Page 2 of A Man for the Holidays

I place my bag over my shoulder then start walking home when I hear the man call after me by name. I stop walking and turn around, then walk back over to him.

“How do you know my name?” I ask.

“I overheard Olivia say it earlier,” he says.

“What do you want from me Mr. …?”

“Oh, forgive me, my name is Newton. John Newton.”

He holds out his hand, and I look down at it before angling my head back to him and say, “Spencer, but you know that already,” then I reach out and shake his hand.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Spencer. Now tell me, what exactly you’re doing out here staring at mannequins in a shop window.”

“You… you wouldn’t understand. It’s just a crazy… no, forget it. Forget I said anything.”

“No, please Spencer. Tell me.”

I give him a questioning look, then turn my head to the window, then back at him and say, “That.”

“What?”

“You asked me what I’m doing here. Well, to tell you the truth, that’s the reason I’m here every night.”

He looks at me and then at the window, and I see the look of confusion on his face as he replies, “Ah, you want the clothes, right?”

“No… not exactly.”

“Oh?”

“Never mind. You just wouldn’t understand, and you’ll think I’m a psychotic lunatic.”

“Try me,” he says.

I let out a long breath I had no idea I was even holding in, then I stare at Quinn, and I see the smile on his face before looking back at John.

“Him. I want him––Quinn. I want a man, to be with, to shop with, to sleep with, you know all the fun stuff that people do together. I want to be happy, like everyone else.”

“You know something funny; I think I’ve heard this somewhere before.”

“Oh?” I question.

“Yeah. Except the way I know it, it’s about a little girl who wants a mom for the holidays.”

“Okay…” I say, drawing the word out.

“So, you want this mannequin. What did you say his name was?”

“Quinn.”

“You want Quinn, for the holidays, right? Starting from tonight at midnight, until midnight Christmas Eve, correct?”

“No, I never said for how long… I mean, he’s just a statue.”

“Well, I can’t promise you forever. But what if I said you could have him until the end of the holidays?”

Okay, now he has my attention, but hold on a second, now this is all starting to sound very familiar, even to me.

“See, I told you this was a bad idea, now you’re just making fun of me. How can you possibly give me Quinn for the holidays? He isn’t real, and this isn’t a movie, and I don’t see a magic wand or a lamp in your hand that you’re going to rub and make a genie appear to grant me three wishes.”

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