Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Dan hands me one of their older cell phones. “Don’t look too excited.”
“Ha ha,” I mutter sarcastically.
“It’s just a bit of fun.”
“I’m having fun—the time of my life. I can’t wait,” I say dryly but with a hint of a smile.
Back in my office, I call my real estate guy. I’ve got a penthouse waiting for me, but there’s an issue with the bedroom. That means I’ll be with Dan until at least after the holidays.
I could get a hotel. I have the money, but I’ve missed Dan. We were inseparable as kids. He didn’t care that I was from the wrong side of the tracks or had holes in my sneakers. I helped him by kicking the asses of any jerks who thought they could bully him, and he helped me with books and computer time. We were a good team.
Back then, it was easier. Back then, I never dreamed I’d one day find his little sister attractive.
I grab my phone when I hear the alert noise. There are no notifications.
Oh, that’s right. It’ll be my other phone.
I check that one; it’s a blockier older model. All the phones handed out differ, depending on what our customers recycled. After this Secret Santa stuff, they’ll presumably become recycled.
My Secret Santa: Do you want to give me any hints about what gift you’d like so I can—
Me: I’m okay with telling each other what we’d like. Or, honestly, you can save your cash, and I’ll just get you something.
My Secret Santa: Talk about ruining the fun. Why don’t you want to do the Secret Santa?
Me: Call it a philosophical viewpoint if you’d like. I don’t mind. Let me know when you’ve chosen your gift.
My Secret Santa: That isn’t how this works.
I put the phone into the top drawer and finish my work. The stranger texting me can’t have any idea how sick I am of people trying to force me to get into the holiday spirit. A knock at my door—Mia again. She’s holding a little tree in a plant pot, complete with lights.
“I thought you might like this, sir,” she says, biting her lip while looking down. Please don’t say she’s attracted to me. I’m not in the mood for any office romance, none, but especially one-sided.
“I’m fine,” I tell her.
“It’s a little cold in here,” she says.
“The rest of the office is cheery enough. Honestly, thanks for the thought, but it’s fine.”
When she turns away, she mutters, “No fun …”
Is Mia my Secret Santa? After the text exchange I just had, it’d make sense. What are the chances of it? Hundreds of phones were handed out. It doesn’t matter. Soon, they’ll break, tell me what gift they want, and I can just buy it and go on with my life.
“Want to join us for a late dinner?” Dan asks.
I’ve got him on speakerphone as I drive through the city. “Sure. I’ve just got to handle that thing first.”
“Good luck. You’ll be fine. Remember, she isn’t the same person anymore.”
“I know. We’ve written letters. Even talked on the phone a few times.”
Seeing her is going to be different, though. Mom was just beginning to get clean when I moved away. She was determined to make me proud. She stuck to her word, too. I am proud, but I don’t need a mom now. I needed one when I was a kid.
When I came home, she practically begged me to visit her. It was heartbreaking. I’d feel like a douche if I left her in the lurch. It doesn’t mean it will be the touchy-feely reunion she might be waiting for.
I pull into her driveway. The house she lives in now is far more presentable than the one we lived in when I was a kid: a well-kept lawn, freshly painted door, a practical car in the driveway, not sitting on cinderblocks. It has wheels and everything.
There are decorations, too, predictably.
Mom throws the door open. She’s healthier than when I last saw her, with some meat on her bones. She runs out to the car and jumps at me, wrapping her arms around me. I hold her, aware I’m not as enthusiastic as she is. It’s tough. She disentangles herself, laughing uncomfortably.
“I’m sorry, Asher. That was a bit much.”
“It’s good to see you, Mom.”
“Do you want some tea? Coffee?”
“Sure, but I can’t stay long. I told Dan I’d have dinner with him.”
She swallows. “That’s fair. I can’t expect too much.”
“The place looks good,” I tell her, avoiding her words.
“I have you to thank for that, my go-getter son. I’ll never stop being grateful.”
“I wouldn’t be much of a man if I didn’t take care of my mother. What else am I going to spend my money on?”
She takes my hand. “You’re so big now. So strong. So different.”
I shrug. I can feel how badly she wants to make this emotional. All I can think about is that bush dug up from a neighbor’s yard, dental floss holding the pitiful ornaments in place. The look of manic, disconnected glee on her face made me feel like she was living a completely different reality from me.