Page 2 of Run, Run Rudolph
Maybe instead of moping about being alone, I needed to spend more time with my friends. I should ask the GAL PAL squad—my former roommates—to stay over for longer than our planned, one-night New Year’s celebration. They could stay an extra day, and we could bake, watch movies and give each other pedicures.
I tapped the brakes as something reflected back at me from the ditch, my heart thumping. Was that an animal?
No. Just a reflector on a buried line marker. Country roads were the worst at night. I thought anything that flashed in my headlights’ glare might be animal eyes.
I couldn’t wait to get home, stretch out on my couch in front of the fireplace and Christmas tree, take off my bra and sip hot chocolate.
My phone chirped with a text, and I wished again that I was home so I could read it.
No, not a real wish.
I didn’t need to follow my best friend Char into massive fairy godmother debt with some ill-thought-out wishes. Even several months later, I could still barely believe that fairy godmothers were real—and that they charged exorbitant amounts when they granted wishes. It made me very leery of using the W word—wish.
As for reading texts while driving, I was simply envious of vehicles where a person’s phone and car stereo spoke to each other, and thus the driver.
Anyway, it was likely only Samantha texting the group, which meant it could wait. She’d been fighting with her very lovely boyfriend Malachi for weeks, and seeing that they lived together, she needed a friend to calm her down every so often so she didn’t break up with him. Which lately, seemed to be a couple of times a day.
But I knew someone else would talk her off the ledge in our group chat. It used to be called GAL PAL—Giggle and Laughter, Pouring our hearts and Listening. Now, it had been renamed to Save S&M. I didn’t like the new name—it made me think of sadomasochism, and not saving Samantha and Malachi. I couldn’t wait until her relationship was on solid ground again so I could change the name back.
Ignoring my phone’s bings and boops, along with the phantom eyes in the ditch, I leaned back, relaxing my grip on the steering wheel. I was almost home.
I stretched to twist the radio dial, cranking up Travis Tritt as he finished singing All I Want for Christmas Dear is You. Maybe one little wish to Estelle, the fairy godmother, wouldn’t hurt…
How much would it cost to wish for love?
When I glanced back at the road from the radio, it was like someone had emptied a bag of bounding reindeer in front of me.
Wait. Reindeer? We weren’t that far north, despite what some tourists believed. We only had mule and white-tailed deer in the foothills. And the occasional moose or elk.
My thoughts were quick as I jammed on the brakes. My convertible Sebring slid one way, then the other. I furiously corrected and braked, squealing as the herd jumped around on either side of my car. Antlers created finger-like shadows in my headlight’s beams. In front of me. Behind me. Surrounding the car were furry hooves and wide, dark, terrified eyes.
There was a thud as a hoof hit the door on the passenger side. A white-and-brown belly blocked my view as a reindeer leapt over the hood. How many were there? It felt like they’d never stop jumping and landing.
A small red light appeared before me. I made a hard left, spinning as I jammed the brakes, afraid I was about to rear end someone I couldn’t see due to the falling snow and flying deer.
I could have sworn the deer were intermittently flying.
But if they were, they wouldn’t be on the road, would they?
There was another flicker of red as my car finished its spin. I was still moving forward. A deer jumped in the same direction I was heading, and my bumper made contact with a dull thump.
Then the reindeer were gone. There was nothing but darkness and empty road as my car finally slid to a halt, sideways across the snowy country road, sending tunnels of light into the ditch’s grove of bare trees.
It had only been a few seconds of twisting my way through the herd, but it had felt like minutes.
I unclenched my hands from the steering wheel and flicked on my emergency flashers, grateful I hadn’t hit the steep, snow-filled ditch. I left the car running, as per my mom’s advice about collisions and the ignition kill switch that wouldn’t allow you to restart a vehicle post-accident. I hopped out to check the damage, ensuring my thick winter coat was zipped up to my chin.
In the glow of Benjamin’s—my car’s—headlights, I could see my bumper had lost the quick battle. It hung crookedly, the blue plastic sporting a jagged hole bigger than a hoof, and there were bits of brown fur stuck around it.
Oh, no.
I scanned the dark road behind my car. Something red was flashing on the ground, almost in time with my car’s flashers. Had one of the deer kicked out a taillight? I walked toward it, my car highlighting the road with a rosy red glow every half second. My lost taillight was by a deer who was lying on its side. Weird that the light was still working.
I approached slowly, and tears wet my eyes as guilt took over. The poor thing! The deer had its back to me, ribcage heaving. What if it was severely injured, and I had to call someone to put it down?
Stupid Travis Tritt and the stupid radio. Why hadn’t I been watching the road?
I pulled out my phone to use its flashlight to help me see better as I approached, talking softly so as not to startle the animal, like Haden had once taught me when I was a teen. The deer was smaller than I’d expected, and as I took it in, I ruled out the possibility that it might be a mule deer. It wasn’t a white tail, either. It seriously looked like a woodland caribou—AKA reindeer—like they kept at the Calgary Zoo. Had one gotten out and travelled all this way undetected?
