Secret Santa Read online

  Jeremy and the blonde are sharing a piece of cheesecake.

  I make it to the bathroom before I start crying, and the tears only last for a minute. I pee and pull myself together and tell myself I’m overreacting. I’m being ridiculous. He’s just on a date. And even if he gets serious with her, our friendship has lasted through other relationships.

  It can last through this too.

  I wash my hands. Freshen up my makeup. Take several deep breaths until I’ve convinced myself I’m just fine.

  As I leave the bathroom, the first thing I see is Jeremy. He’s standing in the hall outside the restrooms waiting for me.

  I freeze.

  He’s wearing a nice green shirt and good trousers. He looks like he made an effort for his date. He doesn’t have a baby face anymore. He looks startlingly handsome and masculine.

  I have no idea when that happened.

  “What?” I demand sharply, when he just stares at me.

  His mouth twitches, but not with humor. He’s tense. Just as tense as I am. He doesn’t reply.

  “What do you want?” I sound grumpier than I feel, but it’s better than bursting into tears again. “I’m on a date.”

  His eyes narrow. “So am I.”

  “I noticed that. Is there some reason you never told me about her?”

  “Maybe I would have had you not been avoiding me all week.”

  I gasp in outrage. “I haven’t been avoiding you! We’ve seen each other plenty. We’ve talked plenty. You certainly had time to tell me that you found someone you wanted to date, especially after you gave me such a hard time about not telling you about George.”

  His brown eyes are way too deep, intense, full of emotion I don’t understand. “That was different, and you know it.”

  “I’m not sure how it’s different, except that it’s you who did it instead of me, and I’m the one who’s always in the wrong in your point of view.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” He takes a step closer to me. The rumble in his tone makes my breath hitch. “You know perfectly well that’s ridiculous.”

  “How is it different? You got to make me feel all guilty about hiding George from you, and here you’re doing the exact same thing. How many times have you gone out with her?”

  “Twice.”

  I assumed this was his first date, and so his answer is a blow. I swallow hard before the swell of outrage overwhelms the pain. “Twice? And you haven’t mentioned her at all? So who exactly is the one hiding things?”

  “I’m not hiding her. I would have told you about her had you not been so standoffish this week.”

  “I haven’t been—”

  “Yes, you have. Why are you trying to lie to me when you know I know better? You said we should move past what happened on Sunday morning, and then you act like you don’t want to be near me. How exactly is that moving past it?”

  “I’m trying!” We’ve been having this argument in hushed tones, as required by the public setting in the hallway. But these words come out as a hoarse cry. My eyes burn. “I’m trying. I’m doing the best I can. But you need to make some effort too, and hiding a new relationship from me isn’t the way to do it.”

  If I start crying again, I’ll have to return to the bathroom to recover and redo my makeup again, and I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to let Jeremy do this to me—when he’s not taking responsibility for any of this mess, when he’s blaming it all on me.

  He looks like he’s trying to say something. I know the signs. His eyes drop. His mouth opens and closes slightly.

  And I’m suddenly terrified at what he’s trying to say. I clench my hands into fists as I wait for it.

  It takes so long my vision blurs over. I can’t wait anymore. “Why are we even doing this?” I rasp.

  He raises his eyes. “Doing what?”

  “This.” I gesture between us. “Getting all upset and fighting about stupid things. We’ve never been like this. We’re better than this. We’re not like this. Why are we doing this?”

  Something flickers on his face. Disappointment? Pain? Frustration? I’m not exactly sure. Then he meets my gaze and says in a cool voice he almost never uses with me. “We’re adults now. How naive can you be? Did you really think it could stay the way it was in high school between us?”

  I can’t speak for a moment. Can’t move. Can’t see. I can’t remember anything that hurt as much as this does. He’s put it into words now. Made clear what I was desperately afraid was coming.

  Our friendship is changing. Maybe completely.

  I’ve lost him.

  He must see some of the pain on my face because his expression softens suddenly. “May,” he murmurs, raising a hand to my shoulder. “I didn’t mean—”

  I jerk away. “Yes, you did. You did.” I’m not sure how I manage to do it, but I pull back my tears and clamp them down into a tight ball in my gut. “I’ve got a date waiting, and so do you. Why did you even come back here?”

  His face is way too tense. His brown eyes are aching. “I thought you were upset. I was worried.”

  I’m going to fall apart. Right here. Burst into tears and sob against Jeremy’s chest, begging for him to make it all better.

  But I have a man waiting for me at the table, and Jeremy has a date waiting too. And what we just said to each other means something.

  Jeremy isn’t mine the way he used to be.

  So I summon every particle of my control and manage to say, “You don’t have to worry about me. I think we both need some space for a while. Just... leave me alone for a while.”

  I leave then because I have to. Even one more moment of this conversation will break me. I walk back to George and try to want to be with him. It’s a couple of minutes before Jeremy returns to his date, and then the two of them get up to leave.

  George asks if I want dessert. I don’t, but I say yes anyway.

  I watch Jeremy leave the restaurant.

  Then he’s gone, and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so alone in my life.

