a horribly overblown southern accent that rivaled Liz's, he added, "A Quebecer to us suthe'n, 'merican-speakin' guys."

That, combined with the alcohol, led Paula to give a little giggle. She wiped her eyes again before saying, "You may be from the south, but I doubt you're from that far south."

They chuckled together as he agreed, "Yeah, you're right."

"Do you, ah, know Kuhbec?" she asked, deliberately using the French-Canadian pronunciation.

"Some...but it's been a good while since I've been there. Used to know some French, too, but don't get to use it much anymore. What about you?"

That got a little smile. "Pennsylvania girl here, from near Pittsburgh, but I married Jean-Louis in college and we lived in Montreal for about sixteen years after graduation. I'm fluent in French, even if my accent sounds a bit funny to the natives."

She trailed off, the alcohol weighing heavily on her, but she was glad the tears had stopped with Bruce's attention. "Thanks for asking about me."

"You're welcome," he replied, "but you never did answer the question. Are you okay?

She sniffled and wiped her nose with a tissue. "No, not really, but it was nice of you to ask."

"You want to talk about it?"

She continued looking at him, studying his face, while she thought before finally saying. "You know, you really do look so much like Jean-Louis. It's been almost seven years...in just a few days...so maybe my memory has faded a little, but I'd like to think not." She gave a loose wave to the seat next to her. "Have a seat, but only if you promise: no more bad Southern accents. I think I've hit my limit on them for the evening."

He chuckled. "Deal. Like I said, I'm Bruce." He extended a hand and they did a polite shake. His grip was firm and steady, while hers, she guessed, was barely there.

"Nice to meet you, Bruce. I'm Paula. I really do appreciate you asking about me. I came here to let loose a bit and have a good time, but it's been pretty sad so far, with my tears probably keeping most everyone away."

"It's nice to meet you, too," he said. "I'm sorry for your loss and for what you're going through. You said it's been a good while since Jean-Louis passed away? Is it that anniversary that's, ahem, affecting you like this?"

"Partly. He...he passed away seven years ago this coming week and our wedding anniversary is the day after Christmas; we did it then because our families were together...and," she whispered, "because of a positive pregnancy test. I've been trying for the past few years, but I've had a dickens of a time moving on."

"I'm sorry. Seven years, though, is a long time."

She glared at him, still seeing Jean-Louis' near twin in front of her, but now seeing concern on his face rather than malice in his words. "Thanks, Bruce. I've been trying to get past him, to just let him be a much-loved, tender memory, for quite a while, but...but..." Tears started flowing again.

"Please, don't cry," he said as he touched her hand. As he did, it was like a shock surging through her body, leading her to pull back abruptly.

When she realized what she'd done, she exclaimed, "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to act like that. It just surprised me."

"No, don't be sorry. It was my fault. I didn't mean to be so familiar with you."

Paula reached over, rather uncertainly, and took Bruce's hand. "It's okay, but I really should explain. It feels like I'm betraying Jean-Louis if I even start to think of someone new, much less touching them like that."

"I understand; that can be a problem. It takes a while to move past the unexpected loss of a loved one, but you do know you don't need to feel like you're on a schedule, right? For some people, maybe it's a few months to get over such a loss, but for others, it can be a long time, maybe even, we'll, seven years?"

The quizzical look on his face caused her to give a little smile. "Oh, I know...but when you reach the point where you finally accept it but then find yourself still unable to act on it...well, that's when it gets to be a problem." She turned staring into her glass before taking a sip.

He nodded as if understanding. "Yeah, I sort of had that issue getting past someone once, too. Truth is, deep down, I still love her, but I finally had to accept that we'd never be together again, that I had to move forward, like you said. Sounds like I was a lot like you. The time between accepting and moving forward..."

He stretched his hands apart, leading Paula to giggle and nod before wiping her eyes.

"Yep, that's me. I don't deal well with loneliness. I always had to have a boyfriend—or at least, thought I had to—then a fiancé for a few months—that didn't work out, fortunately—and finally Jean-Louis for nineteen years, including almost seventeen of them married, so—"

There was a slight slur to some of her words, and, when she paused, she slumped down in the seat, as the weight of it bore back down on her. "—it's...it's been really tough...."

Bruce reached across and took her hand again, this time giving it a gentle squeeze. "Paula, that sounds surprisingly familiar. I guess that begs the question: what are you going to do about it?"

His question stung her. She frowned at him for being so blunt but then continued looking at him when she saw what looked like concern on his face and felt the warm, comforting feeling of his hand on hers.

"Bruce, you don't know me. Why are you trying to help me?" She stared at him, as if daring him to answer.

His head cocked slightly and he gave her a compassionate look, scrunching his mouth slightly in the same manner that Jean-Louis used to do. Seeing it, she leaned closer and traced a finger down his cheek and around his chin before her eyes widened, realizing what she was doing, as she suddenly drew back.

