Page 10 of About Last Christmas
What if he shows up and says he’s been counting the days, the hours, the minutes, until he was able to see you again?
Okay, the last one is a result of my recent rom-com binge, but still, I need to explore the possibility of this rendezvous. Also, I’ve never rendezvoused before, and I find the word fun to throw about. What says intrigue and possible romance better than a fancy ten-letter word with a silent ‘Z’ AND ‘S’?
Gran took an early nap after dinner, and Pap turned on some war documentary. Everything was under control. I wasn’t needed. So I didn’t see the harm in coming. I nestle my chin in the thick wool collar of my coat. It’s cold out. The chill from the park bench is numbing my backside. Snow swirls around me, as if uncertain where to land.
I glance down the walk. With only two Sundays before Christmas, the park is buzzing with activity. Carolers arestrolling along the walk singing “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.” Families are meandering about, gawking at the displays. Thankfully, Josie’s surfing elf has remained stationed by the fountain.
I glance at my phone. It’s five after seven. No sign of Leo yet. But it’s busy here. Finding parking nearby is practically impossible. I left my car behind my antique shop on Main Street and walked over. My only sustenance today was a PBJ five hours ago, and my stomach is calling me out on my neglect.
My gaze drifts in the direction of the concession stand. Nachos sound divine right now. I never consider myself a foodie, but I’m definitely one who scopes out the food options at an event before deciding if I attend or not. Oh, that wedding shower will have a donut wall? I’m RSVPing. That recital will have a catered reception from Chick-fil-A? I’ll wear my stretchy sweater dress. And so on. I’m a sucker when it comes to food that I don’t have to prepare myself. Sadly, those opportunities don’t arise too often.
And even more sadly, I can’t venture toward the concession stand without losing sight of the park bench. With the crowd tonight, I could be in line for several minutes. No, I’ll wait for Leo and subtly persuade him that nachos go great with hot chocolate. He’s never had the drink before, so I think my convincing him is pretty high.
If only he’d get here.
7:10.
7:15.
7:20.
My butt is officially frozen to the park bench. I’m slowly turning into stone. People walk by me in a blur. My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Tilly, my best friend. She’s the only person I told about tonight.
Tilly
Do NOT forget to get his number this time. Or at LEAST his last name! I can’t stalk his socials without such crucial info. Don’t fail me!
I bend my fingers to get blood back into them and text …
Greta
He’s not here yet
Tilly
I thought he told you 7???
Greta
He did
Didn’t he? What if he said eight? My gut sinks. See? I should’ve written it down. My neuro tendency to forget the second I hear stuff is my worst enemy.
Greta
He might have said 8
Tilly
Keep me posted!
I “thumbs up” her comment and stand. I swear I can feel my frozen bones snapping into place. I grab a rogue sticky note from my purse. I tear off the edge where I blotted my lipstick earlier. The paper still has enough stickiness, so I write:
Leo, find me at the concession stand.
At least I won’t be hangry when he finally shows up. I was right. The concession stand is crowded. It takes me forever to go through the line. Once I get my cheesy fried tortilla fix, I return to the park bench.
It’s already after 8. No sign of him. I sigh and look at the turtledoves. “I don’t think he’s coming,” I say to the unassuming display. Either the cold is making me delirious or I’m just pathetic. Because the same spot where my grandparents sealed their love for each other is the exact place I got stood up.
