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Winter
The energy exchangebetween a live audience and the players onstage was elevated for me when I actually knew someone sitting in those chairs. It heightened my nerves a little, giving me an extra dose of adrenaline before my first entrance. That jolt was usually a good thing. I’d be more focused on my lines; if I’d been getting into a rut with my delivery, they’d be fresh again. The excitement always elevated my performance.
Tonight, Jackson was in the audience, warming one of those seats. I’d played it so cool earlier, never admitting that although I’d run in different circles than he did in high school, I’d still thought he was hot. And age had only heightened his rugged smile. The lines around his eyes added a worldly knowledge that his younger self hadn’t possessed.
But there was a shadow lurking in the back of my mind that I hadn’t been willing to face before. Now I was standing centerstage, showing Ebeneezer Scrooge the shadows from his past, and tonight, it was hitting a little too close to home.
My past was a place didn’t like to visit. It was filled with rejection and unanswered questions. And more rejection was in my future if I allowed this infatuation with Jackson grow.
I returned Scrooge back to his bedroom as my scene came to an end and ducked into the wings. The stage crew shifted the scene for the Ghost of Christmas Present to take over and the assistant director crossed to my side.
“Nicely done tonight, Winter.”
“Thanks.” I turned to Josh with a smile. He was couple years older than me, but we’d gone on a few dates back in high school. He’d graduated, left Salem for Julliard, and I…stayed here. At the time, it hadn’t just been the lack of money holding me back. By my senior year in high school, my powers were controllingme,instead of the other way around. I could’ve killed someone if I got too upset back then. I kept freezing things when I touched them. I didn’t understand what was happening, and the more my fear grew, the stronger the power became until I was icing things with a glance like I did to Jackson’s stool the day we met.
Lillian and the Coven of Light had saved me from myself, but it had taken a few years. By the time I felt confident enough to stand on my own, I had bills to pay, and college faded into a lost dream. When Josh came back to Salem and took over the theater department at the community college, we’d gone on another date, but the chemistry wasn’t there.
Josh hurried off to wrangle the little kids to hide underneath the Ghost of Christmas Present’s robe, and I went to the prop table to drop off my sparkly wand. I wouldn’t be back onstage until the end of the show, so I headed for my dressing room.
I fished my phone out of my duffel bag and smiled. There were two text messages from Jackson.
I’m fifth row, center stage.
I was glad I hadn’t known that before I went out for my first entrance. I probably wouldn’t have been able to see him with the spotlight in my eyes anyway, but still.
Another text popped up.
This other ghost has nothing on you!
I laughed and rolled my eyes.
And there was that inescapable truth again. I sighed and set my phone aside.
I wasn’t his mate.
Did it really matter though? We just met officially yesterday. It wasn’t like we were a couple. But the more comfortable we got together, sending texts and laughing, it would just get harder to hide from the fact that he was a werewolf, and I knew from Ruby that they mated for life. One mate chosen by fate to be the other half of their soul.
Super romantic, until he touched you skin to skin and nothing happened.
Last night, when I’d confessed feelings that I’d never given voice to before, about adoptions falling through and being returned to foster care multiple times, he’d reached over and squeezed my hand. That simple touch had been like my cold heart had been zapped with defibrillation paddles. And for a second, he had looked a little dazed too.
But there were no romantic declarations, and the night ended without so much as a chaste kiss on the cheek. Now I sat in my dressing room giggling over his texts like I was back in high school, but somewhere out there was a woman who would be his one true love for life.
And it wasn’t me.
I needed to get a grip. I stashed my phone again and spruced up my stage make-up before I headed for the wings again. I got there just as the final ghost made his entrance. The lighting for this scene was stark and the fog machine was pumping out billows of haze to further add to the spookiness of the moment.
This story had forever bound Dickens to the Christmas season. For many people in the audience, they came to see this production every year. This was my fifth year as the Ghost of Christmas Present, but I’d alerted Josh this would be my final season.
The holidays were a strange time of year for me. I felt like an outsider looking in. Most people had happy family memories of holidays stuffed full of traditions and favorite gifts. And mine weren’t all bad. My recent years of closing night performances of A Christmas Carol were fun. We’d have secret Santa gift exchanges and plenty of hot chocolate and candy canes.
But most of the time, it brought back feelings of emptiness and being unwanted and forgotten. My gifts were constant reminders that I didn’t have parents. Bright colored packages with blank tags. Sometimes a foster mom would scribble my name beside the “to” spot and scrawl “Santa” below with no idea which donated toy was inside.
No warm and fuzzy memories for me.
At least this Christmas Eve I would have a ritual with my coven sisters to look forward to. Lillian and Ruby were already gathering the necessary tools we would need to free the magic from the witchfinder broach that Lillian had bought at the estate sale, and under the full moon, we’d render the tool useless for anyone who might want to use it to hurt us. It gave me something to focus on.
Besides trying to catch a glimpse of Jackson in the fifth row.
