Not Another Christmas Movie

No, wait. Not wonder. Tears.

I blinked rapidly, refusing to cry as the joy started crashing down inside me. I fought the echo of Frank's voice in my head, a voice that was somehow louder than the music blasting from the speakers. Biting my lip, I got a hold of myself just as Cole came around to my side of the car.

He took one look at my face and his smile faded. "We can leave."

I shook my head. "No, this is fine."

"It's not. You're clearly not fine."

"I'm fine, Cole," I snapped. "Let's get some fucking hot chocolate."

He looked alarmed, but I pushed past him and started towards the wooden booth. New traditions, new memories, I told myself. Frank would have never come with me to a place like this. He never even came with me to get a Christmas tree.

Cole caught up with me as I walked. I slowed my pace as he fell in step next to me.

"Are you—"

"Don't," I interrupted. "You were right. I can't let my shithead ex ruin this forever. We're here, I want some hot chocolate, and I need to take the plunge to get past my issues with this." My face burned as I spoke, and I couldn't look at him. "It's a lot easier with you here. Please help me."

I don't know what Cole was thinking, or what his face looked like, or if he was smiling or concerned or what. It didn't matter. The next thing I knew, his hand was in mine, enveloping my fingers in a warm embrace.

Neither of us addressed it. We didn't talk about it, didn't comment on the new development. My heart fluttered as he touched me, and then it just was.

When we got to the little wooden booth, the lady serving hot chocolate smiled at us.

"Merry Christmas, folks! We have regular and peppermint tonight."

"Peppermint, please," I said.

"Make it two," added Cole.

He let go of my hand just long enough to grab his wallet, but I stopped him.

"My turn," I said, and paid the lady.

He didn't argue, just put his wallet away. Once she handed us each a steaming cup of hot chocolate, he took my hand again, and we wandered away from the booth.

People passed by, parents chasing their kids and families rushing to be next in line for the hayride. They dodged around Cole and me as we walked, sipping our drinks, not saying anything. The chill of the air, the music, the smells, and sounds and lights... it all felt right. His hand in mine felt right, and it was invigorating and terrifying all at once.

"Still doing all right?" he asked softly.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

"We can go whenever you want."

"Thanks." I glanced across the lot. "Can we go look at trees?"

"Of course. Do you want one?"

"No. I just want to look at them."

There were rows upon rows of trees. Near the front were the little ones, apartment-sized trees that would have fit in my tiny living room nicely. Slightly taller ones, all full and lush. Towards the back were monster trees, the kind that would need a flatbed truck to haul home. We strolled through all of them, hand in hand, sipping peppermint hot chocolate as the fresh scent of pine surrounded us.

We were in the last row, surrounded by trees at least ten feet tall, when I finished my last sip of hot chocolate.

"Want to get going?" asked Cole.

"Yeah, I think so."

He took the empty cup from me and nested it in his. "Thanks for the hot chocolate."

"Thanks for bringing me here."

There was a moment, a Hallmark movie moment. Cole was facing me. There was no one else in that row of trees. It was just us, surrounded by gigantic pines. Even the music from the speakers seemed quieter. The only way it would be more cinematic would be if large, soft snowflakes started falling.

The sincere, kind-hearted, handsome male love interest looked down at me, the Grinchy female lead whose heart was in the process of repairing. I tilted my head up to meet his eyes. We gazed at each other, both nervous, both wanting what came next but scared of moving first.

I was going to do it, I decided. I was going to kiss him. I stepped forward just slightly, raising my hand with the intent of touching his cheek, finally touching that scar of his, and Cole reached for me and—

"You folks need a hand?"

I jumped back as the man selling the trees popped his head out at the end of the row.

"No, just looking," I said.

"Let me know if you need help lifting anything," he said. "We've got lots of trees left. The perfect one for you is in here somewhere."

I smiled politely. "Thanks."

And that was it. No more moment.

Cole cleared his throat. "We should get going."

"Yep. Yeah. Good idea."

We started walking, hands kept firmly to ourselves. The Christmas-filled world of the tree lot returned brashly as we made our way down the main aisle towards the exit, and if it wasn't for the fact I had been determinedly staring away from Cole, I wouldn't have seen them.

