Happy Holidays
A Short Story By: Lo Brewer
Christmas Warmth © Matt/Flickr
The Albany Bus Terminal: quite possibly the saddest place on earth. And sadder still because it was Christmas Eve and apart from George, the surprisingly pleasant miscreant I met earlier, and the woman who worked behind the ticket window, I was the only person there. It was my own fault. And I wasn’t sure whether to be proud of myself for speaking up or angry at myself for not knowing when to shut up.
It all started when I came across Randy’s dating profile online. His screenname, LadiesManRand, caught my eye because it was so utterly ridiculous. I sent him a message on a whim, only half expecting to hear back. But when he responded to my message, which included a very random quote from a David Lynch film, with a quote from Twin Peaks my interest was piqued.
After exchanging a few messages via the dating app, we graduated to Gchat and soon started talking all day every day. I liked talking to him. But to be clear, I had no realistic hopes of ever meeting him in person. I was nearly positive he didn’t exist, except for in the catfish sort of way. And his pictures looked like they’d been cut straight from a POLO ad. No one was that ruggedly dashing in real life. NO ONE.
We played this game for months, where he would beg for my number and I would refuse to give it to him. I didn’t want to end the fantasy. I knew the second I heard his voice I’d be able to detect the pimple faced, fat, unemployed nerd who no doubt was hiding behind POLO model Randy’s pictures.
I didn’t see a relationship in our future. I saw Randy less as a person and more as a pastime. He was something that kept me busy when there was nothing to watch on television. And I suppose the game would have went on forever had I not walked into that deli one day to pick up lunch for the firm.
I was working as a paralegal for a small firm in New York City and was grossly underpaid, extremely unhappy, and the victim of sexual harassment on the part of 3 of the 4 associates. When I said that I hated my job, it wasn’t without reason. In fact, I had reason, cause and grounds for a lawsuit to back up my statement.
I was entrusted with, among a thousand other things, ordering, picking up and laying out lunch for the senior associates. That day, they all wanted lobster bisque from the deli on the corner. And while I was thankful for the reprieve from spending time in my cubical getting an unsolicited backrub from one of my bosses, I was dreading the walk back, which was sure to end with fish soup spilled somewhere on my person.
I was standing in the soup line when it happened.
“Sherry? Sherry is that you?” someone called from behind me. I turned around and there he stood, all six feet four inches of him.
“That is you! I can’t believe it!” He stepped out of line and ran up to me. “I was starting to think you weren’t real. But here you are. Come here! Give me a hug.” He grabbed me up like a ragdoll. But then, as if remembering himself, gently placed me back on my feet.
“This isn’t happening,” I accidentally said outload. “I’m sorry, I mean, uh, hello?”
“You’d think you weren’t happy to see me from that reaction,” he said.
“No, it’s just that I guess I didn’t think you were real either,” was all I could muster.
“Miss! What do you want?!” the man from behind the counter yelled. It somehow managed to startle me….as if I wasn’t startled enough.
“Hey man, don’t talk to her like that. We’ll have two lobster bisques,” he said.
“You didn’t have to do that Randy.”
“No, I got you. Besides, I’m quite the gentleman. I’d never let anyone talk to a lady that way.” He smiled and his smile was as perfect as it was in all the pictures posted on his page.
He paid for the soup, a small gesture, but nonetheless impressive by my very low dating standards. And we sat at a table at the back of the deli. It was then, sitting there as he rambled on about God knows what, that I finally took him in. Randy was just as tall and fucking beautiful as he portrayed himself to be. I noticed freckles on the bridge of his nose and flecks of gold in his eyes that I’d never noticed before. It was like staring at a unicorn: tan skin, hazel eyes, freckles and hints of rust in his hair. His beauty made me even more aware of my lack thereof.
He must have been reading my thoughts then because in a sad attempt to make me feel better about my drab next to his fab he said, “God, you’re gorgeous!”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You, you’re gorgeous. When I first saw your pictures I couldn’t help thinking of my mom.”
“I remind you of your mom? That’s an interesting compliment,” I said.
“It is though. My mom was a model in the 90s. She’s so pretty. I think you’re hotter, of course. It would be weird if I thought otherwise.”
