Her phone pinged with another message.
Unknown: Hope you got home okay. This is Deckard, btw.
She immediately hit reply.
January: Came home to a nightmare. Will tell you at lunch. How did you get my number?
Deckard: Your friend came by the store and gave it to me.
January didn’t know what to think. She was angry with Samantha for giving Deckard her number, but she supposed she should have given it to him herself. And if it wasn’t for Samantha, January may not have realized that she really did want to date Deckard.
At her pause, another message came across.
Deckard: Don’t be mad. She meant well.
January: I’m not. Just getting ready for bed. Tired from all the excitement tonight.
Deckard: I had a good time too. Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.
January: Goodnight.
Deckard: Sleep well.
As January closed her eyes, she knew that she would do as Deckard wished. Her mind was running playback of her night with him, and as she fell asleep, she had a smile grace her lips.
Chapter Three
January rolled over in bed and slapped at the alarm clock radio with a flailing arm, wishing that she had five more minutes to finish the dream between her and Deckard.
The music seemed louder this morning, and as she pried her eyes open to figure out the time, dawning fell on January. The radio wasn’t playing a Christmas carol or commercial. No, it was blaring one of her favorite songs from the summer.
“Huh?” she wondered as she sat up in bed and grabbed the radio, changing the stations, listening carefully as she flipped through.
“No,” she gasped. Rushing out of bed, her feet tangled in the sheets, and she fell headfirst out of her bed, smashing her face against the hardwood floors. But she didn’t feel the pain, she felt panic instead.
Running out of the bedroom clad in just her panties, January didn’t even bother to check to see if her window coverings were closed. Her bare feet pounded down the hallway, and at the opening, she stared in shock at her living room. There wasn’t a single remnant of Christmas in the space. Not a bow, not a light, not even a broken pine needle from the tree. The room was empty.
“Oh no,” she gasped. “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. What did I do?”
January felt faint. Her mind whirled and she stumbled over to the couch to sit, tucking her head between her legs as her mom used to show her. The walls continued to feel as if they were closing in and January struggled to catch her breath.
She couldn’t believe that she made that stupid wish last night, and now she’s deprived an entire world of a joyous time, simply because she had been wronged as a child.
It can’t be real, she thought. January was sure her parents were playing a prank on her. They knew how much she wanted nothing to do with the holiday.
Pushing away from the couch with new resolve, January sprinted back to her room, tugged on a sweatshirt, and slipped on her fur-lined boots. She was glad she always kept around an oversized sweatshirt as this one hung down to her knees.
With heavy steps, January left her bedroom and walked right out her front door. She almost slipped as she dashed down the stairs to her yard.
The snowman out front was gone, as was the string of lights. But January’s stomach dropped as she took in her neighbor’s houses. Her head turned to the left, then right, then left again – everything was bare.
No red and green. No lights. No giant inflatable lying dormant on the ground. It was all gone.
January’s breath began to catch again in fear, but a voice sounding from the sidewalk had her spinning on her heels and almost falling on her butt in the cold snow.
“If this is how you greet everyone in the morning, I’m likely to get jealous.”
“Deckard,” she spoke softly, tears pooled along her lower lids as the gravity of what had transpired began to settle. She needed someone and he was here at the perfect moment.