Last Christmas As Miss Novels & Stories

Confused, she looked at the Christmas tree and at me and Isa and screeched, “fuck don’t tell me I missed Christmas? Smitty, you let me miss Christmas?” Smitty made his way into the living room where we all were muttering in a humored slur, “woman your high ass the one missed Christmas, don’t blame dat’ shit on me! You the one kept smokin’ and trickin’ not me; all I do is watches you and the money. Now go take a shower and get yourself together we hitting up the Hyatt tonight, it's money to be made.” Mama looked pitiful and shamed, she stared at the makeshift Christmas tree crying, shaking her head.

I learned to be thankful and quiet. That acceptance made me hate Christmas. Love songs made my skin crawl. The lights under our tree looked like glass eyes. The ribbons on the presents were traps. Every year, the house tuned itself to cheer and I pretended to enjoy it. The twenty-fifth became the night when a new kind of cold touched my bones. It was the day the truth had crawled out at me like an animal. It was the day I had learned how much of my life had been decided by other hands.

When we reached my villa, I opened her door for her. We stepped inside and she looked around but said nothing. She was too numb. I guided her to the couch. “Sit,” I murmured. She did. I sat beside her, close enough to keep her warm from the cold. She left without a sweater.. damn. “Lisa,” I said quietly, “there’s something you need to know.” Her eyes lifted slowly to mine. “There’s a Christmas fashion show being hosted on the twenty-third,” I said. “A huge one. High security. VIP only. The world watches it every year.”

Maybe if she waited until Wednesday, a few more sales would come through and she could mail them all at the same time. The door chimed and a local couple she knew from church came in. “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Howard. How are you?” Memory went about helping Mrs. Howard find a gift for her niece, trying not to let her father’s news about the new B and B keep her from enjoying the holiday spirit. Christmas really was the most wonderful time of the year, even if this one felt a little off without Grandma Helen. She put a smile on her face and got to work, glad to stay busy to keep her mind off of what she’d lost.

she finally admitted. Mariah blinked. "Going where?" Laila shot her a look. "Don't play dumb. You know where." Mariah's mouth slowly spread into a grin. "Ohhh. So y'all are really going to Jordan's place tomorrow." Laila's shoulders rose. "Yes." Amelia's expression softened, her voice gentle. "Christmas Eve." "Christmas Eve," Laila echoed, like the words tasted strange. Mariah kicked one heel against the comforter. "Okay. That's kind of… a lot."

"You shouldn't. Lana is absolutely fine, nothing is going to happen to her so stop worrying dear" "I hope so. When is her Christmas party coming up" "Its on the 25th by 12 noon" First lady Samantha said, giving her husband a gentle smile. "I'll have to double the security at the venue, I wouldn't want there to be any trouble" "There won't be any problem Freddie, you worry too much" "She's our only child Sam, I've got to protect her with everything I have" the President said, lightly tapping his fingers on the table.

In the end, I couldn't bear to let Noelle spend the last Christmas Eve of her life filled with regret. I searched through every office on the entire floor and finally found a female doctor about the same height as Ivana. I begged her to pretend to be Ivana. An hour later, the doctor appeared beside Noelle's bed, wearing a Santarina costume borrowed from somewhere on the street. She was holding Noelle's favorite doll. Noelle cried tears of happiness. "I knew Mommy wouldn't abandon me." I covered my mouth and pulled Noelle tightly into my arms. A nurse took a picture of our final moment together. In the end, Noelle died on that snowy Christmas Eve.

She put the matter out of her mind, yet was still worried about it. A few days would now bring Christmas upon them. The Tellaros accompanied by Mrs Andromeda and Miss Mamala, were to travel into Latina, to Clement, upon the twenty third of December, and every moment before their departure seemed to Miss Tellaro to be occupied in writing graceful notes of acknowledgement for the shower of gifts that descended upon her. The most elegant trifles were sent for acceptance. She was in despair, half-inclined to return them all, but dissuaded from it by her chaperon, who inspected each offering with the strictest regard for propriety, and pronounced all to be in the best of taste, quite unexceptiona

I would give my all to trade places with him, to have a shot of that eternity with her. While looking at Sinclair, memories of the past all played in my mind like a CD. It was Cassandra wearing a Santa Claus’ costume early in the morning, mischief was dancing in her eyes, as she greeted me a loud ‘Merry Christmas’. Before that, she filled the house with Christmas tree, with glittering lights, gifts, and who could forget about the socks she hung all over the living room? All the socks had handwritten letters in them for me and Nick about the reasons why she loved us. And then she read them in front of us while blushing.