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After that, my phone wouldn’t stop going off. I was spammed with notifications from every social media app, bogged down by an incessant stream of texts and calls, so I only lasted one day with it on. I turned it off, put it away in a drawer, and ordered myself a brand-new iPhone.
Complete with a new number.
I only gave my new number to my agent and Georgia.
And it’s so much quieter ever since.
The day before Christmas Eve, the urge to stay in bed pulls at me, but I force myself to get up.
Making my way across the room, I head into the en-suite bathroom to wash my face and fix my hair. The bags under my eyes are evidence of my lack of sleep, so I put on eye cream and try to make myself look presentable.
I don’t know why. I don’t plan on leaving the apartment today other than for my walk, but Winterberry’s Christmas Eve Ball tomorrow is on my mind.
Will everyone be getting the inn ready today? What does Nora’s dress look like?
Maybe I’ll find something to distract myself.
Maybe I’ll go to a movie or view the Rockefeller Christmas Tree.
I put Pop-Tarts in the toaster then mix eggs for scrambled eggs. I brew a cup of coffee, with sugar cookie creamer, to get in the Christmas spirit.
While I sit at the table, I look long and hard at my bare tree and decide that today will be the day I get ornaments and lights. That should take my mind off what I’m missing.
Once I’m done eating, I get dressed, lace up my sneakers, bundle up, and go for my daily walk. Once I’m on the street, I smile at everyone who passes, resulting in a few weird looks thrown my way.
I walk for as long as I can tolerate in the cold, then I hail a cab and ask the driver to drop me off at Target. Since I’ve been home, I haven’t used my driver, preferring to walk or catch a cab instead.
As soon as I get to Target, I make a beeline for the Christmas section, buying as many ornaments as I can fit in the cart and four strands of twinkle lights. Some people recognize me—good thing I brushed my hair—so I take a few pictures and sign autographs before checking out.
I went a little overboard, so I apologize to the cab driver who picks me up. The bags barely fit in his car.
When we pull up at my building, the doorman comes out to help me with my bags. He takes half while I take the other half.
“Miss Maxwell, I can come back and get the rest of these, you don’t need to carry all of that.”
“Oh, that’s okay, I don’t mind,” I say. Together, we get into the elevator and take it straight to my floor.
“Do you have any plans for Christmas, Miss Maxwell?”
“Actually, I don’t. I finally have ornaments and lights to decorate my bare tree and I’m thinking of going to the Rockefeller Tree tonight. But no other plans. How about you?”
The surprised look on his face tells me that he might not get asked about himself often. “I work in the morning here and then I will be home with my family for dinnertime.”
“I’m so sorry you have to spend the first part of the day away from them,” I tell him sincerely. I guess I never even realized that no matter what holiday it is or what day of the week it is, they’re always here to open the door and greet us.
What kind of person have I been that I never noticed?
“Oh that’s okay, Miss Maxwell, my family understands. We move our celebrations to later in the day,” he says.
What a sweet man.
It saddens me to know he’s away from his family Christmas morning, all to open the door for us. I make a mental note to order him food tonight, so he can have something special while working through the holiday.
Once we reach the top, he helps me carry the bags into the apartment. I thank him, giving him a generous tip before he heads back downstairs.
Before I start decorating, I put on a Christmas playlist from Spotify, hooking it up to my surround sound, and I find myself belting out lyrics at the top of my lungs.
Slowly, I begin to decorate, starting with the lights on the tree, and then moving onto ornaments. I chose a pink-and-silver theme, something different, with a large silver star on top of the tree.
