The Geek Who Saved Christmas

Does anyone have any spare rock salt? We’re out, and I need to get out early in the morning! ~Cheryl Bridges posted to the What’s Up Neighbor app

Gideon

“Did you miss me?” Predictably, the cat didn’t answer, although Butterscotch did nose at the tuna treats Paul had put in my stocking. I’d lined up the treats on the large cat tree in my office where Butterscotch tended to hang out. He didn’t seem to care much that I hadn’t been around. He’d been happy enough to come when I set out fresh food and water, and he tolerated some head scratches now, but otherwise, he stayed aloof as ever.

I’d adopted him around the time I bought my house, thinking I was giving a home to an animal who needed me, but Butterscotch needed precious little beyond food and his robotic litter box emptied.

Maybe there was a lesson there. The things I was so sure needed me really were self-sufficient. And okay, Paul wasn’t a grouchy cat, but the feeling that he was merely indulging me lingered. I still wasn’t sure whether I’d invited myself along for their Christmas or whether he’d kept me around out of pity. Regardless, I wasn’t going to insert myself in the rest of Brandon’s visit, nor was I about to offer wedding help. Especially not without Paul asking.

Because, like with the cat, Paul might not need me, but I sure as hell needed him, and I hated that feeling. The trudge over to my house had never seemed longer or colder. He’d packed me off with leftovers and a hearty thanks for my help, and I shouldn’t have felt so empty, but I did.

This sucks. I took myself and my morose mood back downstairs, where the sight of my tree made everything worse. Was I ever going to see my decorations again without immediately thinking of Paul and that hot-as-fuck make-out session in front of my tree?

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and it spoke to how desperate I was for distraction that I pulled it out. It was Lori, not one of my parents with our semi-annual stilted greeting, so I went ahead and answered, making my tone as cheery as I could.

“Hey there. How goes Florida?”

“Good.” Lori’s voice was warm and welcome. “Kids are having a blast. Tomorrow is Disney.”

“Wow. They must be bouncing off the walls. Surprised you had a minute to call me.” I smiled to myself. Most of my relatives hadn’t bothered to do more than text this year, so it was nice Lori had thought of me. “You must have been missing my superior mashed potato skills at dinner.”

“Oh, you.” She laughed. “We ordered the whole dinner in advance as takeout. No cooking for anyone, but I’ll always have time for you. You know you’re family to us, even if we’re not together this year.”

“Thanks.” My tree twinkled in front of me, memories less sharp now.

“And I want to hear all about your day. But don’t let me forget that I’m also calling about a little favor.”

“Oh?” I should have known. And as usual, I was happy to be of service, but I couldn’t help my small sigh. It would have been nice had she been calling simply to check on me. “How can I help?”

“I saw on the news how cold it’s going to get there. Can you stop by tomorrow, check our faucets and basement, make sure nothing burst or froze?”

“Absolutely.” I nodded to my empty living room. The wind had already been howling when I’d made my way home. No snow, but a bitter chill.

“Thank you. You’re the best.” There was a clicking sound on her end. Probably a pen as she crossed that item off her to-do list. “I figured you’d be heading out to the clearance sales anyway.”

“Maybe not this year.” I flopped onto my couch. I couldn’t think of one item I needed or wanted that might be at a store, and even the thrill of a bargain held no appeal.

“What? No shopping?” Lori scoffed. “Where is the real Gideon?”

“Here. I’m fine.” My voice didn’t sound the finest, but maybe if I said it enough times, I’d start believing it. “I just need to focus on packing everything away.”

“Ooh.” She drew the word out all knowingly, but there was a certain long-standing sympathy there too. “Your annual post-holiday slump. Happens every year.”

“Yeah.” That wasn’t it either, but it was easier to agree than to explain my jumbled-up thoughts. And I did always get down after the holidays were through and the dark winter marched on with spring seeming so far off, but my current mood wasn’t the sort of thing light therapy or other self-care could cure.

“Leave the decorations up,” Lori advised, voice gentle. “They make you happy. You can wait through New Year’s, at least.”

“Nah. Better get them packed up. No sense in drawing it out.” An image of Paul popped into my head. That was why I’d returned home rather than linger after the cleaning was through. Walking away was going to hurt regardless, but better to get it over with, and certainly better than having to wait for them to start dropping subtle hints.

“It’s Christmas decorations, Gideon. Not a tax extension.” Lori gave a long-suffering chuckle, the sort only someone who’d known me this long and well could get away with. “And you’re a grown adult. If you want to eke out a little more joy from the season, do it. There will be time enough to put things away, and if you leave the lights up, well, you’ll hardly be the only one.”

“Yeah.” I agreed because it was easier than arguing, but inside, my mind was whirring. Should I have grabbed a little more happiness with Paul? Stored up a few more good memories? Hell, maybe I should have volunteered wedding help after all. Maybe Lori was right, and it would be better to have more nice times to look back on. There’d be plenty of time to part awkwardly later.

“Worried about the neighbors complaining?” Lori interrupted my musing, and I had to blink a couple of times, come back to the present conversation.

“What?” I shook my head. “Oh. The lights. No.”

“Ah. I think I understand now.” Lori’s tone was warmer now, more conspiratorial. “You struck out with the hot neighbor? Didn’t have the right silver-fox bait after all?”