Page 96 of A Winter in Wonderland
‘Myla, what are you doing?’ Willow whispered at me as I leant over the diffuser, wafting the mist at my face.
‘Smelling the gold, frankincense and myrrh,’ I replied with a stifled laugh, and Willow gave me a kick. She could tell I wasn’t quite myself; that my nervous energy was manifesting itself as some kind of extrovert party animal.
Standing up straight, I tried to calm down and centre on Callie and her partner, standing at the head of their pristine living room, where they’d been giving a little thank you speech to their guests that had evolved into the engagement story. I shuffled from foot to foot, focusing my eyes, trying not to look like I never usually went to anything with the words ‘party’ and ‘Christmas’ in the same sentence. Trying to look natural. For good measure, I even let out a loud laugh at an opportune moment, as proof I was listening hard.
Callie shot me a look. That was the moment it became my night’s obsession to get back on her good side and make her other friends and family like me.
I trailed her around, slinging my arm around her back and telling anyone she was chatting with that she was just thebestperson ever. Sometimes I pulled her into me and kissed her cheek. One time I slapped her bum and she pushed me away. Then I decided everyone knew I was funny about Christmas so I might as well make a joke out of it. Add some entertainment to the night.
I painfully remember trying to get everyone to look at me while I mercilessly roasted myself for being how I was at Christmas, all with a thumping heart and a too-wide grin and a never-ending thought stream telling me to stop being such a twat and just shut up. It was as if all my self-shame and loathing were being turned into a comedy routine, and I was doing it to myself. But also, I was doing it to Callie. I made fun of her matching decorations. I tried to pull a little beaded string from the tree as a prop, and the whole thing crashed over, tiny gold baubles scattering and rolling across the hardwood floor.
Callie asked me to leave.
I did, and I was never invited back.
I lay awake in the depths of that night, the room spinning, and vowed not to be the reason anyone else’s Christmas fun got wrecked. Callie and I would never be the same again, because her memory of that big night would always be tainted by my behaviour. And it was that, more so than the one prosecco cocktail, that had me throwing up for the remainder of the long night.
‘I can’t change the past,’ I whispered to myself, or more accurately, down at my drink. I wished I could believe that, wished it could turn off the tap that was now flowing. At least I knew I’d never make that mistake again. Perhaps being the worst friend had turned me into a better friend. Perhaps I’d better have another drink before I got kicked out of here. Maybe this next drink would make me happy again …
LAST CHRISTMAS ~ AGED TWENTY-SEVEN
‘It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year’ was playing out of someone’s computer and I didn’t even mind this year. I mean, I didn’t love it, but it was mid-December, and for the first time in years I was planning to attend the office Christmas party.
It had been a good year; things were going well. I’d started in the art department of the advertising company, YOLO Number 1, in January and it was the dream job I’d always hoped to land. I got to be creative, I got to be artistic, and I got to work with lovely people in a nice, friendly building.
Phoebe, my co-artworker at YOLO Number 1, slung a length of tinsel around my neck as she passed. ‘Is someone actually getting in the Christmas spirit?’ she asked with a laugh, seeing my small sway to the music.
‘For one night only,’ I countered. ‘From tomorrow I’m heading back into my hut of denial.’
She winked at me and slipped me a small gift as she perched on my desk.
‘What’s this?’ I asked.
‘Secret Santa.’
‘But I didn’t join in with Secret Santa.’ I picked up the box, wrapped in red and silver paper, and gave it a little shake. ‘Also, this isn’t very secret.’
‘I know, but I wanted you to have it. ’Cause I love ya.’
I grinned and ripped open the parcel, a small box inside which, when I lifted the lid, revealed a palm tree brooch, a couple of inches in length, with green painted leaves.
Phoebe took the brooch out and fixed it to my black velvet top which was the extent of my Christmas party outfit. She pressed a button on the back and stood back admiringly as flashing lights danced up and down the palm fronds. ‘There. Now you have a festive, flashing tree brooch but with a Myla twist. Merry Totally-Not-Christmas.’
‘I love it!’ I cried, looking down as red, green and blue twinkles flashed. ‘Thanks, Phoebe, that’s so sweet of you.’
I had trousers on too, by the way. I wasn’t just in a velvet top. Just to clarify.
‘My pleasure,’ she said. ‘Ooo, better go. Don’t leave for the party without me, OK?’ She hopped off my desk just as my manager, Rose, appeared.
‘Myla, could you come with me, please?’ she said.
A frown crossed my face. The tone of her voice wasn’t laced with Christmas spirit, like all the other employees at YOLO Number 1today. I followed Rose across to her office, where she shut the door, and the festive music was silenced.
‘Is everything all right?’ I asked her, taking a seat. I bet this was about that infographic I’d messed up last month. Or maybe it wasn’t even a bad thing, maybe she was going to give me a Christmas present?
But as she opened her mouth and started speaking about how she was sorry to do this today, but cuts had to be made in each department, and it wasn’t any reflection on me, her words were drowned out and all I heard was the faint sound of my own breathing. I looked down, watching as red, green and blue lights from my brooch made patterns on the grey plastic tabletop.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Rose, and I looked up at her to see genuine regret in her eyes.
