Faith Hope & Fiction

By Patricia Crisafulli

            A red-cheeked mechanical Santa inside the shop doorway raised a mittened hand to throngs of passengers jostling through the terminal. Inside the store, a pair of sales associates wearing antler headbands scanned paperbacks, snacks, and gift boxes of chocolates for someone who’d obviously left shopping to the last minute and the last place. From the edge of the bustle, Amanda watched the scene, distracting herself from panicked thoughts and unnamed fears that threatened to send her out of the airport and back to familiar isolation.

            Inhaling to a count of five, then exhaling at the same tempo, Amanda repeated what she knew to be true. Her sister and brother-in-law had invited her for Christmas, after her amends for a fiasco four years ago, the last time she’d seen them. This year, spending the holidays alone would not be conducive to sobriety. Day sixty-seven of not drinking, Amanda reminded herself, half admonishment and half astonishment that she’d made it this far. One day at a time.

            She hadn’t expected the airport to be so packed on the twenty-fourth. Shouldn’t everyone already be where they were headed? She couldn’t get away before today, having worked in the office all day on the twenty-third. Amanda called b.s. on herself and admitted she’d waited until Christmas Eve to travel because she feared spending the holiday with a family without the fortification of her old friends: cabernet, pinot grigio, brandy, and Bailey’s.

            Her small rollaboard suitcase in hand, Amanda rejoined the stream flowing deeper into the terminal to the gate overflowing with passengers. The flight destination read Wichita—not her city, not even the correct direction. Checking her phone, Amanda read her electronic boarding pass: Flight 1328 to Burlington, Vermont, was leaving from Gate 14B. She refreshed the screen, and an alert popped up: the flight was delayed 47 minutes due to late incoming aircraft.

            Every seat at the gate was occupied with Wichita and Burlington passengers. All Amanda wanted was one of the outlets between the seats, but everywhere chargers and cords tethered handheld devices. Ten minutes later, the gate agents announced pre-boarding for Wichita. As passengers vacated their seats to line up, Amanda made a beeline to the nearest empty place before the Burlington-bound snared them all. A man in a dark coat appeared from the other direction.

            “I was—” Amanda began.

            “Be my guest,” the man replied, with a sweep of his hand.

            “I just need the power outlet.” Amanda clutched the charger, ready to connect.

            “Excuse me,” called an older woman in a bright green sweater on the other side of the open seat. “You can use mine.”

            Amanda plugged in her phone first, thrilled to see the tiny lightning bolt in the upper right corner of the screen. The man did the same at the other outlet.

            The older woman moved her suitcase out of the way and scooted another carry-on closer to her feet. “One of you should sit down. Could be quite a wait.”

            Amanda took a closer glance at the woman’s luggage, wondering how she’d bring it all onboard. The second bag looked like a hatbox.

            “Portable pie safe,” the woman said, as if reading the question on Amanda’s face. “Got apple and mincemeat. Plus a fruitcake.”

            “TSA give you any trouble?” the man asked.

            “Not liquid or hazardous,” the older woman replied. “Just a lot of sweetness.”

            “We get stranded, we won’t starve,” the man joked.

            Amanda pegged him for someone in sales—the joviality, the charm. She took in the threads of silver in his dark hair, a shadow of whiskers on his jawline, and faint circles under his eyes. Somebody needed more sleep, she said to herself.

            She turned away from him, toward the woman with the pies. “Dibs on the mincemeat. Haven’t had that since my mom was alive. Makes me miss her.” She pressed her lips together, why on earth would she say something like that?

            “Bitter and sweet. Never feel it as much as you do at Christmas,” the older woman said. “I’m Lavonna, by the way.”

            “Amanda.” She turned to the man, expecting to hear his name.

            “Mind if I leave this here for a minute?” He nudged his suitcase closer.

            “That’s fine.” Lavonna reached for the nametag on his luggage. “Charles.”

            “Charlie,” he replied. “Be right back.”

            Lavonna smoothed the front of her black polyester pants, comfortable for traveling, though at this rate, she’d end up going from the airport right to Christmas Eve services. She had wanted to fly on the weekend, spend more time with her daughter-in-law and grandbabies, but the cheapest fare was on the twenty-fourth.

            She glanced over at the woman seated next to her—soft brown hair, jeans, an oversized sweater, and a pair of boots that would do no good in a place like Vermont. “Amanda,” Lavonna began, saying her new companion’s name to commit it to memory. “Who are you spending the holidays with?”

            “My sister.”