  JEREMY DOESN’T CALL the following day. I’m not surprised because I told him to leave me alone. I don’t call him either although I want to.

  I hate what’s happened between us, but I’m not sure how it can ever get better.

  Jeremy was right. I was being stupid and naive. The kind of friendship we had before was young and innocent. Simple. It could never last very far into complicated adulthood. Only a fool would believe it could.

  I’m obviously that fool.

  I feel tired and sick as I go into the office on Monday morning. I’ve got work to do. And I need to send out the first weekly email reminder about the gift exchange. This is the first week. At some point between today and Friday, participants need to give their first Secret Santa gifts.

  I’m thinking about this as I unlock my office, so when I see a wrapped gift on my desk, it feels like my thoughts have conjured it.

  I’m not signed up for the gift exchange. I can’t since I’m the one organizing it.

  But there’s a gift on my desk nonetheless.

  My first thought is that it must be from Jeremy. Maybe it’s an apology or a gesture of reconciliation. But I told him to leave me alone, and he’s the kind of guy who would respect that. And he’s also not the gift-giving kind. He doesn’t even like Christmas. If he wanted to make up, he’d just come to talk to me.

  I feel confused and heavy as I open the card. All it says is “From your Secret Santa.”

  I smile poignantly. Someone is being nice to me. Giving me gifts I’d be left out of because I’m organizing the exchange. Maybe it’s Cindy, as a thank-you for helping her out.

  I slowly open the Christmas tree wrapping paper and then lift the lid on the box.

  I stare down at the inexpensive picture frame. There’s a dog on it. The same kind of dog that I desperately wanted when I was a kid. It’s not the exact same frame, but it’s close, and it makes my eyes burn with tears.

  I was telling George Franks about
this frame on our first date.

  He must have remembered.

  I had no idea the man was so sweet and thoughtful, that he knows me as well as this.

  I haven’t been fair to him. I’ve been all upset about Jeremy, and so I haven’t even given him a chance.

  But this is... amazing. I’m washed with a swell of appreciation.

  Someone cares about me.

  I’ve spent most of my life believing I’m cared for. By my family at first and then later by Jeremy as well. But this weekend it felt like I lost Jeremy’s care—not completely, since he obviously still cares about me. But the loss is real.

  And this answers it. Fills it.

  Someone else can care about me the way I thought Jeremy used to. I can’t cling to Jeremy the way I’ve been doing. It’s not right for him, and it’s not right for me. We’ll always be friends—I hope—but it has to change.

  Someone else can move to the center of my life.

  I gently stroke the dog in the little picture frame.

  Maybe that someone else will be George.

  Four

  I MANAGE TO MAKE IT through most of the day without falling apart or running to Jeremy’s office and throwing myself into his arms.

  That’s really what I want to do. Throw myself into his arms. The image comes to me at about ten thirty in the morning, and it grows stronger as the day progresses. I see the scene over and over again. I know if I stopped by to see him, he’d probably be sitting at his computer. That’s where he spends most of his day. But that doesn’t work with the picture in my head, so he’s standing up for some reason. Maybe he’s heading to the bathroom. Then I get there. He stops when he sees me. His eyes soften in that way they only do with me. And I run. I run right to him. He catches me and wraps his arms around me and holds me close.

  And the world is right again.

  I want it so much I lose the buzz I got earlier from the Secret Santa gift. I can’t work. Can’t sit still. Can’t do anything but imagine how it would feel if Jeremy would hug me.

  I give up at four forty-five in the afternoon. I’ve barely gotten anything done all day. I haven’t eaten. I’ve barely taken a sip of water. I feel sick from wanting Jeremy so much.

  And staying away from him as some sort of proof of my self-sufficiency isn’t like me at all. Plus it’s self-defeating.

  Jeremy is always going to respect my wishes. If I ask him to give me space, he’s going to do it. Which means the only way I can see him, talk to him, and touch him again is if I make the move myself.

  So I get up from the desk chair I’ve been sitting in for the past two hours in a futile effort to make myself work. I check out my appearance in the mirror, smoothing my hair with my hands and brushing away a stray fleck of mascara that’s probably been at the corner of my eye all day.

  I look fine, and Jeremy isn’t going to care anyway. He’s never loved me because of how I look.

  I get to his office just before five, but I’m not worried because he never leaves right at five anyway. He’ll be there.

  If he’s standing up, I’m going to fling myself at him, just like I did in my imagination over and over again today. I know it for sure.

  He’s not standing up. He’s sitting in his desk chair, facing his computer in the corner of his office. He seems to be working hard because his fingers are moving over the keyboard. Despite his concentration, he looks tired to me as I pause in his doorway to gaze at him.

  His shoulders are slumped, and his eyelids are heavier than usual. My heart pulls toward him—like it’s literally going to get drawn out of my chest.

  It takes him about ten seconds to become aware of my presence. First his fingers stop moving on the keyboard. Then I see him take a long breath and blow it out. Then, holding himself very stiffly, he turns slowly in his desk chair to face me.

  He doesn’t stand up. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t say anything. Even his eyes don’t soften.

  My heart stops pulling and starts to sink into my gut instead.

  I don’t throw myself into his arms.

