Page 33 of The Christmas Letters
I pull a single sheet of stationery out of the box I purchased and stare down at the blank page.
It’s just a letter.
I run a hand through my hair.
Just words on paper.
Dear Christmas Pen Pal,
That’s a pretty confident claim—professional cornhole playing. I’m not saying I doubt you. It’s just that those people on TV are really serious about their sport. Maybe we could get together and play sometime…
I reread the first few lines I’ve written and sigh. It’s probably too soon to suggest we get together in person. I ball up the paper and start again.
Dear Christmas Pen Pal,
That's a pretty confident claim—professional cornhole playing. I’m not saying I doubt you. It’s just that those people on TV are really serious about their sport. You really think you could take them?
Three things about me. Let’s see. I’m really good at my job. It’s a job that requires you to stay calm, even in stressful situations, and I’m really good at that. In fact, I don’t get ruffled easily in general. I don’t have much of a temper, though sometimes I do get a little mouthy. That’s the word my mother used when I was a kid.
What else? I hate olives. I don’t understand how anyone can NOT hate olives. I’ll eat just about anything. But not olives.
And finally, something that might make you feel better about yourself. I like to watch romantic comedies with my grandma.
I’m guessing you’re laughing. It’s fine. I can handle it. My grandma is pretty amazing. She always adds funny commentary to the movies, and she makes really good caramel popcorn. We’ve been watching movies together since I was a kid, but it’s only recently that they’ve all become romance-themed. I think she’s trying to tell me something…transmit her hopes and dreams for me through Hallmark-style indoctrination. I don’t know what she’s so worried about. It’s not like I’m opposed to the idea. I guess I’m just waiting for the right person.
Who knows? Maybe I’ve already met her, and I just haven’t realized it yet.
Am I being too obvious? That’sthe point of all this, right? If I’m being totally honest, I’m only writing because I hope the woman might be someone I could eventually get to know in person. I press on and finish the letter, resisting the urge to let my doubts win.
Tell me about the college education you aren’t using, and how you’re planning to fix things. You’ve made me curious.
Until next time,
I hesitate before signing the letter. It feels weird to call myself Max after so many years of going by Andrew or Drew.
But signing my real name to the letter—would it ruin the magic? The woman writing has only signed asYour Christmas Pen Pal,so in the end, I decide to follow her lead and sign the letter,Max.
She probably has reasons for wanting to keep her anonymity. We are strangers, after all. I can’t blame her for wanting to be cautious.
After a few more letters, maybe I’ll suggest we start using our real names. Or just get right to the point and invite her to dinner.
I add one final line, a postscript that reads,I like calling us friends. It feels right.
Chapter Ten
Tess
“Butseriously,readthisletter,” I say, thrusting it across the table at Chloe. We’re on the outdoor patio at The Obstinate Daughter, a pizza place on Sullivan’s Island that’s famous for funky toppings and top-notch crust. “Trust me. You’ve never read anything so perfect.”
Deacon leans over Chloe’s shoulder, his eyes scanning over the letter. After just a few moments, he looks up. “You told him you were good enough to play professional cornhole?”
I raise an eyebrow. “I beat you every game, don’t I?”
“Oh my word, he watches movies with his grandma?” Chloe presses a hand to her chest. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Right?” I lean back in my chair. “He feels too good to be true.”
“Of course he’s not too good to be true,” Deacon says with a grin. “He probably looks like Gollum.”
