5. Benji

BENJI

In the dream I was running.

Running as hard as I could through the snow, trying desperately to get away from Bastian and my family who were all standing under a tree decorated in Christmas lights.

They were beckoning to me.

They were laughing and drinking eggnog and waving me over to join them in their festivities.

But all I wanted to do was flee.

I wanted to escape.

I wanted to get as far away from them as possible.

Unfortunately, the snow beneath my feet had other ideas.

With every frantic step I took, the snow got deeper.

It became harder and harder to move.

My boots sank farther and farther into the snow.

Pretty soon I could barely move.

I began to disappear up to my waist, my chest, my chin, until suddenly I vanished beneath the snow.

That was when I felt something tugging at my sleeve.

I smiled when I realized I was being pulled from the snow by a big, blonde Saint Bernard.

It was here to save me.

I grinned and whispered, “Thank you!”

The dog giggled, then licked my ear.

I giggled back, squirming at the tickling sensation in my ear as the rescue pooch continued to lick me, laughing aloud at the cute canine until I opened my eyes and screamed—

“Connie! What the fuck are you doing?”

My cousin cackled with delight and bounced up and down on the bed on top of me. Thank God she was fully dressed, but by the way she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, I had the dreaded realization that—

“Oh my God! Were you just licking my ear?” I touched my fingers to my wet ear. “You were! Jesus!”

“Oh, cool your jets, Cuz. It’s not like I got very far trying to unbutton your pajamas.”

I looked down in horror to see the top three buttons of my pajamas undone. “Oh my God! You unbuttoned my pajamas!”

“Only halfway. Geez, you should be happy to have someone else in your bed for once.”

“Not when that ‘someone else’ is my cousin!”

“Cute little snowmen on your pajamas, by the way.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? And how did you even get in?”

“Oh please, this place used to be the old milliner’s mansion. The locks are still original. They’re easier to pick than a pair of handcuffs.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you know how to pick handcuffs. Now can you please get off my bed and tell me what you’re doing here?”

Connie playfully bounded off the bed and picked up a box that she had obviously brought with her. “Did you forget? We’re in charge of Aunt Lonnie’s Christmas card delivery service. The good people of Mulligan’s Mill need some Hallmark love from Lonnie and Ronnie, so get your butt out of bed and put on your tackiest, most magnificent Christmas sweater ever. These two little Elves got some work to do.”

I groaned and put my pillow over my head, my muffled voice murmuring, “I thought I made myself clear yesterday. Christmas is canceled.”

“Oh, stop being such a party pooper. So you’re hot ex-boyfriend is coming to town today, who cares?”

“Today? Jesus, he’s arriving today?”

“I thought we covered that last night.”

“No, we didn’t. All we covered was me being furious and Mom and Dad not having a single clue how this makes me feel. Jesus, is he seriously arriving today?”

“Stop calling me Jesus, my Buddhist soul finds it offensive. And yes, he’s arriving today. But don’t worry, you don’t have to see him. Your parents are cooking dinner for him, but nobody else will be there. I have to take Great Nan and Maggie to the park to see the carolers.”

“What about me? Don’t I get an invitation to dinner with Bastian?”

“Will you please make up your mind. Do you want to see him or not?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. They could have at least invited me.”

“I think your parents wanted to go nice and slow with your reunion with Bastian. You know, ease you into things.”

“Ease me into things? Inviting him to our house for Christmas is not easing me into anything!”

“Oh, stop turning everything into such a big deal. Don’t let it get to you. In fact, you should be seeing this for what it really is.”

“And what’s that exactly?”

“An opportunity to turn things to your advantage.”

I took the pillow away from my head. Connie had piqued my interest. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you get it? This is your chance to show him and everyone else that you’re fine. That you’ve totally forgotten about him. That you’ve moved on.”

“Moved on? I feel like I’ve gone backwards!”

“But he doesn’t have to know that. You just need to fool him.”