A small section, just behind the register. The trees in that little section were as ugly as a tree could be. Stunted, short, with branches sticking out in all directions. Most of them were rather spindly, missing branches, bowed and bent in the most natural of unnatural ways.

Above them was a hand-painted sign.

Charlie Brown Specials $14

I stopped in my tracks and burst out laughing.

Cole was a few steps ahead of me and turned, a half-smile creeping across his face as he watched me double over with laughter.

"What's so funny?"

I pointed, almost in tears. "I need one. The trees over there. I need to bring one home."

I picked the most pathetic-looking tree I could find. It was barely three feet tall, twisted and gnarly, and looked as though it might collapse at the very idea of having an ornament hung on it. Luckily, I only had one ornament.

Year after year in my previous life, I had searched for the biggest, lushest, most beautiful Christmas tree possible. I had turned down trees for having a branch in slightly the wrong place, or not being quite tall enough to fit in with my vision. And as stupid as it was, I felt a kinship with that ugly-ass tree. It was broken, twisted, not quite right. But it was still there. And I was going to take care of it.

I paid for the tree and Cole loaded it into the car.

"I have to ask," he said as we bumped down the gravel road.

I knew what he was going to say. "I have no idea. I just saw that sign and those poor trees and I just... I had to have it."

He laughed. "Do you need decorations for it? We can stop somewhere."

"I have one."

"One decoration?"

"Come on, Cole. Do you really think it could handle more than one decoration?"

He grinned. "Maybe it would surprise you with how much it can handle."

"Maybe," I conceded. "But I really just needed a place to put the one decoration."

"Well, you have two decorations."

"No, just one."

"Two, if you still have the one Santa left you at the beginning of the month."

I chuckled dryly. "Yeah, I have it. Which is a total of one."

"Oh." We were both quiet for a moment before Cole spoke up again. "Can I ask something else?"

"Sure."

"When we were standing in the row of trees, just before the owner asked if we needed help..."

And of course, at that exact moment, my cell phone rang.

I was both grateful and annoyed, but decided I was thankful for the distraction. I knew where Cole was heading with his question, but emotionally, I was already exhausted. Between the stress of the day, the worrying about apologizing, the "will-they-won't-they" of the evening, and coming to terms with my Christmas baggage, I was just about spent.

"Sorry, I have to take this," I said, grabbing my phone.

"Nicki? Hey, it's Marcus," said the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Marcus?" I didn't know a Marcus.

"Yeah, Marcus from Legal, with the firm? Angela gave me this number, said you were the PR consultant?"

"Oh, right. Sorry, I... yes, what can I do for you, Marcus?"

Well, it turned out that Marcus was a bit of a moron. I closed my eyes as he tried to describe what he needed, finally spitting out that the executive with the DUI had withheld some information regarding his indiscretion the night before. Specifically, he had withheld the reason he was meeting with a client so late, why he had been drinking so much, and what the client's husband had discovered upon his return to the house. The husband was not especially happy with the "full service" package our executive had provided to his wife, and was now threatening to sue in addition to the DUI.

"You know what, this will be a lot easier if I just come in," I said, cutting off Marcus as he barraged me with questions. "Does this have to be tonight or... okay, no, that's fine. I can be there in about a half hour... No, unless you want another PR disaster because you asked an employee to speed in order to get there faster, a half hour's the earliest I can do... Great, glad we have an understanding."

I hung up the phone and turned to Cole.

"Your company has executives with the intelligence of an inbred turkey. The collective intelligence of one single inbred turkey."

He burst out laughing. "So I need to bring you back to the office?"

"Please, if you don't mind. Oh, fuck. Except I have the tree."

"I can bring it by your place. Do you have a spare key or something?"

"It's all door codes to get in. I can't put you out like that, though. If you bring me home I'll just walk to the office after."

Cole shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Text me the codes, I'll drop you off at the office and bring the tree to your place. It's not a problem at all."

It was a problem, in that it meant that my evening with Cole was coming to an end, but I didn't say that. On the bright side, it meant that I finally had Cole's number and hadn't needed to go through any awkward rambling to request it.

He brought me to the office, where I was immediately immersed in a sea of chaotic panic. Legal clung to me like I was a life preserver, and I was tasked with calming their incessant whining. It took a couple of hours, but we managed to handle the PR side of things. As for the lawsuit, well, that was Legal's problem.