"Bruce, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—you just looked so much like Jean-Louis just then, it was as if I was with him for a moment. I swear, you really could be his twin."

With that compassionate, understanding look still there, he shook his head slowly. "I can assure you, I was an only child. As for why I'm here, I can see you're unhappy; it's written all over your face and in the way you're holding that glass. I'd like to do what I can to help."

She pondered what he said for a few moments before nodding, accepting, at least to some degree. Looking down at her glass, she said, "Wanna' get me another one of these? Vodka martini, two olives."

"Are you sure? I heard they gave everyone two drink tickets."

"But soft drinks are free. An older couple, the Kowalskis gave me their tickets since they don't drink." When he didn't show recognition at the name, she continued, "Krowalskis? Well, something-skis, I think...." Fumbling with her clutch purse, she pulled out her last remaining ticket and pushed it toward him.

"Paula, I don't think...well, I'll be right back, okay? You stay right here."

As she watched him go, thinking how much he was like her late husband, Mister Riley, the company's CEO came on the loudspeaker, encouraging everyone to have a seat. "We're going to have a holiday-inspired introduction in a few moments and then dinner will be served. Please, everyone, make your way to your seats."

Paula considered trying to get up to go find her table, but she felt a little unsteady so she closed her eyes for a moment. She looked up moments later on hearing singing, a goofy holiday song sung rather poorly but with great enthusiasm by the hotties from Marketing. The brunette, holding little antlers on her head, pranced around the stage like a dancing reindeer, but the buxom blonde stole the show. Strutting after the brunette, she spun the ball on her Santa hat with gusto as if it was feather boa in dance revue, which drew most of the eyes in the room to the rather spectacular oscillations on her chest.

Realizing that she was staring, too, Paula looked away only to see Bruce approaching with her drink. Seeing it, she was disappointed since it wasn't what she was expecting.

"Bruce, I wanted another martini," she pouted, but he shook his head in reply.

"Got there too late; they'd just stopped serving alcohol, so I got you a Dr. Pepper. Hope that's okay."

"Dr. Pepper? How'd you know? That's my favorite," she said, taking it and taking a sip. "Do you want to go find your seat? They're about to start serving dinner if everyone can pull their tongues back in after that performance. I'm not really hungry so I'll be fine right here."

"I'll stay here with you, if that's okay?"

"Are you sure? Thank you." She took his hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze, before taking another sip of her cola.

"Paula, talk to me, please. You said you have a problem, but tell me, what are you going to do about it?"

"It doesn't matter, does it?"

"Yeah, if it's going to make you feel better, I think it does."

She looked into his eyes, those same dark green pools she'd stared into so many times before, before she remembered that they really weren't the same at all. Glancing away, she nodded with a pained expression as she thought back, seemingly battling her way through the alcohol-induced haze to her memories. When she spoke again, her voice was low, barely audible above the noise in the ballroom.

"It was so unexpected. You think you have control over your life, but life itself has a curious way of reminding you how fragile things really are, like a house of cards that will collapse at the slightest bump. Bump!" She flicked a finger at an imaginary card and slammed her hand down on the table. Bruce, surprised, started in his seat and she giggled at his reaction, failing to see several people at the back tables who looked back their way. "See? You're never completely in control, even when you think you are."

He nodded in reply, leading to a little smile, but her amusement was short-lived. She sighed, as if trying to force herself to go on.

"Jean-Louis and I had a fight that evening before the company Christmas party. Our anniversary was coming up in just a few days, so he was trying to do something sweet for me—he wanted to get me a bigger diamond for my ring. He was in grad school and I had one semester to go to get my undergraduate degree when we had an 'Oops!' and I got pregnant with our son."

"That's not such a big deal these days," replied Bruce.

"It would have been to my parents, God rest their souls, and probably his, too. We didn't have much money but we got engaged as a formality for them, his and mine—we told them we'd been engaged for quite a while," she added with a giggle. "The diamond was tiny, but it was mine and Jean-Louis gave it to me so I loved it."

Bruce smiled encouragingly, so Paula continued. "We married just a few days later, but Jean-Louis always talked about when times were better, he was going to get me a ring like I deserved. Well, times weren't better when he pulled out that monster, 1.2 carats, and I freaked out. We were so far in debt and didn't have the money, but he said he'd gotten a bonus and figured we'd be able to afford it. I handled the bills so I knew better; I told him I didn't want it and that I liked my ring, but he was, I don't know, too insistent? We went to the party mad at each other rather than being happy like we'd planned. I was fuming that he'd do this to us, and he wasn't too happy with me for refusing to indulge him. That led to the party being a complete bust, so we left early, still not speaking to each other...except when we had to put on a front for others at the party."