“Fool him into what? Thinking I can live without him?”

“Yes!”

“Fool him into thinking I’ve got my whole future ahead of me?”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Fool him into thinking I’m in a happy, new relationship?”

“Oh God, no!” Connie laughed. “That’s crazy… although…” Slowly her brow creased. “Maybe.” Then her eyes lit up with excitement. “Yes! Oh hell, yes! Oh my God, yes! A new boyfriend. We absolutely, one hundred percent, totally need to convince Bastian you’ve got a new boyfriend.”

“Connie, no! No, no, no! I was just joking. Don’t even think for a moment that inventing a fake boyfriend is a good idea.”

“I know it’s not, it’s a great idea!”

“Connie, it’s not. It’s got ‘Christmas catastrophe’ written all over it.”

“Why? It’s the perfect way to show Bastian he’s a thing of the past, and so is the hurt he caused you. Hell, let it be a wake-up call for him. Let him finally realize he gave up the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s bad enough that he’s coming back to town. I don’t need to throw some crazy pretend-boyfriend pantomime into the mix too. I hate lying. I’m a terrible liar. He’ll see straight through it.”

“Why would he? Benji, it’s what normal people do. They get over their heartbreak. They move on. They find love all over again. Why wouldn’t he think you could do the same?”

“Because he knows me. He knows that he was the love of my life. I’m telling you, he’ll never believe me.”

Connie nibbled on a thumbnail and I could practically see the scheme hatching behind her eyes. “Not unless we deliver the proof.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, if he won’t believe you, maybe he’ll believe whoever your boyfriend is. I’m saying, we don’t just tell him you’ve got a new boyfriend. We show him.”

“We show him what?”

“Not what. Who.”

I jumped out of bed, realizing I was not going to win this argument from under my duvet. “Connie, I know you’re having fun writing some whacky, wonderful rom-com in your head where true love wins in the end, but my life is not a movie. If it was, I’m pretty sure everyone would ask for their money back. I’m boring, I’m miserable most of the time, and I’m destined to be alone for the rest of my life.”

Connie gave a wicked little grin and grabbed my hand. “Not anymore. Come on, Cuz. Let’s deliver these letters and come up with a list of hot guys who would love to be your boyfriend, even if it’s just for a day or two.”

Connie granted me ten minutes to shower and get dressed in my tackiest, most magnificent Christmas sweater ever. I chose the red one with a row of reindeer doing the Macarena. It was Bastian’s favorite. Wearing corny Christmas sweaters was a thing we did together, and a habit I found hard to break. We called this one the Maca-reindeer sweater.

When Connie saw me wearing it, she gave me doe eyes. “Aw, get a load of that sweater. You are so fucking adorkable, you know that? Where does someone even find something like that?”

“Bastian and I used to have this tradition. Every year we’d find each other a Christmas sweater that nobody would ever wear out in public. Then… we’d make each other wear it out in public.”

“Aw, that’s the cutest.” She tapped me on the nose with a “Boop!” before picking up my mother’s box of Christmas cards and dragging me out the door.

Driving through the streets of Mulligan’s Mill in Sadie my Citro?n hatchback— with the snow gently falling and the festive lights shimmering against the gray skies— I tried to let the Christmas spirit wash away my bubbling, stewing emotions. I wasn’t sure what was irking me most: my annoyance at Mom and Dad for inviting Bastian to town, or my stress over Connie’s newly hatched plan to invent a fake boyfriend.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean it could all go horribly—”

“Shh, I’m already coming up with potential boyfriends.” She was flicking through the box of Christmas cards as though it was a rolodex of dating opportunities.

“You’re not getting names from Mom’s Christmas card list, are you?”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, except half of them are my old school friends, half of them are over the age of eighty, and half of them can’t even spell their own names.”

“You just came up with three halves so I wouldn’t be so judgy if I were you. Besides, we’re not setting you up on a real date here. This is just to make Bastian realize what an ass he was for letting you go.”

