He poured himself a drink, turned off the lights, and flopped onto the sofa.He fixed his eyes on the fireplace and dissected their exchange.They differed in nearly every area of their lives.He was silly; she was serious.He wanted burgers; she craved sushi.He embraced carefree spontaneity; she thrived on order and control.But he loved her—or at least he thought he did.He had never said those words to another woman.She intrigued him from their first meeting.She showed no interest in his money.She didn’t even wear the award-winning products his company produced.Her apparent lack of need for him only intensified his desire.He pursued her with an intensity that secretly worried his closest friends.Looking back, he now wondered whether the thrill of the chase had clouded his judgment.
They’d exchanged vows in a small but opulent ceremony in San Francisco just a week before his thirty-ninth birthday.He'd finally rolled the dice, hoping for a soulmate—someone to share his life and help create a home.But what he’d bargained for and what he got were two very different things.Aside from the bills and the occasional evening of lukewarm sex, they didn't share much else.
He fished in his pocket for his cell phone and called the one person who would understand his pain.
"Feliz Navidad," Rob answered in a whisper.
"Why are you whispering?"Jay asked.
"Because I'm in my in-laws’ garage trying to assemble all these damn toys and I can't find a screwdriver.I don't know how Abby thinks we're gonna get all this shit back home.My kids are spoiled brats.It's ridiculous."
"And you wouldn't have it any other way," Jay replied."How are things in Texas?"
"Hardly a winter wonderland.It was like eighty degrees today.How're you?"
"I'm okay," Jay lied.
"Are you and Hope having a quiet holiday?Just the two of you?"Rob asked.
“She's on her way back to the hospital."
"So, you're alone?"
"Just me and my tree."
"I hear you've been a pretty good boy.What do you think Santa's bringing you?Maybe those new Japanese golf clubs you’ve been talking about?"Rob said, changing the subject.
Jay paused and spun his wedding ring around his finger."I'm not sure.Maybe a divorce."
A lengthy silence fell between them.Jay knew as soon as the words left his mouth that he’d started the clock on what would be a long, sleepless night.
"Can you give me five minutes?"Rob asked.
"I can give you five hours.I'm not going anywhere."
Jay ended the call and retreated to the bedroom.He stripped down to a plain white T-shirt and a pair of candy cane print boxers.He completed his ensemble with a worn-out bathrobe—one that Hope hated and had begged him to toss out for years.Screw her!
He returned to the living room and curled up on the sofa, his tired eyes locked on the fireplace again.He reached for the stereo remote and within seconds, a new voice filled the air.Twenty Holiday Hits by the Original Artists—an old CD that had been an impulse buy from a gas station years before.Rosemary Clooney's voice echoed around him, trying to convince him to have a “Merry Little Christmas”.
Oh, it’s little,he thought bitterly as he surveyed the room.Micro-fucking-scopic!
Two more songs played before his cell phone buzzed.
"Right on time," Jay answered.
"Sorry.Bad echo in the garage."
"Bullshit.You wanted a cigarette.I bet you're kicked back on a lounge chair by the pool."
"For your information, I happen to be sitting out on the front porch," Rob corrected.
"You better smoke 'em while you can.You are quitting New Year’s Day—no excuses."
"We'll see," Rob said.
"How's Abby?"Jay asked.
"Fine.She loves the new eye shadow palettes.We're going to have to add on to the house if you keep coming up with all these products.Our bathroom already looks like a department store makeup counter."