Paula hung her head, embarrassed, but she went on a few seconds later. "We both needed to get past it and sex was our cure. It always had been, with some of our best times ever being when we were mad at each other, but not too mad. This was probably the angriest we'd ever been and went at each other like lions. Or maybe bunny rabbits? I hate to say it but it was probably the best sex of our lives. When we were done, I thought he was going to join me in the jacuzzi tub, but when he didn't come in, I peeked out and saw him in bed, just lying there. I thought he was sulking because he knew I was right, so I let him be...."

The tears were streaming down her face. "When I came back out, he hadn't moved. I thought he was being silly and was going to pounce on me, to do me again, but when I touched him, he didn't move. He was already dead and all the CPR I tried was too late."

"What happened? Heart attack?"

"Yeah, a massive one due to a heart defect we didn't even know he had. The autopsy said he'd probably had a first attack or two earlier that day, but he was only 40 and thought it was a pulled muscle in his back so he didn't go to the emergency room. The doctor said it feels like that to some people, and Jean-Louis was strong. He was training for a marathon, for Christ's sake, so I didn't dream of it and he either didn't or he was in denial about how bad—"

"Excuse me," said the server. "Are you folks eating? If so, I need to ask you to move to one of the seating tables up front. We need this table for serving. We can have someone help you find your places."

Paula waved her hand. "Not for me thanks. Bruce, really, you go ahead, I don't wanna' keep you—"

"I'm fine, too," he said to the server. "We'll move out of your way in a moment." He gave a little nod to the side and the woman took the hint and moved on, allowing him to turn his attention back to Paula.

Tears were flowing again, so he took her hand again, giving her a gentle squeeze. She looked back at him, and forced an appreciative smile before she struggled on. "It was my fault. If I'd only stayed with him or made him come in with me...either way, I could have called 911 and given him CPR, which might have at least given him a chance. Instead..."

"What?"

"I was selfish and took care of myself. With the tub's motor and jets going, he may have called out, but I didn't hear him. I let him die."

She leaned into him in her seat, so he put his arms around her, giving a nod to a few people near the rear who'd once again turned back on hearing her last words.

Seeing the waitress looking their way again, Bruce said, "Paula, let's move out to the lobby, okay?"

She didn't resist, so he picked up her purse and helped her out of the room with a nod to the server. He found a settee sofa just outside the ballroom.

"Here, have a seat. Paula, it doesn't sound like either of you did anything wrong. Little disagreements like that are just part of being married. You know that; you said you were married for a long time. As for being responsible? I would think that he had that heart defect long before he married you, so I don't see how you can blame yourself for it. It was there, just waiting for the right—or maybe, wrong?—time. It happened but there's nothing you can do about it now, so you need to let it go."

"That's just it, we were still in the middle of our spat, and I never told him how much I loved him...or goodbye...or anything."

Her tears started again, so Bruce reached around her once more, pulling her against him, giving her a gentle squeeze. "Paula, I'm sure he knew you loved him. I'd bet anything that you'd told him that any number of times in your years together and that he'd done the same with you, probably even earlier that day. He knew you still loved him and that your love hadn't faded since the last time you two said it, however many minutes or hours or even days it had been. Right?"

She pondered his comment as she looked down at the patterned carpet on the floor in front of them. "You're right. I know you are, but I've felt guilty ever since it happened, so I can't help myself. I still feel horrible about it and miss him every day, but, at the same time, there's something else."

"What is it?" he asked.

"I want to move on and live life again. I want to find someone new to have and hold and all that, but every time I decide to try, I start thinking about him, our time together, and what I did, and I start feeling so guilty and chicken out once again."

Bruce gently turned her face toward him and looked into her eyes. "Paula, sometimes you just have to take a deep breath and make that leap, knowing it will all work out." .

Paula looked up at him. "That's what tonight is...was. Judy's spending a night at a friend's, so I figured I'd come to this party, get a little tipsy, and get picked up by a nice guy who'd...take me home. I had two I thought would fit the bill. Surely one of them? But, no, my ducks and fucks weren't lined up quite like I thought..." She sank against him once more, using him to hold herself up.

"But wait. What if your plan had worked?" he asked. "What if you'd woken up in the morning in your bed or maybe even a different bed with a strange man and you realized what you'd done? How would you feel then?"

Paula looked back at Bruce. "I...I really don't know how I'd have felt, but it would have been too late by then to worry about it, wouldn't it? If I kept myself from chickening out, I think, maybe, I'd feel a little freer after that first time. Maybe I'd even be able to move on and actually have a future instead of feeling like I'm tied down, chained to the past." She seemed lost in thoughts of that by-gone time, so Bruce was silent, holding her while she took comfort in his body and his arm around her. "I think I need another drink. Wanna' take me somewhere? Bet this hotel has a bar, somewhere around here?"