“You mean if you were into your mom? Yea that’d be weird.”
“You’re funny too. I thought that when we met that we’d have nothing to talk about since we talk every day online about nothing. But your humor stands up in person.”
“Thanks Randy. And I’m sorry about avoiding you for this long. I just thought it was online BS. I never thought there was a point in trying to start something real with someone fake. But you sure proved me wrong. You’re exactly who you say you are.”
Our conversation was interrupted by my phone ringing. I didn’t need to look at it to know that someone from the firm was calling to get an ETA on their lunch. I’d forgotten. The mere sight of Randy made me forget all about that place.
I told Randy I had to go and he insisted on waiting in line with me again so I could pick up the 4 soups I’d forgotten about. After I paid he walked me to the office building where I worked. Before he left me in the lobby he asked me again for my phone number, and this time I finally obliged. Then he made me wait while he called it to confirm that I wasn’t stringing him along. This perfect guy was worried that I would string him along.
That was in July. In the months leading up to Christmas things moved fast and furious for Randy and me. We shared everything with each other. Sometimes when you start a relationship online you get all the hard stuff out of the way conversation-wise so that when you finally do link up, it’s as if you already know each other. He knew all about my weird and random upbringing in an artist’s commune…only to escape to my current existence as a corporate grunt. I told him about my dreams of living near Niagara Falls. I became obsessed with it as a child after a trip to visit my grandmother in Toronto.
He, in turn, told me about his family. His mother, Geraldine, was a super model. He didn’t give her this classification, I did after he revealed that the one and only Gerry Roberts, was his mother. She was the first black model to land on the cover of literally every major fashion magazine. I thought she was dead because she seemingly dropped off the face of the earth. But Randy told me that she settled down when she got pregnant with him and married his father, Cillian, an Irish marketing exec. He’d been on a three-month long business trip in the states, when they met. And after their whirlwind relationship resulted in a pregnancy, he decided to stay. He now owns and operates his own marketing firm in NYC, where he lives during the week and goes home to Gerry on the weekends. Randy also told me about his little sister, Cassie, who is some sort of basketball phenom at a posh Albany private school. She’s being courted by all the major universities for both her academics and athletics. They all live in a mansion in Albany and even have a Swedish maid, Ingrid.
“Sounds like you’ve got the perfect family, LadiesManRand,” I said to him after he told me about the maid.
He’d gone to school on a basketball scholarship, even though his parents could have paid outright for school. He got his degree in computer science and was working at a branding firm in the city.
Even with all of this perfect going on in his life, he still shared my wish to move away somewhere and start fresh. He was my dream guy. So when he asked me to go home with him for Christmas to meet this amazing family he’d told me all about, I didn’t hesitate to say yes.
The plan was for Randy to pick me up from work the day before Christmas Eve. He was going to rent a car to drive us up to Buffalo. He didn’t have a car living in the city, one wasn’t necessary. But a week before our planned holiday, he went dark. He wasn’t online. He wasn’t answering texts or calls. I was being ghosted. And I was furious. Seven days of hearing nothing from the love of my life drove me to sure madness, and thusly, I engaged in some super crazy girlfriend behavior. I booked a trip to Buffalo. In hindsight, I can see what an egregious mistake that was. But in that moment I’d lost all sight of what it meant to be a sane person anymore. So after work on December 23rd, just a little over 24 hours ago, I hopped on the first train smoking out of NYC headed towards Buffalo.
I arrived at the Buffalo Train Station early this morning, Christmas Eve. The sun was barely up. I’d barely slept. But in the 8 hours the train ride took, I hadn’t become any more sane. Had I, I probably would have turned around and gone home. But I was still mad. And my unbridled rage motivated me.
I took a cab to Randy’s family home. He’d made the mistake of giving me their address a few weeks ago when I told him I wanted to send them a Christmas card. Silly boy. You don’t’ give a girl your info and then ghost her. Because she’ll haunt you .
When I got out of the taxi, and walked up to the front door of the mansion I was unsure of what I would be met with. Would Randy open the door angry? Would his parents have no idea who I was? This was the first time during this trip that I was starting to regret my decision to confront Randy. But it was too late to turn back now. So, I did it. I rang the doorbell.
