Page 42 of Not Another Christmas Movie

“My aunt and I would watch them together when she was doing her chemotherapy,” Nick said through a weighty sigh, like bringing back memories that were heavier than he realized.

“Oh, wow, Nick, I had no idea,” Annie said. “I’m so sorry.” Annie’s stomach turned into strings of knotted Christmas lights. She had thoughtlessly teased him, assuming him to be a sentimental nerd, as if that were even a negative notion. It made her sick and disappointed in herself for not seeing him for more.

“She’s been doing a lot better now,” Nick said, finally allowing his face to fall back into a weak smile. “But it was a longer road than the family expected. At the time, both of my parents were working and my siblings had already finished college and were living out west, so I volunteered to sit with her once a week. It was around the holidays, and she found the movies to be a comforting distraction, and I guess I did too.” Nick shrugged.

Annie’s heart tried desperately to escape her chest to try and comfort Nick. She opened her mouth, trying to formulate a coherent thought, and had to close it when she couldn’t quite articulate the feeling.

“You’re a good person, Nick,” she finally said.

“Eh,” Nick shrugged. “I’m sure anyone would have done the same thing.”

Annie doubted that. In any case, she didn’t trust her own family to have the same faith in her, given they all thought she needed to grow up and become the adult they assumed would have shown up already.

“I’m serious. Your family is so lucky to have you in it,” Annie insisted. “And I’m really glad your aunt is doing better. Does she live nearby?”

“She’s become a bit of a nomad, actually,” Nick said warmly. “She takes any opportunity now to travel and try new things. She’s been working at an animal shelter in Hawaii for the past few months.”

“I love that,” Annie smiled. “That sounds like an ideal way to spend any season to me.” Annie noticed the sound of popping had stopped and turned to the stove. “Do you think the popcorn is done?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve never actually made one of these before …” Nick studied the aluminum tin and its foil cover. “But let’s go for it.” He put on an oven mitt featuring a Santa print, balancing the container in his gloved hand. Slowly, he pulled back the foil to release the steam and tipped the popped kernels into a bowl.

“Whoa, where are you taking my popcorn?” Annie asked as Nick started to move.

“Oh, the VCR is in my room,” Nick said, looking slightly shy. “Is that too weird? I could try to move it?”

“No, no, that’s okay, I think we’re past anything being that weird here. Lead the way,” Annie said, hoping he’d stop looking at her long enough that she could blush without him seeing. She had to steady herself; a bed seemed like potentially dangerous territory.

When they got to the top of the stairs, Annie admired the elaborate decorations filling the hallway. The design of the room looked similar to the one she had woken up in, a big bed covered in a red quilt and way too many decorative pillows with snowflakes on them. There was also a Christmas tree in the corner and garlands wrapped around the headboard. In the corner, Nick had his own magical suitcase, and Annie moved closer to examine it and the ornament at the handle. Sure enough, ‘You mean snow much to me’ was scripted across a red scarf being shared by two cartoon snow people.

“I don’t get these. Why did I get the stupid math one?” Annie asked. There was something vaguely familiar about Nick’s ornament now that Annie could see it with her own eyes, but she couldn’t quite place it.

“Not all math puns are bad,” Nick said, watching Annie trying to recall when and why she had seen that decoration before. “Just sum,” Nick smiled, watching her for a reaction. “Get it? S-U-M?”

As Annie was rolling her eyes in response, she noticed that at the edge of Nick’s bed was a tiny TV with an attached VCR compartment at the bottom.

“Nick, that screen is smaller than my laptop,” Annie laughed.

“Judy Garland can fill any space.” Nick smiled.

“I can’t believe you’re making me watch a movie on that,” Annie said.

“Quiet, she’ll hear you,” Nick said, giving the TV an affectionate tap. He then handed Annie the bowl of popcorn and grabbed a few pillows. Within moments, he had set them up so they could both lie comfortably on their stomachs and watch the screen, with a pillow for the popcorn to rest on between them. “Should I see if I can find us anything to drink? And keep your expectations realistic, okay, I may only be able to offer fake Folgers coffee,” Nick warned.

“Yeah, sure,” Annie shrugged, taking her first handful of popcorn. “Oh, wow, it’s so dry and plain! I feel like I’m eating sand,” Annie cried, and Nick laughed while taking his own handful.

“Oh yeah, that’s bad,” Nick agreed, trying to remove the bowl.

“Don’t take it! I mean, I’m still obviously going to eat it. I’m just going to loudly complain about it the whole time,” Annie told him.

“Okay. Let me see if I can find anything else downstairs. Don’t start the movie without me.”

“You’ve seen it before!”

“Yeah, but I’ve never seen you watch it before!” Nick called, racing out of the room as if he were being timed. Annie’s stomach did that annoying thing where the butterflies cartwheeled and somersaulted. No, no, stop it, she begged herself.

She heard Nick cheer from downstairs, and her face broke into a smile

“What did you find?” Annie asked, standing in between the doorframe and calling out.