Christmas Lights Read online

  At first she truly just didn’t know what she was feeling. But she found herself being interested in couples—just kind of watching them from afar. She watched how they interacted with one another and supported each other. She noticed that love took on so many more forms than she ever knew existed. Lately she found herself envious. Envy was not an emotion Victoria had felt often in her life. She was the smart sister, athletic enough and pretty too. Just about everything she ever wanted to do had come to her rather easily. She never had to work hard at much. She knew early on that she wanted to be a doctor, and although there was a lot of hard work involved, it was more of a matter of just doing it. Medicine had always been her love. Her work fulfilled her, and honestly, she never yearned for another type of fulfillment. She dated, but on her own terms. She could always find an escort for any formal function she needed to attend so the fact that she was not attached to anyone hadn’t seemed to matter—until lately. It began like a dull gnawing in the middle of her stomach. She honestly didn’t know what it was. It wasn’t until she caught herself watching couples that she began to entertain the thought that just maybe there was something more. She watched her coworkers rush home to someone. Where once that looked like a hardship, lately it looked like it might be kind of nice to have someone to go home to and lean on. For the first time in her life Victoria felt like she couldn’t just go out and instantly get what she wanted. She realized she didn’t know the first thing about attracting a man. To be honest, the thought of trying to actively entice one embarrassed her.

  “Are you hearing me?” her mother’s voice rang through the cell phone. Her thoughts had drifted.

  “I am, Mom,” she promised.

  “What about that new neighborhood of yours?” she asked. “I hear it’s full of young people. Certainly everyone can’t be attached.”

  Victoria had just bought a townhouse in a newer development. “Mom,” she groaned. “What do you want me to do, hang out a sign, ‘Desperate Unattached Girl Lives Here’?”

  “Have a party,” her mother offered promptly.

  “And invite who?” she asked incredulously. “I don’t know anyone!”

  “What do you expect? Them to come knocking on your door?”

  She wanted to say that that’s the only way she was going to get to meet them, but she didn’t. She knew her mother’s heart was in the right place. There was no way she could admit to her mother how insecure she felt about dating. She could barely admit it to herself. Secretly, and maybe a little childishly, she wished her mother would guess. But after all these years of being the strong, overachieving daughter, it was unfair of her to expect her mother to read so deeply between the lines.

  “Well, at least your nativity scene’s out,” her mother said. Victoria swore the woman had a sixth sense. She shook her head. She could probably see right through the phone.

  “Why would it matter?” she asked.

  “Because only good people put out nativities. It helps people weed people out.”

  “Mom, really.” Victoria laughed.

  “Don’t laugh,” her mother admonished. “It’s true.”

  “Okay,” she said, still laughing.

  “What time will I see you? Do you need to sleep first?” her mother asked. “Were you busy last night?”

  “Not too busy,” Victoria said. “Things were pretty quiet. I got a little sleep. I’m just going to catch a few hours of sleep and then I’ll be right over. I’d never miss Christmas Eve.”

  “That’s my girl,” her mother said. “Oh, you didn’t forget the celery, did you?”

  “No,” Victoria said. “Got it right here.”

  “Good girl,” her mother complimented her. “Love you, honey.”

  “Love you, Mom,” she answered as she pulled her car into the driveway. Then she shut off the phone and the engine and sat in the car.

  It was funny how she said she would never miss a Christmas Eve with such exuberance. If the truth be told, she couldn’t remember the last time she felt Christmas. Year after year Christmas came and Christmas went, but she never really felt it. She guessed she meant Christmas spirit. What she really remembered, though, was that little tickling of excitement inside her tummy that she used to feel as a child. As a girl she felt it all of the time, of course. But as she grew she felt it less and less. Did anyone over twelve really feel true Christmas spirit?

