Page 1 of Oh Christmas Tree
1
CHLOE
Christmas music is blasting through my little cabin as I unpack my groceries. It’s softly snowing outside, making my Christmas heart beat faster with joy. I love Christmas. My friends lovingly call me Chloe Christmas, that’s how much I love Christmas.
I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with Christmas. I’m a fairly typical girl, with no traumatic childhood or mother who infected me with the Christmas spirit. Nope. I somehow, somewhere, got that joyful bug all by myself. My family loves the holiday just like most people, but there is no Christmas Extravaganza.
As I put away the last of my groceries, I look around my cabin and my heart swells with pride. I am hosting the family’s Christmas party this year and going all out. The only thing that’s missing is the Christmas tree, but I picked out a perfect one this afternoon, and it will be delivered soon. It’s thick and big, easily nine feet tall, ideal for the high ceiling. The pine smelled so good and it has the most perfect cone shape, so the golden star on top will look like it belongs there.
The star is my pride and joy. It was a splurge, and I bought it when I was drunk, but I never really regretted my actions because it is just so pretty. The wires are so delicate; they look like spun gold. Fairy lights are embedded in the most natural way, giving off a soft and ethereal glow. It’s going to be perfect!
Just as I put the last box away, I hear an engine outside. That must be my tree! I let out a small yelp of excitement and quickly grab a coat and my Christmas hat to open the door for the delivery person.
“One Christmas tree for Chloe Frost,” he yells while yanking down the back of his truck.
“That would be me!”
He hoists a tree from the truck and unceremoniously shoves it in my arms. “Have fun with it, and… Merry Christmas!” He is yelling, and I can tell he’s listening to something on his earbuds.
“Wait!” I call out to him because this tree does not look like the one I picked out, and I want to be sure I have the right one. The guy doesn’t hear me, and when I start waving at him, he just waves back and quickly gets in the car and drives away, leaving me stranded on my doorstep with a tree that is definitely not mine.
For a moment, I stand there, looking at the tailgates of the car that’s driving away from me. I don’t know what to do, but as the thought of spending Christmas without a Christmas tree enters my mind, I know I can’t just leave it here. So, even though it’s not the tree I wanted, it will have to do. The tree is bigger than me, but I can tell it’s not nine feet tall. It also smells different and doesn’t feel as prickly as a pine tree. It is still wrapped in netting, so I have to unpack to see what I’m working with.
I haul the tree inside and drag it to its designated place in the corner by the back windows. Luckily, this tree still has itsroot ball, so the basket I prepared can still be used. It takes some effort, but a whole lot of sweat and an aching back later, the tree is firmly planted in the fresh soil, and I can cut the netting down.
Starting from the top, I cut away the netting, and when all the branches fan out, my shoulders droop, and I stare at it in horror. This is not a Christmas tree! It’s not even a pine tree! No, it’s a cedar tree. That’s why it wasn’t prickly. The flat leaves are a vibrant green–not like the dark green pines I envisioned.
Mariah Carey picks that moment to sing about the only thing she wants for Christmas, and I inhale deeply and straighten my shoulders. It doesn’t matter. I have exceptional decorating skills. The tree will look lovely, and when my family arrives tomorrow, we’ll laugh at it and be merry, because we are together.
The decorating will have to wait until tomorrow because I have to make batches of cookie dough to make Christmas cookies.
Hours later, I have four batches of dough in my fridge. The kitchen is clean, and the dishwasher is running. It's time to prepare myself and get some sleep. Tomorrow night is Christmas Eve, and we will have a traditional big dinner. We’ll exchange presents on Christmas morning. My nephews were afraid Santa wouldn’t find them at the cabin, but my sister-in-law wrote my address in a letter, and that set them at ease. Everything is prepped, and I am more than ready for a magical Christmas.
What can go wrong?
2
CHLOE
An insistent buzzing wakes me from a deep, deep sleep. The buzzing stops, but picks up again, and my sleep-fogged brain quickly realizes it’s my phone. Someone is calling me–even before my alarm goes off.
“Hello?” Sleep coats my voice, and I don’t even open my eyes to see who’s calling.
“Honey! Did I wake you up? I’m so sorry.”
“Mom? What time is it?”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t even think about that.”
I sit upright and try to brush the sleep from my eyes. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
“Our flight is canceled!”
I’m wide awake now. “Canceled? What do you mean?!”
I hear a scuffle, and my dad's voice comes through. “Honey, your mom means our flight is delayed. We’re waiting for more information, and we will keep you updated, okay?”
“Delayed? Why is it delayed?”