            “How nice.” Lavonna saw Amanda drop her eyes and suspected this woman had her doubts. She waited, knowing sometimes people confided in strangers. “But families at Christmas can stir things up.”

            Amanda tilted her head as if considering the comment. “That used to be me—stirring things up. This year will be different. I hope.” She sighed. “Day sixty-seven. Sober.”

            Bypassing the tap on the arm, Lavonna took Amanda’s hand. “Good. Very good.”

            A half-hour later, Charlie headed back toward the gate bearing a cardboard tray and three large lattes. This was his signature gesture, he knew: distract with the superficial and avoid the serious. It was his girlfriend’s perennial complaint. But Lavonna had looked like she wanted to hear their life stories or else recite every one of her sixty-some-odd years.

            He guessed Amanda to be this side of forty, same age as him. He’d noticed a haunted look in her eyes that told him she wasn’t exactly heading home for holiday cheer, but he didn’t want to know it or hear it. He had his own stuff going on and lingered on a worry about his dad. He wasn’t getting into it with two strangers at an airport gate.

            “Sorry I was gone so long, but the Starbucks line was insane.” Charlie offered the tray. “Couldn’t come back empty handed.”

            Lavonna beamed at him and took the gingerbread-flavored latte.

            Amanda plucked the caramel latte from the holder. “Wouldn’t have picked you for a fancy coffee guy.”

            “Tis the season.” He raised a peppermint mocha. “Cheers.”

            Surrendering her seat to Charlie, Amanda got up, saying she wanted to stretch her legs while she sipped her coffee. She texted her sister, Joie, saying the flight was still delayed and would keep her informed. A thumbs-up, a heart, and a kissing emoji appeared on her screen.

            Scanning the departures board, Amanda saw the Burlington flight was now delayed ninety minutes. She scrolled through her contacts and made a call, while walking back to the gate.

            “You just missed the good news—hour and a half delay,” Charlie said, grimacing.

            “It gets worse,” Amanda said. “I called the airline. They’re going to have to cancel this flight. Our plane hasn’t even left Cleveland yet.”

            “You called and they told you?” Charlie raised an eyebrow.

            “Million-mile club. All business travel. I call, they pick up.” Amanda rolled her eyes. “Bottom line, we aren’t getting to Burlington today.”

            Charlie swore under his breath. Lavonna fingered the neckline of her sweater.

            “Fortunately, I just booked a rental car—the benefit of being Executive Elite.” Amanda made quote marks in the air with the hand that didn’t hold the coffee. “It’s six hours to Burlington. I’d be happy to take you two with me.”

            Amanda waited for a response, her eyes on Lavonna. The older woman’s hesitation telegraphed fear and judgment. Why get in a car with someone who’s been sober for only two months? Amanda waited for the rejection.

            Lavonna spoke in a whisper. “I take medication for an overactive bladder, so I have to make stops. Is that okay?”

            Amanda’s eyes blurred with tears as she laughed. “I just drank twenty ounces of a sticky sweet latte. I’ll be peeing all the way to Vermont.” She turned to Charlie. “You in?”

            Once they hit the highway, the roads cleared. With any luck, they’d make it to Burlington by seven that night. Amanda drove the first leg, though she’d also put Charlie on the reservation as a second driver. He rode shotgun on the passenger side, Lavonna in the back with her pies.

            Fiddling with his phone and the Bluetooth connection, Charlie found an instrumental Christmas medley. The Muzak version of “We Three Kings” filled the car’s sound system.

            “That’s us—Three Kings, traveling afar,” Lavonna quipped.

            “We three strangers met at the gate,” Charlie sang in time with the music. “We’ll eat those pies if we arrive late.”

            Lavonna chuckled. “Oh, you’d love my pies. Make them every year. My son and his wife always came to see me, even when their babies were tiny. My house was the Christmas house. They used to drive too, just like we’re doing. But not this year.”

            She wondered if she should leave it at that. No, she wouldn’t deny his memory. “Daren—that’s my son—died eight months ago. Freak accident on the job.”

            “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry,” Amanda said into the rearview mirror.

            Lavonna felt the tightening in her throat, the burn in her eyes. “This year, I’m bringing Christmas to my daughter-in-law and my grandbabies. It’s church tonight and dinner tomorrow. We’ll get through it together.”

            The Christmas music transitioned to “Santa Baby.” The tires hummed. Amanda signaled for the left lane and passed a tractor trailer with tiny colored lights around the driver’s side window.