When I finally managed to extract myself from the tornado of panic and leave, I checked my phone. Cole had texted shortly after he'd left me at the office.

Dropped the tree off, heading out now. Hope everything's all right. Let me know if you want a ride home when you're done.

I bit my lip, trying not to smile. He had just been to my place, he was well aware that it was just a couple of blocks away from the office.

All done. Just walking home, I'm almost there. But thank you for the offer.

As much as I wanted to take Cole up on the offer, just so we could continue, I was mentally done. All I wanted to do was go home, maybe have a glass of wine, and stare at my stupid little ugly tree.

That evening had been more like a Hallmark movie than any other evening in my life. Had the movie version of my life continued, I would have opened my apartment door to a winter wonderland.

Decorations would be everywhere, and it would smell like peppermint hot chocolate. The Charlie Brown tree would be set up in the corner, my single ornament hanging off it. I would be astounded, my eyes wide as I took in the setup.

"Cole?" I would call out, but he wouldn't be there. The viewer would watch as my face flashed emotion after emotion. Astonishment, followed by confusion, followed by a flash of anger, then sadness. My breathing would quicken, and a tear would fall down my cheek.

Another would follow it, and then I'd be full-on crying, walking around the apartment as I pulled decorations down. Moments later, the apartment door would open and Cole would walk through holding a brown paper shopping bag.

"Nicki?" he'd say.

"Oh, Cole," I'd sob. "I can't accept this. You shouldn't have bought me these things. This is too much. Please, take them back."

"Calm down, calm down." He'd put the bag on the kitchen table and rush to me, embracing me while I clutched decorations to my chest and cried. "I didn't buy all this. It's just things I had from my own place."

I'd sniffle and he'd let me go. "Why are you doing all this for me?"

"You don't know?" he'd say. Then, he'd pick up the bag he put on the table. "I lied. I did buy one thing for you."

He would pass me the bag, and I'd open it. Inside, for some reason, would be the town Christmas tree from the Christmas village I had destroyed.

"I saw it and thought of you," he would explain, even though I had never told him about the Christmas village.

"Oh, Cole," I would cry, because even though I'd been a bad-ass cynical bitch for most of the movie, I would suddenly be a highly emotional and tenderhearted damsel. I wouldn't find it creepy at all that he had decorated my home without my permission, because somehow that single evening of handling my baggage would have cured me permanently. "Cole, I love it. I love you."

"That's all I wanted for Christmas," he would quip, and then we would kiss. Cue jingly music, cue fade to black, cue imaginary scene with us fucking on the couch beside the ugly-ass Christmas tree.

In actuality, when I got to my apartment, the tree was leaning against the wall in my hallway. Cole probably hadn't gone more than two feet in my apartment, because he was a respectful and decent guy. I was thankful for that, seeing as there were dirty dishes all over the kitchen and a load of laundry piled in the armchair.

I set the tree up in the corner of the living room, and dug through the junk piled on my counter until I found the little red box Cole had put on my desk. I took out the ornament and hung it from the sturdiest-looking branch, which still dipped threateningly under its weight.

New traditions, new memories.

I didn't have Christmas pyjamas anymore, but I found the comfiest old pair of flannel pants I had and changed into them. I didn't have any hot chocolate, but I did have a bottle of peppermint schnapps and decaf coffee, so that would have to do. Then, settling in next to my Charlie Brown tree, I flipped on the TV.

There were a million Christmas movies to choose from, but I didn't want to watch some cheesy holiday romance.

An old friend had once insisted that Die Hard was a Christmas movie. I had vehemently denied it, passionately arguing that Christmas movies were not action movies. But when it appeared on my screen, I knew it was the perfect choice.

That would be my new tradition, I decided. Schnapps and coffee, an ugly tree, and Die Hard.

**

I didn't hear much from Cole over the next couple of days, but that was to be expected. He probably had family functions, Christmas parties, all those fun holiday things to take care of. I was single, alone in a city where I didn't really know anyone.

I spent the time soul-searching. By that, I mean shopping. I didn't go all-out and buy every Christmas decoration I could find, but I did get a few more things. Most of them were in the clearance section, things that were broken or missing a piece and were cheap. I fixed them up, displayed them alongside my ugly tree.

