Christmas Eve by Huey Boyd

“We’re about to close.” The bartender said firmly. It was then that I arose, I must have been away for a while. Baffling, isn’t it? So much can go by when you’re out. It’s always been so perplexing to me how one moment can be gone in an instant, and something as minor as sleep can take so much away from you in what feels like seconds. Because it certainly felt like seconds to me. I’d only been here for a few minutes. Hadn’t I? Through dazed eyes I glanced at my watch: 10:00pm. Holy shit I thought. I had been here far longer than anticipated. The bartender, with his burly, brutish figure and middle-aged moustache dancing in the dim orange light of the pub, stared at me to leave. I looked around, seeing the place all but empty aside from one man who looked like he was about to pass out. It was then that I figured I’d better make good on the bartender’s word.

I grabbed what was left of my cash and sauntered out into the street. Immediately I felt the piercing daggers of dropped temperatures seize me. I had neglected to bring a jacket. Of course. How stupid of me. The snow wasn’t avalanching down, but it was still a decent amount of descent for a winter night. I saw the neon sign of the bar swiftly go black. They really were closed. I glanced at their opening times. They wouldn’t normally shut this late. Then I remembered: Christmas Eve.

People do have family; I thought to myself. And that man was certainly old enough to have fathered at least 3 children. So, it was imperative that the bar shut, was it not? Yes. It must be. I could practically hear the sleighbells ringing in my head. The ground gravelled under my feet as I picked myself up and halted along the sidewalk. The city was still very much alive, even for Christmas Eve. You don’t normally see this in the movies.

If I watch a Christmas movie, they always portray cities as desolate and quiet as a mouse on Christmas Eve. The festive activities bring themselves to a halt, yet the Christmas lights stay on in order to play into the next day. It’s wonderful, really. I never took the time to appreciate it sometimes. At least, not while they were here. But nowadays, it seems as if I appreciate it more than ever. It’s small, yes. But it’s still interesting how the little things are all that seem to matter to me these days . The city, however, from what I saw, was still somewhat quiet. Not a lot of people were out at 10pm on Christmas Eve. I mean, why would they be? It was as I walked that I patted myself down and fished around my furry leather coat for a cigarette. To my luck, I found the box, but horror gripped my face when I saw I had only one more left. My Christmas lighter presented itself in my hand a few seconds later, and with one move, I lit up the bastard like a Christmas tree.

The alcohol in my system didn’t seem to do much, I could barely feel anything. That’s why the smoke felt invigorating as I breathed it through. It traveled all the way down my lungs and when I exhaled that glorious vapour, I couldn’t help but feel comforted. It was perplexing to me how something so little could comfort someone so large. The cigarette wasn’t even sentient and it was like it had embraced me in a misty hug. I loved it. Christmas Eve the right way. This was the way to do it.

It was just a shame I was alone. I didn’t like being alone, not at the time at least. But I had my cigarette. And that was what I needed tonight. Santa Claus couldn’t bring me anything I wanted, so I may as well rely on what’s in my grasp right now. I walked down the street, taking additional drags as I looked around at the enormous Christmas tree in the city centre. I never thought a Christmas tree in the middle of town hall would have been a necessity, but it really captured the spirit of the night. It was lit up magnificently, and I actually had to close my eyes momentarily in order to comprehend the intensity of the bulbs. The tinsel glowed and sparkled in the moonlight, the star on top a golden ray of hope. And the red and gold ornaments stood out like a healed thumb. No, not a sore thumb. Nothing is sore on Christmas Eve. At least, not to me. I took another drag to stop myself from crying. It was beautiful, it really was. The carolers in front of the tree collected the drops of snow, their hymns of yuletide carols bringing a sense of joy to my heart. I took another drag, breathing out comfortably as I moved closer to the Christmas tree.