  She leaned back in the seat and looked up at the winter sky. It was full of puffy clouds that she wished would arrange themselves into the face of Jesus or a cross or even a Santa Claus or a Christmas tree, something to make her feel the hope and spirit of the season. As she looked up as if to say “I’m right here. Don’t forget about me,” she brushed something off her cheek. She screwed up her face, puzzled. It couldn’t have been a tear because she hadn’t cried since she was a kid.

  She got out of the car. The harsh wind smacked her in the face. The sky was looking more ominous by the second. She better hurry. After unlocking the door, she charged into the apartment, only to almost trip over scattered moving boxes. She really needed to unpack. She should at least try to make the place look like a home. Her eyes darted from box to box as she tried to figure out which one held the nativity scene her mother had given her.

  “Okay,” she crooned when she spotted it, “let’s get you guys out of there.” She dragged the box out onto the balcony. One by one she pulled the pieces out, arranging them in the corner. It was a bit of a struggle, as the wind was picking up. Mary kept falling into Joseph. The Wise Men toppled onto the little lamb, and the shepherd seemed determined to knock over the Baby Jesus. She all but slammed Joseph upright, then felt guilty. Once they were all in their places, she stared at them, smiling. “You’re a good-looking group,” she said softly. They looked beautiful. The purple-gray sky gave them a glow even without the bulbs being lighted. Right now they seemed to be lighted by the light above, God’s light.

  “Cool,” she whispered, giving them one last look, then glancing up at the menacing sky. “Definitely looks like snow,” she murmured, puzzled. Had snow been forecast?

  Inside, she lay on the couch with the intention of just resting her eyes but instead fell asleep wondering if she’d ever find her Christmas spirit again.

  An hour later she jumped, startled, out of a sound sleep. She had been so deeply asleep that at first she didn’t even know where she was or what had woken her. During all of those nights of sleeping on call at the hospital, it was always the screech of her pager that awoke her, but not this time. Confused, she looked around. A loud rapping came from the front door. She couldn’t imagine who it could be. She didn’t know anyone. It was probably someone trying to leave a package for one of her neighbors.

  Grudgingly, she went downstairs. When she opened the door, she was nearly blinded by the bright light. Her eyes grew wide. What in the world had happened while she had slept? It must have snowed a foot. Blocking almost the entire doorway was the most humongous sheepdog she had ever seen. Squinting into the glare, she could make out the silhouette of a woman who was struggling to hold the dog back.

  “Sorry,” she said, huffing and struggling. “Rizzo, pleeease!”

  “Sorry,” she said to Victoria again. “Hey, Merry Christmas,” she managed. “Is this camel yours?” Then the woman realized that she hadn’t produced a camel. “Oh, wait,” she said with an embarrassed laugh as she struggled with the dog’s leash, which was fast becoming tangled around her. With a groan she yanked a plastic camel out of her coat.

  “Here, this one.”

  This time they laughed together.

  “Yes, he’s mine,” Victoria said, recognizing the plastic figure from her nativity scene. “I guess that storm was pretty bad.” She used her hand as a visor to shield her eyes so that she could see better. It helped the neighbor to come into focus.

  “I’m Page from down the street,” the woman explained. “And this is Rizzo.” She all but groaned. “Lovable but out of his mind.”

  Victor
ia laughed. “Sometimes the best combination.” Victoria noticed Page was a pretty, middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper, perfectly coiffed hair. Something about Page’s face made her seem familiar. Her eyes? Her nose? Her freckles? Victoria couldn’t decide. Page wore tight-fitting running clothes beneath an extra-large sweatshirt and coat. The sweatshirt read “I do it,” and Victoria decided she did. Page didn’t look like one of those people who wore exercise clothes as a fashion statement; she really worked out in them. Her slim figure was testimony to that. Suddenly Victoria felt out of shape—maybe a New Year’s resolution? she thought, making a mental note.

  “That was quite a snow, wasn’t it?” Page said.

  “I guess so,” Victoria agreed, still feeling as if she were Rip Van Winkle and had woken up out of a forty-year sleep.

  “I like your nativity,” Page said. “I noticed it this morning, before the storm.”