“He may not realize he’s an ass at all if you set me up with the wrong guy.”

“And what, pray tell, is your definition of ‘the wrong guy?’”

“I don’t know. Someone who’ll make Bastian question my taste in men. Someone who’ll make him question why he ever dated me in the first place.”

“Like who?”

“I don’t know… like Ken Clampett… a.k.a Kenny Cockroach. The guy’s only got three teeth and two of them are wooden pegs.”

Connie discreetly tucked away the card she was holding. “Right then, that one’s off the list. What about Burt Button? Such a cute name.”

“Sherriff Gates arrested him last year for indecently exposing himself.”

“Oh my God. Who to?”

“Mrs. Gilbert’s dog.”

“Ew! And he’s on Aunt Lonnie’s Christmas card list?”

“You know Mom. She believes everyone deserves a second chance. Besides, he’ll never do it again. Bingo is half blind. He thought Burt was dangling a wiener in front of him.”

“Some people just have to learn the hard way,” Connie said, replacing Burt’s card. “Ooh, what about Doc Morgan? Doctors are rich, right?”

“He’s three times my age. Literally.”

“And the problem with that is what exactly? I mean, seriously, the only thing better than marrying a rich doctor is marrying a rich old doctor.”

“Next.”

“Okay, what about Mike the mechanic? He seems nice.”

“He’s as straight as they come.”

“Oh please. We’re talking about Mulligan’s Mill. This town is gayer than Mariah Carey’s chorus line. Everywhere you turn, another straight man suddenly comes bursting out of the closet in an explosion of fairy dust and gay spray. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love living somewhere over the rainbow. All I’m saying is, if you think there are any straight men left in this town, you might wanna think again.” She pulled another card out of the box, “Oh, except for this guy. He’s totally straight. And gorgeous.”

“Who?”

“Harry from the hardware store. There’s no way he’s gay. Have you seen those biceps? Mm-mmm. I wouldn’t mind being the Christmas present under his tree this year. Can we drop his Christmas card off first? The hardware store is just around the corner. I’ll run in and give it to him myself.”

“So long as you promise to be quick. Look at all the cards in that box. It’ll take us all morning to deliver those.”

“Then there’s no time to waste. Take me to Harry!”

We pulled up outside Harry’s Hardware and Connie pushed open the squeaky passenger door with Harry’s card in hand.

“Wait,” I said, taking the box and rummaging through quickly. “You might as well take Walt’s card too, and the card for Gage and Mitch and Ginnie. They’re out of town at the moment, but Harry can hold onto their card till they get back.”

Connie seemed disappointed that she couldn’t focus solely on Harry’s delivery. “Fine,” she said, taking the cards and disappearing inside the store.

She returned twenty minutes later, looking even more despondent.

“That’s your definition of ‘quick?’”

“Maybe he is gay after all. I tried every move in the book. I gave him the card. I asked him all about his plans for the holidays. I even bought this thingamajig to stop him from serving any other customers.” She pulled a wrench out from under her jacket. “All the while I smiled and flicked my hair and pretended I was listening to what the thingamajig actually does. He didn’t so much as ask for my number. Am I losing my touch? Am I giving off the wrong signals? Am I that unattractive?”

“You’re not on Kenny Cockroach’s level if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good to know.”

As we chugged off down the road, Connie read out the names on the envelopes and we weaved our way through town. As we drove from one mailbox to the next, Connie presented more fake boyfriend options.

“What about Handy Andy the handyman?”

“He does handy jobs, not hand jobs. Soooo not my type. Bastian would never buy it.”

“What about Brooks from the bookstore?”

“No, Bastian knows that Brooks and I would never work as a couple. I told him once that I don’t own any bookmarks, I just turn down the corner of the page. He’s never looked at me the same way since.”

“What about Father Time? Wait, who the hell is Father Time?” Connie held up the card in her hand.

