Gilly Flower Writings

City Christmas

By Kathryn Evans

The apartment was dark and cold as Grace shoved her way in. The landlord still hadn’t fixed the damned door, which was always sticking, and now it seemed the heat was broken as well. She would have complained louder and more often if the place wasn’t so cheap to start with. You get what you pay for, she figured.

She sighed as she looked around the place. No bright lights and warm faces to welcome her as she came home. Just the cold white light of the streetlamp outside that always glared at her since she still couldn’t afford curtains. She threw her mail on the table, mostly bills, and took off her coat, a move she immediately regretted. The heat must have been off for hours because there was not the slightest hint of warmth in the air. She wanted to pull the coat back on but instead she gritted her teeth and began to remove the stained uniform that seemed to represent everything she hated at the moment. She only prayed that she could get the grease smell out of her hair.

It hadn’t always been like this. She hadn’t always lived in a cold, one bedroom apartment in a part of the city that few descant people even knew existed. She had grown up in suburban heaven. A house with a real backyard and parents who adored her and gave her everything she ever wanted. Well, almost everything. There were some things they just couldn’t give her. And so, when she was nineteen, she moved in to the city ‘to find herself’. She got her own place and a job as a waitress and she made friends easily. She would go out partying every night and thought she was living the ideal life, the life everyone thinks they want. Soon, though, all the parties seemed to run together, the same people night after night getting drunk and passing out. She got sick of waking up hung over and so she stopped drinking, but found that her ‘friends’ weren’t nearly as interesting when she was the only sober one in the room. She drifted away and found herself spending more nights at home alone. This wasn’t exactly the fabulous life she had expected to find when she came to the city.

Now, after a very hot shower, thank God the water still worked, she sat and watched her sad little Christmas tree. It was only about the three feet high and the branches were more on the sparse side. She didn’t have any ornaments only a single string of colored lights that twinkled with a much warmer hue than the cold streetlamp outside.

This was Grace’s first Christmas alone. She couldn’t afford to go home and she would rather die before asking her parents for money or letting them know how unhappy she was. So she had said that she was simply too busy to make it home this year, but that she would try and call on Christmas day.

She got up and started turning on some more lights, in the hope that it might at least seem warmer. She was wearing the flannel pajamas that her mother had got her last year, as well as two pairs of socks, a wool sweater, and one of the blankets off her bed. She idly considered her gloves and ear muffs in the front entryway.

It was starting to snow outside, thick white flakes drifting lazily through the dark sky. Soon the streets would be covered, but that wouldn’t stop the city from moving. People would just bundle up tighter and trudge through, never letting the signs of nature infringe on their lives.

Grace opened her refrigerator and then wondered why she even bothered because she already knew what was in there. Not very much. Some leftovers from work, a jar of peanut butter, a half-empty gallon of low-fat milk. She closed the door and went back to watching her tree. She couldn’t really decide if the tree was more comforting or depressing, but at least it was something to do.

There was a knock at the door, which made her jump a little. She got up and said, “Who is it?”

“Your favorite neighbor,” came the reply and she opened the door.

Charlie lived across the hall from her and was probably somewhere in his thirties, but looked so worn down it was hard to tell. It seemed he was always intoxicated in some way or another. Whether it was beer or drugs, reality was not something Charlie liked to deal with very often. If possible, he didn’t even really like to admit that it existed.

“I dig the toga look,” said Charlie, noting her blanket wrap.

“What do you want, Charlie? It’s late.”

“Oh, there just some people hanging out over at my place and we thought maybe you might want to come over. And, you know, if you had anything to drink, you could bring that over, too.” This was Charlie's oh-so-subtle way of asking if she had any booze.

“Sorry, I’m out of beer right now. Maybe some other time.”

“Oh,” said Charlie, his shoulders slumping slightly in disappointment. “Well, you could still come hang out if you want.” He didn’t sound quite so convincing now that there was no chance of alcohol.

“Some other time,” said Grace as she closed the door.

She checked her phone but there were no messages, not that she expected any. She began sifting through the mail on the table and stopped in amazement when she found an envelop with a handwritten address, not just another bill. There was no return address so she just opened it and pulled out the card. A small, wallet sized picture fell out. It was one of those professional portraits of a pretty blond woman with a man who was obviously her husband, and between them was a small baby dressed in a Christmas suit.

Grace opened the card and read the note inside. ‘Hey, got your address from your mom. Wanted to show you the family, isn’t Tyler getting big? Hope you have a good Christmas and come home to visit soon. – Julie.’

Julie had been one of Grace’s best friends in highschool, but they had lost touch when Grace moved to the city. She had made it back for Julie’s wedding, but hadn’t even seen the baby yet. Grace still couldn’t believe that Julie had such a real life as to be a mother.

She took the card and stood it up on the table beside her tree and propped the picture next to it. The colored lights cast a glow and Julie’s smile seemed a little brighter. Grace thought it was a little warmer inside.