Page 143 of Holidating
You are ridiculous, she chides herself.Stop it.
It’s just that Cici was right. Nicolette never lets herself get very attached to anyone, because they always disappear. Like her mother—gone from a brain tumor when she was ten. And her father, who can’t be bothered to pick her up from an airport himself.
Damien picked her up because it was his job, but it always felt like more than that. She imagined they had a real connection. That he was as interested in her as he was in the sixty-dollar fare.
Maybe he found a way to go to art school, though. She should be happy that he’s chasing his dreams.
She picks up her phone one more time and calls Rose’s Taxi.
Seven hours later, she gets off a plane in the Burlington Airport—the first place Damien ever dropped her off. It’s Christmas Eve, so there’s a Christmas tree in the corner on the rugged carpeting. It’s the kind with industrial tinsel and presents that are probably just wrapped empty boxes.
Nicolette feels a little hollow inside—like one of those fake gifts. And even though she knows he’s not coming, she glances around for Damien at the baggage claim.
There’s no sign of him, and she feels a fresh wave of disappointment.
Her bag trundles toward her on the carousel, and she yanks it off the conveyor belt and extends the handle. If he were here, he’d tease her about how much the bag weighs.How many bricks did you bring home this time?
She drags the bag out to the curb and eyes each car until she spots one that hasOVERLANDscribbled on a cardboard sign in the window.
As she approaches the car, a middle-aged Black woman with short salt-and-pepper hair climbs out to meet her. “So you’re Nicolette,” she says with an appraising frown.
“Um, yes?” That strikes her as an odd introduction. “Are you Rose? Thanks for picking me up on short notice.”
The woman looks her up and down, nods, and then heaves her bag into the car’s trunk in one fluid motion. “Got bricks in there?”
Nicolette sighs. Then she climbs into the backseat, the way most people ride in a taxi. But it feels all wrong now.
Luckily, Rose doesn’t try to make conversation. Instead, she turns up the radio, which is set to a news channel. It doesn’t help Nicolette’s mood to hear about the recent North Korean nuclear tests. Or fighting in Afghanistan.Intense clashes between NATO forces and Taliban insurgents have resulted in the heaviest casualties seen this year…
If Damien were here, they’d be singing along to Christmas tunes by George Michael and Whitney Houston. She’d be nagging him to see his latest vampire drawings.
And maybe—just maybe—she’d have been brave enough to ask him out for a drink after Christmas.
“Got something for you,” says Rose from the front seat.
“Sorry?”
“Here.” Without taking her eyes off the road, Rose lifts a white envelope and offers it over her shoulder. “He left this for you.”
“Damien?” Nicolette asks stupidly.
“Of course, Damien,” Rose says gruffly. “It’s not from Santa Claus, is it? He gave me this letter and said to give it to you when you called.”
Nicolette takes the envelope and smooths it across her lap.NICOLETTEit reads in dark black ink. There’s a little drawing of Selene Nightshade—the vampire inspired by her—grinning beside the letters.
Her eyes begin to sting. Because he didn’t forget about her after all.
She carefully slides her thumb under the flap, taking care not to rip the envelope. She pulls out two sheets of paper and begins to read.
Nicolette—
Happy Holiday vacation! I hope you manage to avoid your stepmonster’s caroling party on your own this year, because I can’t be there to help. I’m not sure where I’ll be when you get this letter. Maybe Texas. Or maybe Afghanistan or Iraq. I’ve enlisted in the army, because I can earn a good living and then go to school on the G.I. bill. It’s the best way I could figure out how to move my life forward.
Maybe you’re reading this and wondering why your taxi driver felt like he had to explain his disappearance. And you’d have a point. Except you’re the one who pushed me to try for school, and nobody else in my life has done that. Literally nobody. I just thought you’d be interested to hear that it made a difference to me. I realized that I don’t always want to be a taxi driver who draws on the side. I’d like to be an artist who also drives a taxi.
So thanks for that.
Sincerely,
