Page 7 of My Secret Snowflake
Everyone claps and whistles. I finish my cake and hot chocolate and throw out the empty plate and cup.
We walk over to the sign-up table. Jazmine pitches her name in the large brown burlap sack first. I write my name and desk location on the lined scrap of paper and then toss it in.
One of the guys from my cybersecurity unit, Hank, comes over. “Have you seen Raphael? I haven’t seen him since Kevin called him to his office this morning.”
“No. Poor Raphael,” I say. “Kevin has been impossible to please lately.”
“It’s probably a discussion about bonuses.” Hank smiles. “Are you actually signing up for this?”
“Yes. Aren’t you?”
“No. I’m just here for the free food. Why would I want a gift from someone who doesn’t know me? Or to have to spend my time buying crap for someone else?”
“I think you’re actually supposed to put some thought into the gifts. Enjoy the food,” I say as Jazmine grabs my arm to pull me away into a corner.
She squeezes hard. “Aaron is here!”
A tall guy wearing wire-rimmed glasses walks up to the sign-up table, followed by the rest of the accounting department. Jazmine’s posters definitely worked.
Clusters of colleagues mill about, conversations buzzing.
Amelia calls us all to line up to pick our Secret Snowflake from the burlap sack. Jazmine is nearly vibrating with excitement in front of me.
“I love the holidays,” she says.
“That’s lucky, given that you celebrate Christmas, Hannukah,andKwanzaa.”
She smiles. “I know. But I love all the messages of hope, giving, family, and community. Don’t you?”
Yes, but I haven’t felt very hopeful recently. All I do is work—without much time to see family or friends. At least I’ll be able to get home tonight in time to decorate our family bar. But I used to love Christmas. Nothing compares to the joyful anticipation of Christmas morning—and all the family hanging out together.
Jazmine picks first. Then I put my hand in the sack, the rough burlap contrasting with the smooth feel of the paper. We move off to the side before we unfold our crumpled-up pieces of paper to reveal whose names we’ve drawn. All around us people are chattering, excitedly discovering their Secret Snowflakes.
Jazmine takes a big breath. “I can’t believe I’m nervous.”
“You should just ask Aaron out.”
“He’s an accountant. He probably doesn’t believe in dating at the office. I need to sneak into his heart so he can’tnotdate me. My strategy of running into him whenever he takes a coffee break doesn’t seem to be working.”
“No. He only seems to think you drink a lot of coffee.”
“Well, that I do,” she says, gesturing to her bright-pink thermos, now set down on the table near us.
I pat her back. “I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to date you. Really.”
She unfolds her slip of paper. “Ernest.” Her shoulders slump.
I unwrap mine. “Aaron.” I hand it to her and take her slip.
“Are you serious?” she asks. “You got Aaron!”
“And now you have Aaron. Happy holidays,” I say.
“Thank you. Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Jazmine clutches the name to her chest, the biggest grin lighting up her face. I only hope Aaron is worthy of her.