The pine branches nudged me slightly as I touched them, almost as if they were slapping my cigarette away. I did not care if it did, though. It was Christmas Eve, and for the trees, this was their night. I delicately walked around the tree, the red and white banner below it to keep it safe completing the feeling of Christmas Eve.I could still hear the carollers, but the songs they were singing had become all but inaudible. I still raked my hands slowly across the pines of the tree, feeling the soft touch of the baubles as I completed my lap around the tree. I held my cigarette in my mouth as I looked to my left. A homeless man, no older than sixty, was laying fast asleep with a flask emptied next to him. My heart sank for him, as I saw his moneybox of donations was empty. It was preposterous. When he wakes up the next morning, he’ll have nothing. No family, no turkey, and nopresents. The city will barely be operating, and the snow, based on the rate it was going now, will have completely claimed the street as its own. This poor man would be covered in a blanket of sadness, white only to be stained with his bloodshed tears.

Christmas could be a dark time of year; I hoped I knew that for myself. It brought so much joy yet so much sadness. I had a home to go back to. I had food. I had water. And I would hope I have presents. But this man? Nothing. I looked down at my cigarette, the smoke was still filling my lungs. When I was done with this, I was going to toss it out, never to be seen again. The man would probably find it someday, in an ash-filled bin with juice leaking out of it. He’d try and smoke it, only to see it was burned down to the stub. My tears began to well up, I took the cigarette out of my mouth and breathed out more smoke. I gazed at it, looking back at the homeless man momentarily. I saw he was seated outside a small store, one that didn’t seem to have closed yet.

I left the packet outside of his flask, with a small red ribbon I had left over. He had to have a present, I couldn’t let him rummage through the trash for my cigarette. It was preposterous. He deserved his own. I saw that he had been keeping day-to-day diaries of what life had been like. I didn’t read them, obviously. But I could already tell – he’d been through enough this year. It was at this time that I sat myself in front of the Christmas tree. The carollers by this point had dispersed. I watched out for any sign of a cab driving by. The freezing temperatures were growing, and I knew I had to get home soon. I barely had enough time to comprehend the branches digging into my head when I signaled for a dingy, yet ultimately ell-dressed, cab. I picked myself up and walked over to it, climbing inside and shivering momentarily. You know that feeling when you’ve been cold for so long, and when you enter the warm premises of a second location it feels like all the cold shakes off instantly? It was a bit like that. The cab driver, I saw, was a timid woman in her twenties. Twenties? What was she doing driving a guy like me around on Christmas Eve? She turned to me, her bright red lipstick brighter than the ornaments on the tree.

“Where to?” She asked. She had her blonde hair tied back neatly in a ponytail, with a festive decorative shirt and a bobblehead snowman on the dashboard. I wanted to say how much I adored her Christmas spirit, how much she had impressed me by wearing a festive shirt, how much I appreciated her for stopping and picking me up, how selfless it was of her to drive me back home when she could be doing so many better things. But all that ended up coming out were simple instructions: “Oxford Street”, I said. “Around the middle.” She nodded her head and switched gears, and the cab took off slower than I walked. The woman paid little attention to me, rightfully so. It was late and she had to drive through snow. The car didn’t swerve, nor did it even fully speed up. It paced nicely through the streets, making small turns with the woman being careful not to slip on a pitch of black ice that we passed.

I gazed out of the frozen window, not being able to see much but the dim glow of Christmas lights and the small glow of public transport moving past us. I thought of them, you know. I thought of where they were now, and what they’d be doing. It brought tears to my eyes, but I was careful not to show it. I’m a relatively decent looking guy, and this driver was very attractive, so I decided not to show any form of weakness. She looked in the rear-view mirror, watching me gaze out the window. “You okay?” She asked me. I turned to her, surprised she wanted to start conversation. “Oh, yes. I’m fine, darling. Thank you.”

What was wrong with me? Who says that? I was almost about to jump out of the car when she smiled at me. Her teeth were gleaming white, cleaner than the snow. “Long night, huh?” She asked me. “No, not really. I’ve been asleep for most of it. Bars tend to do that to me.” The woman laughed. “Oh, it is Christmas Eve though. I’ve been around a few of them myself tonight.” I laughed back. “Should you really be driving, then?”

The woman looked back, straight at me through the rearview mirror. “I only got this job a month ago. You really think I’d drink and drive on my first Christmas Eve shift?” I raised my hands to emphasize the quality of the point. “What brings you out tonight, anyway?” I asked. My heart skipped a beat, I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous before. “Oh,” she said, “just needed the cash. It’s good money, the holidays. Especially this time of night.” She made a money motion with one of her hands, I laughed at it.

