Page 16 of Secret Santa

Jesse: If you were watching a movie with Fitzy you’d have no problem continuing your conversation with me. You sounded out of breath when you answered just like you had the last time you were with him. Plus when I suggested you were on a date you threatened to hang up on me.

I could barely breathe while I watched the ellipses hanging there. What else was there possibly left for him to deduce. Yet it sat there, taunting me, like Jesse was rewritingA Christmas Carolin Olde Edwardian English with a calligrapher’s feather.

Jesse: Your lack of response confirms my hunch.

Me: I’m neither confirming nor denying. My business is my business.

Jesse: Hey, I’m not judging. I actually hope you find someone. At least then my stubborn, willfully independent sister, who exists in a bubble of delusion when it comes to her own personal safety will have someone to make sure she stays safe. And will live close enough to help you immediately if god forbid something ever happened to you.

Me: Jesse—Bourbon City has changed little since we were kids. It’s still the same like two hundred people we knew growing up.

Jesse: It’s not the locals I worry about. It’s the damn college kids.

It was a conversation we went round and round in circles with. Ever since I took over my mom’s diner, it was always the same thing. One time when we were kids, the diner got vandalized. More than likely, it was a group of drunk college kids mad either that their team lost or celebrating a victory. There’d been some significant damage to the windows and a lot of the booths and such—lots of food was stolen, but overall, it was all things insurance covered. We were so young though, it seemed odd that Jesse was concerned over something that happened nearly twenty years ago.

“I saw someone sneaking back into his houseverylate in the evening!” Fitzy snuck her head around the swinging door of my kitchen shaking her finger at me.

The perfect distraction from having another circular argument with Jesse.

Me: Gotta go big brother. I’ll talk to you tonight. xo

Jesse: You know I worry about you being out there all alone. And please consider coming to Chicago for Christmas. I miss you kid.

“Oh, please stop instigating you old porch owl. Nothing happened! We watched a movie and practically fell asleep.” I tossed a kitchen towel in her direction with no heat behind my words. “You leave a condom behind? A condom? What are you even doing with condoms! Certainly, pregnancy is way past your orbit of concern.”

She pulled up a stool next to my prepping station, helping herself to a cooling cinnamon roll.

“Do you know what the number one health concern is in retirement facilities? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not the cold, flu, shingles, or broken hips. It’s Chlamydia, Gonorrhea, and Syphilis.” She shook her wrinkled finger at me ticking off each point on her holiday embellished fingernails. “Old people everywhere are sticking their dirty peckers in someone’s dirty business just passing STD’s around like joints at Woodstock!”

While I tried to reassemble my brain bits that had just been blown completely away by this lecture on STD’s from essentially my grandmother, she pilfered a second cinnamon roll from my cooling rack.

“Besides the two of you are dancing the slowest mating dance in the history of mankind. If it were up to the two of you to repopulate this earth---the missing link would be discovered before the two of youhook up.”

She used air quotes around hook up. So I knew she was hip on the up to date lingo. The entire conversation was making me cringe.

“You know for a southern lady who is part of thegarden clubyou seemed to have missed the day they taught propriety in old southern lady school.”

Fitzy was in a league of her own. I couldn’t help but laugh. No one in a million years would believe half the conversations she and I had.

“We’ve barely even known each other for three weeks Fitzy. And that first week was nothing more than a name on a Secret Santa card.”

“And people swiping left and right know each other for much less amounts of time before they’re in bed figuring out if there’s a spark. Besides, I hand pickedhimto beyourSecret Santa because Iknewjust how perfect he’d be for you. You’re both attractive, smart, go getters and hard workers. You respect your elders and neither of you could say no to an old lady in need when I asked you both to be part of my gift exchange.”

The things Fitzy said warmed me. If I could hand pick my family, Fitzy would definitely be the grandmotherly type I would have wanted. I always felt a special connection to her—no matter how outrageous some of her requests were. At least a life with Fitzy was never boring.

“I hate to see you alone, sugar. You have so much love to give to be living in hiding. I think Mr. Murray is quite smitten.” She patted my arm as she hopped off the stool and headed toward the door. “I don’t know anyone who would sacrifice their entire day off to run tables for someone they didn’t at least have a passing interest in.”

Fitzy’s comments stuck with me the rest of the day. Thankfully with the help of some of Presley’s swim team and my regular waitress I could swing between cooking and organizing Thanksgiving orders. It seemed like every year we got busier and busier with catering and bakery orders. I loved it. I loved that the town had opened their arms to my diner, my vision, and all things Elvis.

“What do you think is going to happen?” I overheard two of Presley’s girls, Graham and Sheila, chatting as they refilled ketchup bottles and sugar packets at the counters.

“I don’t know, Coach Murray looked really upset.” Sheila shrugged, turning toward me, and jumping when she noticed I was there. “Oh my heaven, Priscilla, you nearly sent me to Jesus.”

She drew in a mock super southern twang and clasped at her nonexistent pearls.

“Didn’t anyone tell you it ain’t right sneaking up on people,” Graham chimed in.

“I heard you mention Coach Murray. Is everything all right?”

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