“How about, ‘Maybe it fell off the sleigh’?” Courtney said.
Trudy sighed. “Well, it beats, ‘Aunt Trudy had a Mac for you, but the United States government lied to her and took it away.’”
“Yeah,” Courtney said. “He’s mature for his age, but we’d never be able to explain that one. I’m still not sure I get it.”
“That’s okay.” Trudy straightened. “I get it. Let’s go to bed.”
She stood up and pulled Courtney to her feet and steered her in the direction of the stairs, and when her sister was gone, she walked around shutting off lights and turning off the fire, stopping when she came to the stereo where the CD had changed. Judy Garland was singing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” the carol that most made Trudy want to kill herself every holiday. She stood in the darkness and listened to Judy break her heart and let the tears drip as she thought of Leroy in the morning and of Nolan that night. I really did believe in you, she thought. For about five minutes, I believed, and it felt really good.
Then Judy finished her song and Trudy turned the stereo off and went to bed.
*
The next morning, Trudy curled up in an armchair in her flannel robe and mainlined coffee while Leroy opened his presents. When he was done, he turned and looked at them, standing straight in his Lilo and Stitch footie PJs, and said, “’Guffin?”
Courtney swallowed. “It wasn’t in there? Gee, baby, maybe it fell off the sleigh.”
Leroy looked at her with the five-year-old version of, How dumb do you think I am?
Trudy put her coffee cup down and took a deep breath. “Leroy, here’s the thing. There really isn’t a—”
The doorbell rang, and she stopped, grateful for any interruption. “I’ll get it.” She went to the front door and looked through the square windows at the top, through the gold wreath Courtney had hung on the outside.
Nolan was standing there, looking like three kinds of hell.
Good, she thought, you’re as miserable as I am, and opened the door. “Oh, look, it’s a Christmas miracle.”
He was holding two Christmas gift bags, slumping with exhaustion as the snow started to settle on his thick, dark hair. “Merry Christmas, Trudy.”
“Ho ho ho,” Trudy said. “I was just about to explain to my five-year-old nephew that there is no Santa. Can you come back at another time? Never would be good for me.”
He held out one of the bags. “Chill on the Santa. I got you covered.”
“Uh huh,” Trudy said.
“Go ahead. Look.”
She took the bag and looked inside at the top of a camo-colored box that said, New! Now with Toxic Waste! “You are kidding me.” She pulled out the box and saw the Mac Two, its pudgy little face uglier than ever now that its lips were pursed to spit goop. “How—”
“Top-secret,” Nolan said, trying an exhausted smile on her. “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
“That’s lame.” She put the Mac Two back in the bag, hope beginning to rise that maybe he wasn’t a rat until she remembered that what he’d really come for was the Twinkletoes. She handed the bag back to him. “You’re too late. And your patter is falling off.”
“It’s six A.M., I’ve had no sleep, and I’m freezing.” Nolan held the bag out to her again. “Everything I have is falling off. Will you take this, please?” Then he looked past her, toward the floor, and said, “Hi.”
Trudy turned to see Leroy, blinking up at them, looking absurdly small in his footie pajamas.
“What’s that?” Leroy said, pointing to the Christmas bag.
“I found it out on the front lawn,” Nolan said. “I think it fell off the sleigh.” He handed it to Leroy.
Leroy looked into the top of it and his face lit up. “Mom!” he yelled. “You were right!” He took off for the living room and then stopped and came back. “Thank you very much for finding my ‘Guffin,” he said to Nolan, and then took off for the living room again, so happy that Trudy felt her throat close.
“Cute kid,” Nolan said, and looked back at Trudy.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling absurdly relieved. Don’t get suckered by this guy again. “Well, I’d invite you in, but I’m still mad at you. So thanks. Merry Christmas. Have a good life. Somewhere else.” She shut the door in his face.
“If you don’t sleep with him, I will,” Courtney said from behind her. “He got my kid a MacGuffin. He forgot the extra toxic waste, but what the hell.”
“He’s not leaving,” Trudy said as the doorbell rang again. “Go get your Twinkletoes, he’s going to ask for it next.” She opened the door.
“Forgot this.” Nolan handed her three packages of toxic waste.
“How do you feel about dating women with children?” Courtney said.
“Get the Twinkletoes,” Trudy said, and Courtney went back to the living room.