I bought a few other things. Hot chocolate, because why deprive myself? Christmas cookies, just because. Even a few gifts, which I sent via overnight mail to my parents. My mom had called immediately after receiving them, panicking because she hadn't sent me anything. I had specifically asked her, and the rest of my family, to stop buying me Christmas gifts because I wasn't buying anything for them. It took nearly an hour for me to convince her that I wasn't dying and had just wanted to let them know I was thinking about them.

The only thing I bought for full price was for Cole. I had found a small ornament, a replica of Charlie Brown's tree from the cartoon. That, along with a copy of Die Hard I had gotten for him, were the only presents under my tree.

Around dinnertime on Christmas Eve, I took a picture of my decorations and texted it to him.

Hope I'm not interrupting any family celebrations. Just wanted to thank you for helping me get a little Christmas spirit back.

I was surprised when my phone went off just a few moments later.

Looking good! Love the decor. You even have a present! Any big plans?

Present's not for me. Probably just going to watch Die Hard again. Maybe we can get together sometime after all your family stuff?

My heart pounded as I hit send. We still hadn't talked about the hand-holding, hadn't even broached the topic of the almost-kiss. I wasn't even sure that he would want to, but I had to find out.

He didn't text back right away, and my heart rate slowed until I felt like it was falling. I tried not to let it hurt, and was just about to turn Die Hard on when it went off.

I'm actually just around the corner from your place right now. I know it's last minute, but want to meet up?

I raised my eyebrows and turned off the TV.

Well that's lucky. Sure!

Great. I'll be there in five minutes.

I raced into my bedroom and changed out of the flannel pyjamas as quickly as I could. Equally frantic, I tidied up the apartment, throwing clothes into the closet and dirty dishes haphazardly into the dishwasher. When Cole buzzed to be let in five minutes later, I was breathing hard, but the place looked reasonably presentable.

He knocked on the door and I opened it, expecting to see smiling, happy, Christmas-spirit-filled Cole. I had even imagined he might be wearing a Christmas sweater, or at least his Santa hat. But when I flung the door open, Cole was standing there with a somber look on his face.

"Hey," I said lightly. "Everything okay?"

I motioned for him to come in, but he hesitated.

"Can I ask a favour?" His voice was soft, characteristically serious.

"What's up?"

"Would you... I have a thing I need to do. An errand, kind of. Would you... will you come with me?"

He seemed so vulnerable, so nervous. Hesitant to ask, but needing support.

"Sure, Cole." I slipped my boots on and grabbed my jacket. "This isn't some like, surprise family Christmas dinner or something, is it?"

He shook his head. "No. It's... I mean it's kind of a family thing, but there's no one there. It's not... I'm not bringing you to meet anyone. It'll be easier to explain when you see."

I had never seen Cole so out of sorts, but I trusted him. We got into his car and sat quietly through the ride. I tried to think of where we might be going, and when we were near the outskirts of town again, I hoped my instinct was wrong.

We drove through a quiet area with mature trees lining the road. Cole turned past a stone gate and into a private-looking driveway that wound through the trees. If possible, the car grew even more silent as I stared out the window. The pit of my stomach tightened with dread as I realized I had been right.

There was no designated parking lot, so Cole just pulled to the side of the road. It wasn't until we got out of the car that he looked at me, a forlorn uncertainty in his eyes. He held a small paper bag in one hand, and I reached out and took his other hand.

"Show me where," I said softly.

We trudged through the snow, carefully following a path of footprints until we reached the top of a hill. A single pine tree, decorated with shining ornaments, stuck out of the snow behind three headstones covered with garlands, poinsettias, and decorations.

Erica Shepherd
April 3, 1963 - December 25, 2007

Donald Shepherd
August 23, 1959 - December 24, 2007

Carrie Shepherd
November 15, 1984 - December 24, 2007

Cole let go of my hand and opened the paper bag. Inside was a small angel figurine, made from a bell and mirrored gems. He placed the figurine on his mom's headstone as I watched silently.

"My whole family loved Christmas," he finally said. "We were that family. Christmas photos every year. Matching sweaters. I hated it a bit when I was in my teens. Carrie did, too, but Dad always said it was what Mom wanted and what Mom wanted, she got.