  This is life. It’s not a silly fantasy.

  He bites his bottom lip for a minute as he waits for me to say something.

  So I do. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he replies, gruff and soft.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  He gives his head a slight shake. “You told me you needed space, so I was giving that to you. If you hadn’t asked for it, I would have texted a hundred times, called every hour, and camped out on your doorstep until you talked to me.”

  My heart does a complete one-eighty. “Really?”

  “Of course really.” He still hasn’t moved. Not even an inch. “You think I want to lose you?”

  For some reason the words terrify me. I make a little whimper and hug my arms to my chest. “Lose me? You thought you... you lost me? That we... we lost each other?”

  He gives the slightest of shrugs, his eyelids so heavy they mask his expression. “I hoped not.”

  “It was a fight. We’ve fought before.”

  “Yeah, but this felt different.”

  I exhale and step fully into the office, closing the door behind me. “I know. I’m not... I’m not sure what happened or why it happened, but I don’t want it to happen again.”

  “Me either.” He’s still not moving, and it’s unsettling me. It’s like he’s waiting for something, but I have no idea what he’s waiting for.

  I step closer. “You said our friendship couldn’t stay what it is. You said I was stupid for believing it could.”

  “I didn’t say you were stupid.”

  “Naive.” There’s an edge of bitterness in my tone because the memory of the words still hurts me.

  Something finally breaks inside him. He turns his head to the side as his features twist briefly. “I know I said that. I’m sorry.”

  “Did you mean it?” I can’t stand the distance between us, so I walk to the other side of the desk, leaning against the edge because my knees feel rather shaky.

  Jeremy doesn’t answer. He’s not looking at me.

  My throat constricts. “Jeremy?”

  “It’s got to change. We’re not kids anymore. You know that.” His eyes are focused on an empty spot in the air, and his voice is no more than a soft rasp.

  “I know we’re not kids. But why does that have to—”

  “What happens when you fall in love?” He breaks into my desperate question almost sharply. He’s looking at me now. Holding my eyes. “What happens then? You’ll fall in love. You’ll get married. You’ll have a family. How the hell do you think I’m going to fit into your life then?”

  Tears stream down my face. “Jeremy,” I gasp, wiping them away.

  “I know it hurts. It hurts me too. But you’ve got to think about it, May. You’ve got to answer the question.”

  I’m shaking helplessly. I want to hold on to him so much that the need is like an open wound. I start to answer but no sound comes out.

  “Think about it, May. Answer it. What happens then?”

  “We’ll still... we’ll still be friends. Won’t we?”

  “Of course we will. But you know it can’t be the same. You’ll have other commitments. Another man will have your heart. You won’t be able to give me everything you give me now.”

  I have to turn away for a minute to control myself. I’m sobbing softly.

  He doesn’t move to comfort me. It’s like he’s intentionally holding himself back. But he waits until I’ve gotten myself together enough to respond.

  “So you want to stop being friends now because of what might happen in the future?”

  “No, I don’t want to stop being friends!” The words burst out of him, breaking through the weird quiet restraint he’s been holding on to until now. “There’s nothing in the world I want less than that. You’re... you’re...”

  “I’m what?” I whisper, gazing at him with wide eyes.

  “You’re the center of everything for me. You
think I want to lose you?”

  I gulp. “Then what—”

  “I’m saying that both of us know the reality, whether we admit it or not. And what’s been happening in the past couple of weeks between us is that reality leaking out. Our friendship is going to change, whether we want it to or not.”

  “I don’t want it to.” I’m still crying. I cry over dog food commercials and sappy love songs. There’s no way I’m not going to cry about something that hurts as much as this does.

  “I know you don’t.” Jeremy finally stands up. He looks stiff and awkward for a moment, like he’s not sure what to do. Then he turns his body and leans against the edge of the desk right beside me. Our hips brush against each other. He wraps an arm around me.

  I lean against him, sobbing in relief and burying my face in his shirt. He smells like coffee and laundry detergent. He’s big and warm and comforting. He’s Jeremy, and I need him so much.

  When the tears have subsided, I straighten up, but I don’t pull away from him. I tilt my head against his shoulder. “So what do we do?”

  “How the hell should I know? You’re the one who’s relationally competent.”

  I giggle at his dry tone. “I don’t feel like I’ve been relationally competent lately. I know I’m holding on to how it used to be because I’m scared of things changing. And I want to do better. But I’m not prepared to lose you, Jeremy. Not even a little bit.”

  “You’re not going to lose me. Not until you want me gone.”

  I turn my head so I can press a kiss against his shoulder. “That’s never going to happen. I’m never going to want you gone.”

  He lets out a breath so deep I can feel the exhale all through his body. It takes a long time, but he finally says, “Okay. Let’s just... We’ll both do the best we can to be friends with each other and let things change if they need to. I don’t know what else we can do.”

  “Me either.”

  I feel better now. I’m no longer crying. I still feel a tension of fear in my gut, but a lot of it is drowned out in relief that Jeremy feels really with me again. I brush my lips against the fabric of his shirt on his shoulder again. “Will you come help me pick out a Christmas tree on Saturday?”