Page 4 of Five Days of Christmas Spice

I keep telling myself that, even as the lump in my throat grows bigger, I end up sniffling through the rest of the drive.

2 NOEL

I brush past a mother bouncing a crying baby on her hip and through the crowd of people who clearly have no idea where they are going. Grandparents and aunts standing still, locked in an embrace. Couples kiss each other goodbye, and I push down the lump in my throat, irritation heating my skin.

Lots of people don’t have anyone special to spend this Christmas with, and it’s fine. I dodge a cluster of women cooing over a baby and shake my head. At least I don’t have kids. Claire didn’t want any. That thought just adds to my mood, and I side-step the cooing and ahhing and dash down the corridor to my gate. Every single chair is occupied. On Christmas Eve, what did I expect?

My phone vibrates against my pocket, and I answer, leaning against the window. “Yeah?”

Glancing outside, I see thick snowflakes covering the tarmac, and I hope the weather doesn’t cause any delays.

“Why are you so hard to get a hold of?”

“Why do you have to call me so often?” It’s my brother, Evan, and he’s a grump.

Someone runs into me, and I turn. A man with a toddler smiles at me in apology.

“We are trying to make sure you’re okay, Noel. Give us some slack.”

I probably should not ride them so hard, but what kind of older brother would I be if I didn’t?

“No snow out your way?”

“Nope, it’s a balmy ten Celsius. The sun is shining.”

I think it was October since we experienced anything above a zero. The weather is a safe topic. That’s why all small talk starts with it, and while I’m using it now. I’m tired of telling them how I am and reassuring them that I’m fine.

I didn’t drink too much the night before.

I didn’t buy a new car, or like that one time, I bought six properties for sale in the middle of nowhere in Ontario.

And I didn’t do something completely rash, like return to working for a firm.

“Evan, it’s the third year without her. I’m not great, but I won’t abandon ship.”

I reflectively clench my fist as if I could stop the pain that’s still an open wound deep in my solar plexus.

“Good to hear, Noel,” Evan’s tone lost its usual snark. I know my brothers had a hard time watching me deal with my grief.

“You know I am going to see good friends at the end of this flight, and I like checking on my pet project. I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve.”

Vixen’s Paradise may have come to life on a whim, but I left the day-to-day operations with the two people I trusted most in the world, outside of my brothers. It was Evan who convinced me to bring my half-formed idea to life.

“Okay, I’ll see your ugly mug soon. Are you going to join the party?”

I turn from the window.

In the crowded room, a woman on her knees frantically shuffles clothes out of shopping bags from the airport shops and crams them into her small carry-on suitcase. Her long auburn hair falls past her arm as she tosses out a pair of flip-flops.

“Noel?” Evan barks my name, impatience clear in his tone.

“Sorry. No, I’m not going to join in.”

“It’s okay if you do.”

I close my eyes against the icy grip of grief because it’s a weird mix of guilt, this kindling of need I have and knowing I can’t bring it to my wife.

But other than one lousy one-night stand eight months after her death, I haven’t slept with anyone since Claire left me three Christmases ago.

---