The door opened to a middle aged white woman in a maids uniform. Ingrid I assumed.
“Hello Miss. Merry Christmas. How can I help you?” she said.
“Hi, I’m, uh, I’m Sherry. I know Randy?” I said, not completely sure I really knew Randy at all.
“Ohhhh!” Ingrid said with a smirk. “Well it will be a very merry Christmas indeed. Please come in.”
“Oh you know who I am?” I asked as I put my bag down in the entry way of their home. Ingrid was helping me out of my coat.
“Yes Miss Sherry. You’re the girlfriend from New York City,” she said.
“That’s me. Is Randy here?”
“Oh no Miss Sherry. Mr. Randy won’t get in until nearly dinner. But I’ll bring you to his room. We’ll put your things there, yes?” she said.
I followed Ingrid down a flight of steps to a basement apartment that Randy must have occupied as a teenager. It was outfitted with all the things that a teen boy would enjoy, pool table, arcade games, every video game console known to man, a weight bench, and a waterbed…because why not.
“Excuse me Miss, but do you mind if I ask you a question?” I asked.
“No ‘Miss,’ just Ingrid. And yes, ask me anything…I have all the answers.”
“This may sound strange. But did Randy tell his family that I was coming home with him for the Holidays?”
“Oh yes! Mr. Randy say, he say, “I bring home my lady to meet you.””
“It’s just that um, well I haven’t heard from him in a week. And I’m just now realizing that maybe I shouldn’t have come.”
“Ha!” Ingrid couldn’t help herself. “I’m so sorry miss Sherry. I like you. You’re a good one. Don’t fret. This will be the best Christmas yet. You’ll see. In fact, let’s go make merry in the kitchen. I was about to bring Miss Gerry her morning martini.”
“I’m sorry what?”
“Miss Geraldine is Randy’s mother. And she likes her morning Manhattan martini. She likes her lunchtime Lemon Drop martini. She like her dinner dirty martini and she like her sleepy time Smokey martini.”
“So you’re saying I should have gotten her gin for Christmas?”
“Oh you didn’t buy a present? That’s okay. We can stick a bow on any bottle in her stash and hand it to her. She won’t know the difference. Plus something tells Ingrid that we won’t make it through dinner, nevermind opening presents.”
When we emerged from the basement apartment I heard a voice coming from the west side of the mansion. Ingrid signaled to me to be quiet by holding her finger up to her lips. She gestured for me to follow her into the kitchen, which was close to where the sound of the voice was. She told me in hushed tones that was Randy’s father on the phone in his study, no doubt talking to one of his ‘trollops.’
Noticing the look on my face she assured me that Mr. Flynn’s mistresses weren’t so much a secret, as they were a giant pink elephant that no one really discussed.
I sat at the island in the spacious kitchen silently watching Ingrid fix Geraldine’s Manhattan thinking, Who were these people? Randy had always painted his family as this perfect piece of Americana. Then again, he’d painted himself as the perfect boyfriend. But he ghosted me just days before Christmas. So clearly I didn’t know as much about him as I thought.
Just a few months ago, I was thinking I was living a fairytale. When he invited me to come meet his family for Christmas, I was over the moon. Growing up with a couple of hippie parents who celebrated the winter solstice instead of Christmas was less than ideal. I wanted so much to be normal. But this type of normal had me second guessing my lifelong dreams.
Ingrid told me to sit tight while she ran Geraldine’s drink up to her. I was only left in the stark silence of the kitchen for a few moments when Randy’s father walked in. He didn’t even notice me at first, having poured a full cup of coffee and added a few sugar cubes before even looking my way.
“Oh! Hello there!” he said as if expected me, a stranger, to be sitting in his kitchen on Christmas Eve.
“Hi, I’m, um…”
“Corrine, right? Ah yes, you must be the friend Cassie said she was hanging out with today.”
“No, actually, I’m Randy’s…Randy’s friend,” I said, unsure of how to introduce myself.
“Oh, forgive me please. He did mention bringing home his girlfriend for Christmas. You must think me a fool. I apologize profusely. Stacy, right?”
“Wrong again. But it’s OK. My name is Sherry.”
“Yes! That’s it! I’m horrible with names. I would forget my wife’s name if she didn’t have it tattooed on her rear. So sorry Shelby.”