“Fair enough. I bet it’s better at this time anyway. There’s less chaos. Everyone’s tucked away. You don’t have to deal with a lot of people.” The woman looked back at me through the mirror. “Yeah, it’s nice. I like it, I do.” I suddenly remembered I had no cigarettes when I started to pat myself down. The woman glanced at me, and through the mirror I could see myself looking over my body. I saw her reach into the glovebox next to her. Keeping one hand on the wheel, she grabbed something and threw it backwards, and it magically landed right in the seat next to me. I looked to my left and saw: a pack of cigarettes, the exact same pack I always buy for myself. I looked at her through the mirror. “I get a little dry sometimes.” She said, winking at me. I laughed, taking the pack and placing it inside my jacket. I considered lighting one up but was having too much fun. It was those moments that made the journey back to Oxford street feel like more than it was. I had so much more questions to ask her when she pulled up to my apartment block. There’s a reason I told her the middle. I stepped out and walked around to the window, looking over my pockets for any form of cash. She stared at me, obviously awaiting the money.

I told her to bear with me, and she didn’t push. Honestly, she really was a sweetheart. Finally, after what felt like all of Christmas, I found my wallet and discovered all but 20 dollars in there. I flashed it to her. “No worries, it’s more than I’ve gotten from other guys tonight.” I giggled. I handed her the money and she shoved it neatly into a little box that she had near the dashboard. She looked back up at me. I smiled. “Merry Christmas.” She said. That was when I panicked. I had to ask it. It was a need at this point. I needed to. Come on! I shouted at myself, in my head obviously

Do it! She’s about to drive off! This is your chance! It’s Christmas Eve! And then the words came out of me like vomited eggnog. “What’s your name?” I said it so suddenly. I’d scared her, I knew it. But surprisingly, she turned her head back to me and turned the car off when I asked. She smiled, fluttering her eyes a little.“Annabelle. My name is Annabelle.” It was such a pretty name. To be honest, it suited her. She carried that name. If I had to think of a name that suited her appearance, I’d probably think Annabelle. That was when I had to build my courage up again. Luckily, this time, it didn’t take as long as I thought. “Annabelle, would you perhaps like to drive me home again, some time? Or maybe, drive us both to dinner sometime after Christmas?” Annabelle giggled. It was a flirtatious giggle, one that made me excited. “You’re smooth, I like that.” She looked out to the road, probably trying to see if she’d be able to answer my question quickly. I’m sure she had other places to be.

“You know what? I used to live around here. I’ll remember this address. Unless you’re planning on moving, of course.” I could feel the wink she gave me. Normally I’d wink. I’m terrible at chatting up girls. This is the first time it’s ever gone smoothly. “No, not any time soon.” I replied. She chuckled and smiled. “I’ll come back after New Years. Is that okay?”“Perfect.” Annabelle flashed her gleaming snow-white teeth at me before she rolled up her window. The engine blasted as she indicated out of my street and turned the corner away from Oxford Street. I remember staring at the taxi as it drove around the corner and disappeared into Christmas Eve.The snow was falling faster now, and I snapped out of my musings about Annabelle when I felt the drops on my head. I could see my breath, that’s how cold it was getting.

Before I turned my key to return to my Christmas cave, I thought of what this night had brought me. Normally, on Christmas Eve, I’d be thinking of them. I’d be stone-cold drunk, with five packs of cigarettes gone. I’d normally end up waking in the hospital Christmas Day. But they’d never be there. I’d fool myself into thinking they would be, but I knew at the end of the day it was impossible. But now, it seemed like I was actually going to be better this Christmas Eve.

I thought of Annabelle, I was already awaiting her return in January. She said she’d remember me. Bless her heart. She was a sweetheart. I turned my key in the door and sauntered back inside, closing the door on this bitterly sweet and cold Christmas Eve. And I already knew that if this was a movie, this would be the moment where the camera slowly zoomed away from my house and up into the sky, perhaps playing the song ‘Christmas Lights’ by Coldplay. I love that song. You know what? I’m putting it on when I get inside. I might fall asleep to it, actually.

Merry Christmas, Annabelle. Merry Christmas, my dear sleeping friend.

And Merry Christmas, at last... to me.