“He’s the town’s clockmaker, at least he used to be. Once upon a time there was a clock tower in the park, near Winnie’s Wishing Well, but it burned down decades ago. Father Time was the one who kept that clock going. Since the fire, nobody sees much of him.”

A few minutes later we pulled up at Father Time’s house, a rickety old abode on the edge of town, its shutters hanging off their hinges and the mailbox out front on a lean that seemed to defy gravity.

We sat in the car a moment before Connie asked, “So he’s like a total recluse?”

I nodded. “Pretty much. He’s completely harmless, a little on the eccentric side, but most of the time he just keeps to himself. Apparently, he has a nephew from Milwaukee who visits every now and then, but word is he’s just as eccentric as Father Time.”

“You’ve never met the nephew?”

I shook my head. “I’m not even sure what his name is. Nobody ever sees him, he just comes to make certain his uncle is okay, stocks up his pantry and fridge with food, keeps him company for a while then disappears again.”

“Well, I guess we’re not going to get any hermits or their elusive nephews to our family festivities.” Connie pushed open the passenger door and slipped Father Time’s Christmas card into his tilting mailbox. When she slid back into the passenger seat, she looked in the box and said, “That just leaves these two cards left to deliver.” She held up one. “I vote we leave Aunt Bea’s for last, that way we can warm ourselves up at the bar with an eggnog. Which means this other card is next.”

“Who’s it for?”

Connie read the name on the envelope. “Nancy Delaware.” She looked at me and I looked at her. “You don’t think that’s ‘Nancy’ Nancy, do you?”

“You mean, Aunt Susan’s Nancy? What’s the address?”

“Sixteen seventy-three Bluebird Lane. That’s out of town, right?”

I nodded. “That’s the cabin where Aunt Susan lived.”

I hadn’t been out to Aunt Susan’s cabin since I was a kid. I had memories of a small log dwelling with snow-capped metal windchimes hanging from the trees making slow, hushed melodies in the wind, while smoke drifted lazily from the stone chimney stack and sailed away into the woods.

As we pulled up in front of the cabin, I saw that nothing had changed.

Except, of course, that Aunt Susan was no longer there.

“I had no idea Mom still sent Nancy a Christmas card every year.”

Connie wiped mist off the window for a better look at the cabin. “I kinda remember my parents bringing me here. I remember it was kinda cozy.”

“I remember porcelain ducks on the wall. And not a single matching chair around the dining table. And a collection of Doris Day records. And a grandfather clock that never once chimed on time.” It suddenly dawned on me— “I think I may have got my love of all things kitsch from this place.”

“I remember all those things too. Now that you mention them.”

I paused a moment. “Should we…” I wasn’t sure whether I should ask what I started to ask.

“Should we what?”

“Should we… you know… knock on the door to give Nancy her Christmas card? In person.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“What if she asks me about my middle name? Now that I’ve changed it to Harmony.”

“Connie, what person asks another person about their middle name?”

“You don’t think it’s possible we could knock on the door and she might recognize us and say, ‘You’re Connie. You have your Aunt Susan’s name for your middle name.’ Then what am I supposed to do? Lie? I hate lying, it’s totally against my religion.”

“Oh, but making up a fake boyfriend totally gets the thumbs up from Buddha.”

“That’s different. We’re doing that to balance the chakras in the universe.”

“Oh, that’s good to know.”

“Namaste. Now just give me the damn card. I’m going to pop it in her mailbox and we’re going for eggnog. No lies, no strolls down Memory Lane, no upsetting the balance of the universe. With everything that’s going on, that applecart is wobbly enough. Okay?”

“Okay, okay, fine. I know I could sure as hell do with an eggnog myself.”

Connie got out of Sadie, slipped the card in the mailbox and we drove away, leaving the windchimes and the chimney smoke and the memory of Aunt Susan and her housemate Nancy behind.