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A Christmas miracle
Her flight touched down in Flagstaff in the dead of night.A window seat provided a glimpse at the silence of a sleeping city as the plane descended, the twinkling lights of town foreshadowing the fact that Gia was “home” for Christmas. Not that it was her home—there wasn’t a location or dwelling that she considered home. A side effect of a mobile childhood, she supposed. She knew people who had fond memories of a house or town or friendships formed over popsicles and banana-seat bicycles. People who enjoyed time travelling to see old haunts, old friends, aging family. Gia didn’t have those memories. Or those desires. Maybe if she did, she wouldn’t have continued her mother’s tradition of location hopping. Maybe if she did, she’d be more excited about the holidays.
Shewasexcited to leave the confines of a hard, small airplane seat and breathe fresh air. The man next to her on the connecting flight from Phoenix drank three scotch and sodas while he answered emails on his laptop. He reeked of moss and brine and acted sober. Gia wondered how much one had to regularly imbibe to put back three drinks in an hour and seem unimpacted. She’d never been able to pass as sober when she wasn’t—three drinks in and it’d show. At least he’d left her alone with her thoughts, which swirled in a trifecta of turmoil: how to tell Jennifer about Emily, why her mom was so insistent on a holiday reunion, and Roxi. Always, Roxi.
As she waited in the aisle to disembark, overnight bag tossed over her shoulder, Gia watched a mother coax her children into moving faster. A couple snuggled in their row—not in a hurry, and seemingly happy to be together. Her seatmate had shifted to answering emails on his phone. Strangers who would never see each other again had shared time and space for unique reasons none would know.
Since she’d met Emily, Gia’d been consumed by the wonderment of why people meet when they do. Why they part. And if the magic of a faded relationship could be rekindled. Could two people—separated for sixty years—find the same spark they’d had in younger bodies, with younger minds?
“Miss?” A finger tapped her shoulder. “Miss?”
“Oh, sorry.” She’d spaced out in the aisle, as if she weren’t even there.
Too much to think about had never been a good thing for Gia, who’d turn overwhelm into escapism via her vices, but there was no escaping this time. Her old habits were just that—old.
One foot in front of the other, Gia found her way to the arrivals pickup curb and stood amongst others sending texts and craning necks to find their rides. Just as she’d promised, and right on time, her mother pulled up in a shiny Honda and flashed the high beams in a light show of love when she saw her daughter.
“Hi Ma,” Gia said as she tossed her bag into the backseat.
“Hi, doll. I’m so glad you came.” Gianna smiled wide and grabbed Gia’s hand when she settled into her seat.
“Are you clean?” From where Gia sat, it was a fair question at any time of day, but especially at midnight.
“Pssht. Why would you ask that?” Gianna waved her off, as if Gia’d asked her if she were running for president or considering a solo trek across the desert by foot.
The distinct sound of Kenny G playing Silent Night provided the soundtrack, and a pine-scented air freshener failed to cover the smell of Pall-Mall inside the sedan. Some things just couldn’t be masked.
“You know why. Do I need to drive?” Gia searched for answers in her mother’s eyes. They looked clear. And a lot like her own—golden, with little black flecks. The only difference was the deep-set crow’s feet around the edges. Gia was looking into her future.
“No, doll. I haven’t had a drink in a week, matter of fact. I gave it up for Jesus.” Gianna nodded, as if she were trying to convince herself.
“For Jesus?”
“Yes. I stopped drinking for Christmas, so I could enjoy our time together and remember it. Smell my breath if you want to.”
As far as Gia knew, giving things up for Christmas wasn’t a thing. It wasn’t like Lent, but if Gianna decided Jesus told her to quit drinking for Christmas, so be it.
“I’m not smelling your breath. Can we just go?”
“Yes! And I can’t wait for you to see what Santa brought.”
What the hell? She wasn’t eight anymore. But Gia’d play along and get to the bottom of why she was in Flagstaff—aside from guilt.
???
What Santa brought was a guest room in her mom’s new rental house—no more RV, no more RV park. Gianna had been working as a receptionist at a dentist’s office since she’d returned from her short stint in Colorado. She’d found her calling, she said. And she made enough money to move out of the RV and into a home on a permanent foundation. She finally had a guest room and was eager to have a guest.
Gia awoke to more Kenny G holiday music—Gianna’s favorite—and clicked her phone to check the time. She didn’t have anywhere to be, but panic that she’d overslept set in. Ordinarily, it would be a workday.
In the kitchen, Gianna was poaching eggs and humming along to a saxophone rendition of Jingle Bells.
“Morning.” Gia rubbed her eyes and stood, unsure what to do next. They hadn’t had this experience in a while—both sober, in a full-sized kitchen, on a holiday. It was a mind bender.
“Merry Christmas! There’s coffee in the pot. Sleep okay?” Gianna didn’t look up from her eggs.
“Yeah.” Gia nodded and poured a generous amount of cream into the bottom of a mug before filling it to the brim with coffee. She’d taken to Roxi’s way of drinking café con leche.
“I thought we could take a drive today. To the Grand Canyon? And then have a nice dinner tonight. I’ve already made the lasagna. Just need to heat it up.”