It was only 8am and I had yet to meet her, but I already knew that Randy’s mother was a functional alcoholic and had an ass tat. This was going to be an interesting weekend with all the loose lips in this house.
“Would you like an Irish coffee Shelby?” he continued.
I thought about correcting him. But he’d settled on Shelby and I had more important things to worry about, like what I was going to do when Randy finally showed up.”
“Uh sure. That would be great Mr. Flynn,” I replied, unsure of what an Irish coffee entailed.
“Please, call me Cillian,” he said as he poured me an equally large glass of coffee. He stirred in a few sugar cubes then added a healthy helping of whisky to both of our glasses and topped them with cream. “Bottoms up!” he said as he took a huge gulp from his cup.
“Right,” I said. “Cheers.” I clinked his glass and gulped away. At this point, getting drunk seemed like a likely solution to the situation I’d gotten myself into.
Our toast was interrupted by Cassie who entered the kitchen rubbing her eyes. She looked like a girl version of Randy. She had the same lightly tanned skin, freckles, dimples and hazel speckled eyes. She was beautiful. Although it appeared she was trying to hide it. She was dressed in a track suit and had her hair pulled back into a tight pony tail.
“Morning Dad,” she said sleepily then sat down next to me without acknowledging me.
“Say hello to Randy’s girlfriend,” Cillian said.
“Oh shit! Yo, I thought she was mom,” she said. “I mean, not that you’re old like mom, you just look a lot like her. My bad. What’s up Corrine?”
“I’m sorry what?” I said.
“Wait, I thought Corrine was your friend,” Cillian said.
“Uh no. I have zero friends named Corrine. I thought Randy’s girl’s name was Corrine. I’m sorry beautiful. What is your name?”
“It’s Sherry,” I said blankly. I considered digging more into this Corrine person. But I decided against it. I’d wait for Randy to arrive to do that.
“So sorry about all of this Shelby. I swore that Cassie said something about a Corrine. And Im sure she’s mistaken about Randy saying that he was bringing a girl home by that name. Maybe that was his last girlfriend,” he said looking to Cassie for confirmation.
“Look I don’t know, Randy does his own thing. I can’t keep up with him or his chicks. No offense,” she said directly to me. I held up my hands and shrug to indicate no offense had been taken.
“You did say that you had a friend coming by today, right?” Cillian asked her.
“Oh, you’re thinking about Jessica. Yea, she stayed over last night. She’s still sleeping. And to be clear, she’s not my friend, she’s my…”
“Cassie, Cassie, that’s enough. We don’t want to show out in front of our guest,” Cillian said. Cassie rolled her eyes and leaned back on the stool she was sitting on. She looked like Randy, but she had more of a swagger than he did. I’d spent only a few minutes with her and already she was my favorite member of the Flynn family, Randy included.
Cassie got up and made herself an Irish coffee. She’s under 21. But apparently this family has nothing against underage or pre-noon drinking. Ingrid joined us and the four of us casually chatted in the kitchen til lunchtime when Ingrid banished us to the den so she could prepare a meal.
Geraldine came downstairs in search of her lemon drop martini still wearing her silk pajamas from the night before.
“Oh hello there,” she said looking at me with what seemed like both delight and confusion. “You must be..”
“Her name is Sherry Mom. She’s Randy’s girlfriend,” Cassie interjected.
“Sherry? But I thought…”
“You thought Sherry. Just sit down and drink your martini,” Cassie said. It was a thinly veiled save. But it spared me the embarrassment of explaining that I wasn’t Corrine. Geraldine shrugged and plopped down on the couch, spilling some of her drink on her pajama top. We all enjoyed more drinks together during lunch and spent the next few hours in the den talking and watching movies. Randy still wasn’t home and I was beginning to think I’d entered some alternate universe.
Just then the front door opened.
“Happy Christmas Eve!” I heard Randy call. I suddenly felt like vomiting. It had nothing to do with the two Irish coffees I’d consumed and more to do with the fact that shit was about to get real.
He walked into the den with his arm around a buxom blond.
“This is…” he started before seeing me sitting comfortably with his family. He removed his arm from around her shoulders. “…Corrine.”
