Two Weeks Before Christmas
Christmas was so overrated.
Nonetheless, I found myself standing in line for a coveted red cup of coffee, determined to drown my sorrows in white mocha syrup and ignore the fact that I probably shouldn’t be paying six dollars for a drink when I’d just lost my job.
Excuse me—wasdownsized.
The aroma of slightly bitter beans wafted toward my spot several people back in line. One of the baristas had tiny bells on her sleeve cuffs that jingled every time she worked the register. The man in front of me wore a Santa hat, and it took more self-control than I’d like to admit not to bat it off his head like a cat.
“Everyone knows ‘downsized’ is just fancy holiday talk for fired.”
I turned my woes away from Santa and toward my favorite co-worker—make thatformerco-worker—Piper Schaulis, who’d joined me in my quest for coffee-induced endorphins. She was just on her lunch break, though. I was on a permanent one.
Who gets fired two weeks before Christmas?
“Holly.” Piper faced me as we shuffled another step in the endless line pouring out of the popular coffee haunt in downtown Detroit. Her long dark hair poured like silk over the shoulders of her ugly Christmas sweater. As always, she somehow managed to look fashionable. And as always, I’d chosen not to participate in the ridiculous workplace tradition. “Look, I—”
“Wait.” I held up my gloved hand. “You’re using your ‘I know you don’t want to hear this’ voice.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this—”
“Aha!” I pointed at her.
“But you didn’t even like your job.”
“That’s not true.” I rolled in my lips as we inched up in line. Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” was now stuck in my head because of the social media reel I’d created earlier that morning from my suffocating cubicle. The reel I’d made through gritted teeth. The reel I’d had to remakefive timesbecause the client wanted more red and green instead of the gold and silver I’d defiantly used.
Piper squinted at me. “You threw away the candy canes someone left on your desk.”
I bristled. “That’s not work-related. That’sChristmas-related.”
“This time of year, Christmasisyour job.”
“Wasmy job,” I retorted.
“Maybe that’s part of why you got let go.”
At least she wasn’t pitying me with the “downsized” lie. “What do you mean?”
“Because you hate Christmas.”
“I don’thate—”
Piper crossed her arms and arched her dark brows.
Now it was Santa’s turn in line. He ordered a peppermint latte with extra sprinkles, which irritated me.
Okay, maybe Piper had a point.
“Fine, maybe Christmas is my least favorite time of year.” I grabbed a handful of my wavy red hair and shook it at her. “But how would you feel if you were a Christmas baby—aredheadedChristmas baby—named Holly?”
She shrugged one slim shoulder. “Grateful I had extra gifts at Christmas?”
“Ha. More likenobirthday gifts, because everyone forgets. Well, except my brother, Ryan…but not even my three sisters or parents remember.” Ryan and I had always been close, more so than with our older sister, who was thirty-five, and our two younger sisters.
He never forgot.
“Okay, that one I’ll give you.” Piper dipped into a half squat to peer into the display case of holiday cookies and scones. “Birthdays should be remembered. Isn’t this a milestone year for you?”
