Page 115 of Perfectly Complicated
I park on the shoulder, flip on the hazard lights, and watchas steam rises from under the hood. I don’t need a mechanic to tell me this is bad. My car has officially joined the war on Christmas.
In the backseat, Aria’s still sleeping peacefully, completely unaware that our Christmas trip has just hit a major snag. We’re stranded on a lonely highway, at least an hour from our destination, and I don’t even know if Rourke will be there when we arrive.
For the first time in my life, I break my teacher-approved vocabulary rules and say three words I never thought I’d utter:
“I. Hate. Christmas.”
Okay,maybe that’s a tad bit dramatic. But in my defense, everything is dumb to me right now.
Maybe Rourke wasn’t entirely wrong about Christmas. Maybe itisoverhyped—especially this idea that it’s supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year when,spoiler alert,it’s really not that wonderful being stuck on the side of the road with a baby and a broken-down car.
Last year wasn’t exactly magical either. Newly divorced, very pregnant, and ugly-crying over the ruins of my life. Not exactly the stuff of Hallmark movies.
But that’s what Rourke’s been trying to tell me all along. Christmas doesn’t have to be about pretending something it’s not. Some years are stupidly hard. Other years you’re piecing together a broken gingerbread house with tears and denial while your life burns down around you.
Maybe it’s not about pretending everything’s fine when it isn’t. Perhaps it’s about celebratinganyway.Because Christmas can be complicated and still worth showing up for. It can be both hardandgood. A disaster and a miracle—sometimes at the same time.
As hard as it is to admit, Rourke was right.
But so was I.
Because Christmas can be both things at once. The secret isfinding the light in the mess.
And maybe that’s true about everything else too. Like love. And faith. And a car that smells vaguely like burnt toast.
I take a deep breath, trying to let the truth settle in. We might not make it tonight. I might not find him in time. But I’m not alone. I’ve got Aria in the backseat, drooling on her bear and reminding me of everything thatisright in my world.
She may not be much help as a mechanic, but she’s the best co-pilot I could ask for.
I grab my phone, pray that I have cell service, and call roadside assistance. Because if Christmas is about finding light in the dark—well, I’m determined to find mine.
An operator picks up who sounds about as thrilled to work on Christmas Eve as I am about being stranded. I give her what details I can, but when she tells me it’ll be at least an hour, possibly two before a truck can reach us, that little light inside me flickers, then dies in a puff of smoke.
The sliver of hope I’m desperately trying to hang on to seems as far away as Narnia now.
I rest my head against the steering wheel, completely deflated. I came so far, and now we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere while Rourke is out there alone, totally unaware that I’m trying to reach him.
For the first time since this whole nightmare began, doubt creeps in like thick fog.
Where is the light in all this?
That’s when I see it. It looks smaller now, less magical. Just a piece of glass hanging from a string. But as the star ornament twirls lazily from the mirror, I’m reminded why we’re here. Because I believed in something better for us. Even if my plan to find Rourke falls apart completely, at least I tried. At least I fought for us.
That has to count for something.
I lean back, staring out the window at the night sky, where clouds have smothered the stars.
“A little light would’ve been nice,” I mutter to no one.
And because life has a sense of humor, that’s exactly when two headlights appear in my rearview mirror, growing brighter until a large vehicle slows and stops behind me. An older man in a stocking cap and Carhartt jacket gets out. “You need help, ma’am?”
“I’m waiting on a tow truck,” I tell him.
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “How bad were you trying to get somewhere tonight?”
“Like-I-need-a-Christmas-miracle bad,” I say around a hollow laugh.
“Must be your lucky night, then. Because my next call just got canceled.” He motions to his truck.