“Hi Corrine,” we all said in unison.
Ingrid walked into the den.
“Perfect! Everyone is here. Dinner is served,” she said with a chuckle, then disappeared into the kitchen. Cillian ushered us into the dining room. Randy sat flanked by Corrine and I.
He turned to me and whispered, “I can explain.”
“No need,” was my response.
Corrine was particularly chatty…too chatty. She expressed how happy she was to finally meet Randy’s family. So this has been going on for a while, I thought. She told us all about herself even though no one asked.
Finally, unable to enable this farce any longer I said, “So Corrine, where did you meet my boyfriend?”
“Your…your what?” she said confused.
“Randy, my boyfriend, where did you meet him?” I said, slightly slurring my words. I was drunk. But 12 hours of drinking can do that to a girl.
“Randy?” she said looking at him for answers. But instead of providing any answers he sat there silently. Maybe he thought if he was quiet and super still, we’d forget he was there.
“Now, now, let’s not cause a scene. We can all be adults about this, can’t we Shelby?” Cillian said.
“It’s Sherry! My name is Sherry!” I yelled, unable to stifle my volume. “And I’m being as grown up as someone can be when they’re seated at a table with their boyfriend and his other girlfriend!”
“We don’t yell at this table,” Geraldine said.
“Young lady, you’re a guest in our home. And as such, you will respect us,” Cillian said.
“Randy?” Corrine said looking more desperate and upset.
“Yes Randy, what do you have to say for yourself?” I asked.
“Bro, you’ve really backed yourself into this one,” Cassie said and then leaned back and put her arm around Jessica who’d joined us just before dinner.
Still he sat silently, catatonic.
“Listen, in this family, we don’t handle things by screaming at each other,” Cillian said.
“No, you sure don’t,” I interrupted. “I’ve been with you people for just one day and I think I’ve got you all figured out. You, sir, get to do what you want because you’re rich and white and the only one currently earning money and paying for this monstrosity of a house. You cheat on your wife and keep her belly full of booze and pills to keep her pliable and unconscious. Your son thinks it’s OK to commit to several women at a time and sell them on dreams of love and bullshit because you have zero respect for the women in your life. And you’re both so busy with your bitches and booze that you refuse to acknowledge the fact that your daughter, who may be the only sane decent person in the family, is a lesbian, which by the way, isn’t a bad thing. It’s just a thing!”
“Sherry, I can explain,” Randy finally said. “Please just let me do that. Corrine and I are just…”
“Are just fucking! And with that, I’m out!” I walked away from the table and could hear a slow clap that no doubt was coming from Cassie. But I refused to turn around. There was no looking back. As I started towards the front door, I realized I hadn’t thought any of this out. My things were still in the basement. I didn’t have transportation to the station. And I didn’t even know where I was going to travel to once I got there. Sure, I could go back to New York City. But honestly, nothing good awaited me there. I wished that by some act of magic or witchery I could be transported as far away from this house as possible. And the universe must have been listening because at the front door was Ingrid waiting with my bag and coat.
“Here are your things Miss Sherry. I call you an Uber ten minutes ago,” she said.
“What? How did you…?”
“I know this family Miss. Their business is sloppy. You’re not sloppy. I knew you wouldn’t stand for it. I’m surprised you lasted so long. Anyway, you have a merry Christmas. The car will be here soon. It will take you to the bus station. There are no trains running from here tonight.”
“Thank you Ingrid,” I said. I gave her a hug and walked out to my waiting car.
Which brings me here, the Albany Bus Terminal. I suppose it’s not the saddest place on earth. That title is reserved for the Flynn house. I’m just glad that I got to see the truth with my own eyes.
I was always a daydreamer. I used to have dreams of living near the falls…surrounded by the majesties of nature, the way I grew up. It wasn’t until I met Randy that I thought my dreams were different. I started to believe that I wanted, no, needed, to have the kind of life I thought he could provide for me.
I sat there, staring at the bus ticket I’d impulsively bought wondering if I was doing the right thing when an announcement came over the PA system.
Attention: The 10pm bus to Niagara Falls is loading. Please have your ticket ready for receipt.
I sighed, grabbed my bag and walked out into the snow.
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