            “What about you, Charlie?” Lavonna asked. “You seem awfully quiet—maybe a little sad. You tell me to mind my business, I will. But cars are like confessionals, I think.”

            Charlie’s shoulders rose and fell with a sigh, but he didn’t reply. “I’m going to see my parents. Dad was diagnosed ten days ago with an aggressive cancer—started in the kidneys, spread to the liver and the pancreas. He starts chemotherapy in a few days.”

            “That’s rough,” Amanda said.

            Lavonna leaned forward. “You’re doing the right thing. Nothing you can say or do. Just be there.”

            Charlie turned toward the window. Cheery Christmas tunes continued on a loop.

            Amanda knew it was her turn, not only what she’d already shared with Lavonna, but also why she had avoided spending Christmas with family for four years. “Here’s the short version,” she began, and told of her mother dying of an aneurysm five years ago, a loss so sudden it had shaken her to the core. Their father had left when she and her sister were children, an estranged figure who rarely surfaced. Her sister, Joie, had her husband and children for comfort, but Amanda felt the loneliness more acutely than merely being single. “So I work a lot. A very acceptable way to isolate yourself—you get raises and promotions for it. I skipped the holidays after a blow-up with my sister, took exotic vacations by myself, and thought I was just fine. Then one day I wasn’t.”

            Amanda shot a glance at Charlie. “Day sixty-seven of being sober.”

            He nodded. “That’s great. Good for you.”

            “Going to Joie’s is healthier than hiding. But I’m scared to death.” The last words seemed to echo in the quiet car.

            “Of what?” Charlie asked.

            “Me, I guess. I’m afraid of being in a social situation without something to take the edge off.”

            “But she’s your sister,” Charlie pressed.

            “Family can be the worst, even with the best of intentions,” Lavonna piped up. “They pry—don’t want to see you sad. Want you to cheer up and move on.”

            Amanda raised her eyes to the rearview mirror and exchanged a look of understanding. Then she focused back on the road and the solid lines that pointed their way forward.

            “Well, aren’t we the Island of Misfit Toys,” Charlie said at last.

            Amanda frowned at him. “Humor—it’s a defense, you know.”

            “Truth,” Lavonna said. “But you gotta laugh or you cry all the time.”

            At the third hour, Charlie took over driving. When his cell phone rang, connecting with Bluetooth in the car, he accepted the incoming call even though everyone else could hear the conversation. “You’re on speaker with my new friends, Lavonna and Amanda,” he announced. “Say hello to my mom.”

            The two women chorused their greetings.

            “How’s Dad?” Charlie asked.

            “Anxious to see you,” his mother replied. “I’ll let you focus on the road.”

            When the conversation ended, Charlie asked Amanda to scroll through his contacts for Chet and place the call. “That’s my brother. I’ll have him pick me up in town. Saves you from driving out of the way for me and gives me a little time with him.”

            And so it was arranged, and then they arrived.

            In the parking lot of a church in the heart of Burlington, where the eight o’clock Christmas Eve service would begin in less than an hour, Amanda, Charlie, and Lavonna waited. “There they are!” Lavonna opened the back door of the rental car. Amanda exited as well, and Charlie followed.

            A woman in a heavy coat, bundling two small children along, swamped Lavonna in an embrace. Turning to Amanda and Charlie, Lavonna asked them to write down their phone numbers. “Won’t be a bother, I promise. But I want to know how you’re doing.”

            Charlie fished a receipt out of his pocket and he and Amanda wrote their numbers on it. Amanda kissed them on the cheeks before for the church stairs, waving one last time at the door.

            “Here’s Chet.” Charlie pointed to an SUV bumping over the ice ruts. “You gonna be okay getting to your sister’s?”

            “It’s fifteen minutes away,” Amanda assured him.

            Charlie motioned for her phone and put their numbers in each other’s contacts. “Text me when you get there.”

            “Okay,” she said simply. Then reaching out, she hugged Charlie. “I wouldn’t have come without you and Lavonna.”

            “And miss a first-class ride with a Million Mile, Executive Elite VIP?” Charlie smiled and headed toward Chet’s SUV.

            The wind picked up, scattering loose flakes of snow that had fallen during the day. Amanda started the engine, feeling at once how empty the car was. She just wanted to stay in this little cocoon, away from the world.

            Her phone buzzed with an incoming text from a number she didn’t recognize.

            “You got this. Call if you need to talk—seriously. Charlie.”

            She headed out of the parking lot, singing softly to bolster her courage. “We three strangers traveling by car. Never expected to go this far …”