  “Thanks.” She liked Page already. “A gift from my mom.”

  “Neat,” said Page, her eyes twinkling. “Well, welcome to the neighborhood,” she added, holding tightly to Obie, who seemed determined to get into the house. “I’m in 301. Knock anytime. Maybe we could walk together.”

  “Okay,” Victoria answered quickly, meaning it. “I will. Hey, thanks,” she added, holding up the camel. “And Merry Christmas.”

  After she closed the door, a face of a childhood friend flashed into Victoria’s mind. Page looked familiar because she had the same freckles and eyes of Victoria’s first-grade friend Jenny. On her way up the stairs, Victoria smiled, thinking that sometimes God is playful.

  She went out to the balcony door to replace the camel. She blinked, not believing her eyes. Except for the manger, the entire nativity scene was gone, every single piece. The space where it had sat was covered with a pile of newfallen snow. She looked down over the balcony rail, but for as far as she could see, there was only a blanket of undisturbed white. Where in the world had they all gone?

  From out on the balcony she could hear the faint sound of her doorbell ringing again. “It doesn’t ring once in four months,” she muttered to herself on her way down the stairs, “now it’s ringing every two minutes.” This time when she opened the door, standing before her were two older women who looked to be in their seventies.

  “Helloooooooo,” they yodeled in unison before Victoria had a chance to open her mouth. They were dressed identically in matching blue wool caps, red mittens, and purple parkas. They were fit and lively. An identical thick patch of bangs stuck out from under their caps. Once she had a chance to take a longer look at them, she could tell that they had identical faces. Up close their energy was almost overwhelming.

  “I’m Addie,” said one.

  “I’m Maddie,” piped the other.

  “Actually,” they said together.

  “Adeline,” one clarified.

  “And Madeline,” the other followed.

  “We’re sisters. And twins.”

  These last two announcements were made in unison; it sounded like one voice. They spoke with such great exuberance it wasn’t hard to realize just how proud they were of each other and of themselves.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Victoria laughed.

  “Oh, it’s nice to met yooou!” they insisted so boisterously she knew that these two refused to be outdone.

  “We were out for a stroll,” the one began.

  “And the strangest thing happened,” the other continued.

  “We stumbled across these Wise Men!”

  “Imagine!” one of them began. “Two wise women stumbling over three Wise Men,” they exclaimed together, then laughed, almost screeching. Then without warning their collective expression turned on a dime.

  “We really stumbled!” the one explained, nodding seriously. “If they are yours, you really should be more responsible with your things, dear.”

  A bit taken aback by the impromptu scolding, Victoria opened her mouth to apologize but found the moment gone before she could catch it. These ladies moved fast.

  “Poor things,” they both said now, shaking their heads side to side and staring at the Wise Men as if they were real.

  Wanting somehow to grab onto this situation, Victoria clumsily jumped in. “Yes, they are my Wise Men,” she blurted. “And I am so, so sorry you stumbled on them.” She was talking quickly because she was afraid she might not get another chance. “But I do thank you for returning them.”

  “Returning them safely,” one added.

  “We’re returning them safely,” the other insisted.

  “Yes, yes you are,” Victoria agreed. She was beginning to find the humor in the situation and swallowed a laugh. “And I really do thank you both,” she repeated, enunciating each syllable. These ladies obviously needed thanking more than once to feel appropriately appreciated.

  “I’ll be sure to put them right back,” Victoria assured.

  Thankfully, the sisters seemed to be a little short on focus on other things and turned their attention back to themselves, where Victoria suspected it was most of the time anyway.

  “Remarkable,” one hissed.

  “Yes, remarkable,” the other one agreed, seeming to know exactly what her sister was referring to.

  “Yes. We really are remarkable showing up like this, just in the knick of time!”

  “Oh, yes!” Victoria agreed, relieved that they were pleasant again. She realized these ladies loved to find themselves in the middle of coincidences, coincidences that were real or created. And she also guessed that they were very often the heroines in these episodes.

