Page 1 of Her Counterfeit Christmas
Chapter One
LAYLA
The definition of chaos reads:a state of utter confusion or disorder; i.e., fifty middle school choir students during the last period on the last day of school before winter break.
My students probably think my whole life is teaching, but they’re not the only ones counting down the minutes until the final bell rings. My plans for the next two weeks involve sweatpants 24/7 and celebrating the holidays with my roommates by consuming our weight in sugar cookies and homemade caramels. I can’t wait for the holiday to officially begin.
Today is an early out day, but it still feels like school will never end. When at long last the bell rings, my room clears in under a minute. The last student calls out, “Merry Christmas, Ms. Adler,” before the door shuts behind her.
Freedom. My body relaxes in the silence. I grab mybelongings from my desk and lock my door. Before leaving the school, I stop by the English classroom of my roommate and best friend and stick my head inside.
“Bye, Livy. I’m off to visit Nana.”
She looks up from her desk. “Layla! We survived!” She pumps her arm above her head.
I give jazz hands, my excitement unable to remain contained. Some weeks, survival feels like a miracle.
“We’ve earned the next two weeks off,” I say. “From this moment on, we’re not allowed to mention anything that has to do with school.”
“Agreed. I have some errands to run, but I’ll see you at home later to celebrate the first night of winter break.”
“Our Christmas movie marathon awaits.”
Once outside, winter wind tugs at my hair and stings my cheeks. I huddle deeper into my coat. We’re expecting a big snow storm tomorrow afternoon, just in time for Christmas. I love winter. I love seeing Salt Lake City covered in snow.
Traffic is horrible, especially just after school ends. It takes me twenty minutes instead of ten to get to Nana’s assisted living center.
As I pull into the parking lot, my chest tightens and my head feels light. Most of the time I can live in denial about my financial situation, but every time I arrive at Brock Pine Home for the Elderly my anxiety makes an appearance.
I close my eyes and breathe through the panic.
When Nana moved to Brock Pine Home five years ago, she had a sharp memory and between Opa’s life insurance, retirement savings, and the sale of her house, she had enough money to support herself for years to come.
That was before she was in bed for weeks after she had apacemaker put in and her memory began to fade; before a despicable human played on her generosity and compassion to scam her out of most of her money; before dementia sunk its claws into her mind. I’ve reached the point where I don’t know how I’ll pay for Nana’s care beyond next month, and the future terrifies me.
When I’m able to force down my anxiety, I fold up my fears like a to-do list I have no intention of starting and leave it on the passenger seat. I can’t allow Nana to sense any of my despair.
With a bag of yarn slung over one shoulder, a stack of sheet music in my arms, and a bundle of peppermint candy canes clasped in hand, I head inside.
The front desk attendant looks up from his computer. “Layla!”
I hand him a candy cane with a tight smile. “Merry Christmas.”
“Thanks.”
I’d like to ignore him completely after he let Nana slip out of the front doors last week and get herself lost for the afternoon. A lot worse could have happened than scraped knees and palms. Lucky for him, everyone gets a candy cane for Christmas, per my mom’s tradition.
The custodian smiles as I approach. “Merry Christmas, Layla.”
“You too! How’s your wife?”
“Baby’s due in two weeks.”
I give him three candy canes. “I can’t wait to see pictures. Two of these are for your wife so your baby in utero can have a taste.”
He laughs and tucks them into his shirt pocket. I knitteda blanket for his baby I haven’t wrapped yet. I make a mental note to bring it tomorrow.
As I head to the recreation room to drop off the sheet music before visiting Nana, I wish a “Merry Christmas” to everyone I pass and hand out ribbon bedecked candy canes to all. I’m almost to my destination when I hear a dog bark. I freeze. Another bark.
