Hell on Heels

“That’s nice that they help out,” I said, as I watched him.

He finished attaching the stand. “Yeah. They’re good people. Lucky to have ‘em.”

“Mmm,” I mumbled.

“Okay.” He looked at me. “I’m going to lift the tree up. I need you to stand over there and tell me if it’s straight.”

I nodded and moved to where he pointed.

Dean lifted the tree up, and I yelled over to him, “Looks straight to me.”

He let go, and to no one’s surprise, the tree remained upright.

“You’re all set, then.” He rounded the tree and smiled at me.

Suddenly, I felt awkward. I was reminded of our moment in the stairwell this morning and the fact he was now in my apartment.

“Uh. Thanks,” I mumbled.

He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I better get going. Alycia’s waitin’ on me.”

I waited until he started moving towards the door and followed a few paces behind him.

Walking through the open door, he stopped and looked at me.

I mean really looked at me, like he was studying me.

“You doin’ okay with the holidays and all?” He remembered about Henry.

That was nice.

I shrugged.

“Tell your parents I said hi?”

This caught me off guard. It seemed like such a casual thing to say.

“Sure,” I told him.

Reaching out a hand, he grabbed the front of my parka and gently pulled me to him.

“Merry Christmas, Charlie,” he whispered.

His lips brushed mine, slow and nostalgic.

Then he let me go and walked backwards down the hallway with a smile on his face.

For the first time, I watched him go. When he disappeared into the stairwell, I went back inside.

Leighton arrived a few hours later with all her luggage direct from the airport and Greek takeout. We completed a marathon that consisted of the first three Saw movies and decorated our Charlie Brown tree, which Leighton complained was not ugly enough.

I went to sleep that night feeling a little more like me than I had in a long time.





Christmas had been brutal, as it always was for the Smith family, my family.

Four chairs at the dinner table, but only three still held loved ones.

Four hooks on the fireplace, but only three stockings.

There was a lifetime of memories in that beach house, some bad but mostly good, and it took our three hearts together to survive each wave of reminiscing as it hit.

We all missed Henry, but it was my dad who seemed to suffer the most.

He was quiet, chewing down the edge of his glasses while we played cards and told stories. When he laughed, it had an emptiness to it that made my soul ache just a little bit more. I knew his misplaced guilt got heavier as the weather got colder.

Mom and I visited Henry on Christmas Eve, burying two Poinsettias in the snow at the base of his tree. We knew they’d wilt and die quickly with the chill, but we didn’t mind. Back when he loved Christmas, he’d cover every square inch of the house with them.

“It hurts to miss you so much,” I’d told him, my knees in the white.

“I know, Charlie bear.”

His voice had picked up in the wind, and even though Doctor Colby said it wasn’t him, it still felt like him.

“Watch over them for me, will you?” he asked.

I’d pressed my lips to the frost covering the bark and promised him, “Always.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Merry Christmas, Henry,” I whispered.

My tears had become ice in the snow.

“Merry Christmas, Charlie bear.”

The twenty-fifth came and went.

I left my parents with goodbyes and boarded a first-class flight to Mexico on the afternoon of the twenty-sixth.

Work had been obscene. I didn’t think I’d seen so many holiday parties in all the years since I’d started Smith & Co Productions. As a rule, and as a company, we did not plan any events between Christmas and the New Year. Of course there had been exceptions over the year, but typically we did not. It was something I found important, that my staff spend that time with their loved ones. They worked hard and we made good money. Mostly, I knew how precious time was, and I wanted that time for them.

As such, on the twenty-third of each year, our offices closed. Tina and Tom remained in the city, as both their families were local, and they offered to manage the emergency line while I was out of town. Every time they offered, I graciously accepted.

It was the thirty-first, six days into our vacation, and we were at Cancun’s best New Years Eve party on the beach.

Half naked bodies pulsed to the beat of the music, and a man on stage hollered out the five-minute warning to countdown.

“I’ll go get the champagne!” Leighton yelled into my ear, and I nodded. “You stay with him.” She laughed and pointed to Kevin.

He was feeling no pain and was currently on a small dance podium attempting to outshine two bikini-clad women. This, of course, was entertaining, because Kevin danced like an injured leather jacket. Limbs everywhere.

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