  “Well, tootle loooh!” one yodeled.

  “Yes, tootle loooh!” the other echoed.

  As she closed the door, Victoria decided they were lovely but exhausting. This time she climbed the steps slowly, laughing to herself. She decided she liked those ladies. She might run the other way when she saw them, but she liked them. Then she went out to the balcony, replaced the three Wise Men, and took a long look at the lonely pieces. The absence of the others gave her just the slightest pang of sadness. She hoped they’d come back.

  She went inside to put on a pot of tea. She guessed that her nap was over. As she waited for the water to boil, she daydreamed. An odd tapping drew her from her thoughts. She wasn’t sure what she was hearing. It started off faint, then grew a little louder. It was an odd sound. Sort of like a tap, followed by a trickle. She emerged from the kitchen and stood in various locations in the apartment, listening. She was in the bedroom when she finally heard it again. She darted into the living room, trying to catch the sound. It definitely came from there. She waited and waited and then it happened again. Her eyes widened when she realized that someone was throwing snowballs at the balcony door. “Who in the world would do something like that?” she asked herself, exasperated. After she threw open the glass door, she quickly discovered just who would do something like that. Standing below the balcony was a teenage girl. Actually to say simply that she was a teenager did not begin to do her justice. If the truth be told, she was the most splendid example of “teenager” that Victoria had seen in quite a while. She was dressed like she had just come out of a catalog, with matching white-fur-trimmed hat, gloves, and boots. Her jacket was a baby pink and tiny. It stopped short of covering her exposed tummy. Her belly button was pierced. Victoria thought she saw a snowflake ring, but she couldn’t be sure.

  She had a good mind to ask what kind of person throws snowballs at a door like that, but she reminded herself that the girl was a child and it was Christmas.

  “Hi,” Victoria called down to her.

  “Hi,” the girl chirped back. “Is this Mary like yours?” She was holding the plastic Mary from the nativity scene.

  “Yes, she’s mine,” Victoria said. She got almost the first syllable of thank-you out, but it was missed because the girl was off and running.

  “Oh, good!” she said dramatically, as if to suggest that they had both just avoided tragedy. But then she sped off. “So li
ke I was coming home from Diaaaaana’s houuuuuuuuuse. We just had a fight, agaiiiiiiiiiiiin. Like our eightieth this week.” Her head bobbed wildly up and down as she spoke. “She’s been like hanging out with Nina and Marissa when I was at the orthodontist and she’s like ‘no I wasn’t’ and I’m like ‘yes you were’ and she’s like ‘no I wasn’t’ and I’m like ‘yes you were.’ So we had a fight,” she stated firmly, her head bobbing. This last sentence was punctuated with eye rolling. “And I’m sure I will never, like, speak to her again. So anyway, I was hurrying ’cause I guess when you’re mad you hurry or something and I looked down and like there it was. And I’m like, what is that? Then I’m like, oh my gawwwwd. It’s like Mary. Like Mary, Mary.” She took a big gulp of air, which Victoria was sure she needed because her entire monologue had come out in a huge rush.

  “I’m Natalie, by the way,” she said. She had an amazing way of speaking. She was completely animated and completely enjoyable to watch. She began each sentence very quickly then suddenly screeched to a halt, sped off again, then finally ended by drawling out the last two words while raising her voice, making every sentence sound like a question. Each sentence was peppered with “like,” “you know,” gum snapping, and eye rolling.

  It took Victoria a moment to realize that the girl was finished.

  “Oh, yes.” She blinked. “It was Mary, Mary,” she confirmed, then laughed out loud, realizing how dumb her statement must have sounded. She knew the girl would not notice her laughing.

  “And thanks a lot for returning her,” she added. She thought the conversation might be over, but she realized otherwise when the girl continued to stand in front of her, half nodding, half bobbing her head up and down. She seemed to be waiting for something more. Suddenly she seemed so young. All dressed up but still a little girl. Victoria realized that she was waiting to be talked to.