Author: Andi Marquette
Category: LGBT
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/andi-marquette/page,3,481285-the_bureau_of_holiday_affairs.html
And then the room disappeared, and she was falling through mist. Her stomach lurched like she was on a rollercoaster. She didn’t know how far down she had to go, and she instinctively braced for a crash, but it didn’t come. She heard laughter, talking, and dishes clinking against each other. She stood in somebody’s dining room. The big table in the center was piled with food, and Christmas decorations hung from the eighties-style chandelier above it. Lights twinkled above the picture window. The drapes were open, but with the lights on, Robin couldn’t see outside. She was surrounded by people talking and eating, most of whom were Asian. They all ignored her, but she moved back against the wall anyway.
She glanced around. She hadn’t seen furnishings like this since the nineties. And where the hell was Decker?
An older Asian woman emerged from what Robin guessed was the kitchen, and Robin froze. Chinese. She was Chinese, and she was Lin, Jill’s mom. Robin had met her twice, and both times Jill had introduced Robin as a “good friend.” Oh, God. She was in Jill’s parents’ house in Portland. Had to be.
“Have you seen Jill?” Lin asked a boy who looked to be about ten. He was reaching for another piece of fudge.
“No.”
Lin’s mouth tightened and she worked her way to a doorway opposite Robin.
“Might want to follow her,” Decker said, and Robin jumped. She was sure Decker hadn’t been there a moment earlier.
“Fine,” she snapped, and she worked her way around the periphery of the dining room.
“You don’t have to do that,” Decker said.
Robin looked over as a man walked right through Decker.
“That is seriously—no. Just no.” She continued hugging the wall and sighed in relief when she made it to the hallway, noting that though she could tell the carpet was thick, she couldn’t feel it under her feet.
“Jill, it’s time for this to stop,” Lin was saying to a closed door at the other end of the hall. “It’s rude.”
“Give me a few minutes,” came a response, and Robin closed her eyes as a voice she hadn’t heard in fifteen years poked at an old wound.
“I’ll talk to her.” A young Chinese woman passed Robin. She looked about the age Robin had been when Jill dumped her. “Go back to the party, Mom. I’ll take care of this.”
Lin harrumphed and went back to the dining room. Robin squished herself against the wall of the hallway as Lin walked past her, barely two inches between them.
“Jill, it’s Christie. Can I come in?”
Robin didn’t catch the response, but Christie opened the door and went in. Decker motioned toward the door, and Robin approached it, took a deep breath as she shut her eyes, and walked through.
“Good job,” Decker said when Robin opened her eyes.
Robin ignored her and stared instead at Jill, who was slumped in a chair next to a single bed. The room was probably Jill’s before she went to college. Several awards for sports and academics hung on the wall next to Robin’s head and they all had Jill’s name on them. The walls had been painted pink, which might have explained why Jill hated that color so much.
Christie sat down on the bed opposite Jill, who had been crying. Robin’s chest tightened. She hadn’t seen Jill in years, hadn’t wanted to after she’d gotten past the pain of the breakup, and she vowed that if she ever did see her, she’d make sure to remind her how awful it had been, getting dumped. But seeing her like this left Robin feeling a strange mixture of numb and raw.
She looked like Robin remembered, long straight hair pulled back in a ponytail, the elegant planes of her face still familiar, something that had always seemed incongruous with the mischievous spark in her eyes. Robin had caressed Jill’s face many times, and Jill had always smiled when she did. But that was lifetimes and worlds away.
“You did what you had to do,” Christie said.
“So how come it feels so fucking bad?” Jill dabbed at her eyes with a well-used tissue. Christie handed her a fresh one out of the box on the bed.
“You’ll get over it.”
“Really? I broke her heart. She thinks I’m the worst person ever.” Jill blew her nose. “I am the worst person ever. I couldn’t even tell her the truth.”
Robin tried to swallow, but the lump in her throat prevented it.
“Do you think that would’ve made her feel any better? That you couldn’t be with her because your family would disown you?”
Robin’s teeth were clenched so hard that her jaw hurt.
“I’m a coward,” Jill said through a fresh round of tears. “I’m not strong enough to fight for love.”
“Come on,” Christie said. “You know our family is extremely traditional. Did you really think you could be openly gay? What were you planning to do? Have some kind of commitment ceremony?”
“Maybe I was,” Jill said, and tears stung Robin’s eyes.
“I thought you weren’t in love with me,” Robin said, but Christie and Jill didn’t react. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Robin turned to Decker. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
Decker looked at her, expression inscrutable. “There’s usually another side to a story.”
“God, I miss her,” Jill said through her tears.
Christie reached over and squeezed her knee. “Look, breakups are hard. You’ll get through it, and so will she.”
“And then what? I can’t express part of who I am. If I do, I lose my family. What kind of choice is that?” Jill got up and pulled another tissue out of the box.
“Well, you’re not going to solve anything sitting in here. Go out and mingle for a little bit. You can tell people you’re not feeling well after you do it and come back here.”
Jill laughed, but it lacked humor. “Because it’s so important to save face. It doesn’t matter how bad somebody feels, or that my own family put me in this position. We must always keep up appearances.” She wiped her eyes with the fresh tissue. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Christie nodded and gave her a quick hug. She left, but didn’t close the door, and the sounds of the party floated down the hall.
Jill brushed past Robin, and Robin flinched though she didn’t feel even a breeze from her passage. Instinctively, she reached out, but her hand passed through Jill’s arm, and as bizarre as that was to see, it left her feeling even emptier.
“Can I go home now?” she asked. “Because this really sucks.”
Decker shook her head as mist suddenly engulfed Jill’s bed.
“Not again.” Robin shut her eyes tight as the floor beneath her feet fell away. She landed a little harder this time, and stumbled forward to regain her footing. Where the hell was she now? She kept her hands out, waiting for the mist to clear. “Decker?”
“Right here,” came the response to her right. She saw her form, solidifying as the mist receded.
“Here’s to my big sis and her new job,” Robin heard Frank say. She was standing next to the refrigerator in his kitchen, in the apartment he had shared with two other guys during his college years. At least they kept it reasonably clean, though the décor was frat boy meets jock. A football sat on the kitchen counter next to three pint glasses with different beer logos on them. A neon “bar” sign hung in the window above the sink. It hummed and threw pale blue splotches on the linoleum. Her younger self raised her glass and smiled.
Decker leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, watching with interest.
“Really glad you’re here,” Frank continued. “Merry Christmas.” He gave her a one-arm hug, and Robin’s younger self grinned.
She’d just finished her master’s, Robin remembered, and gotten hired at a subsidiary of Frost.
“Merry Christmas,” younger Robin said, and older Robin remembered how excited Frank had been for her.
“Mom would’ve been proud,” he said and leaned back against
the counter. Like their mom, he had a favorite pair of old jeans and a sweatshirt he always wore around the house. He looked a lot like her, too, Robin realized, as she studied his curly hair, the same shade of brown as their mom’s, much lighter than her own. Both Robin and Frank had gotten their mom’s eyes, a deep brown. She was grateful for that, because the less she shared with her father, the better.
“You think?” younger Robin asked as she sipped the beer.
“Duh.” He smiled then lapsed into silence.
“Did you hear from Dad this year?”
He looked at her. “No. I stopped trying, though. No point in beating my head against that wall. You were right.” He set his beer on the counter and sighed.
“Hey,” younger Robin said. “It’s okay. You’ve got me.”
“I do. And I will always have your back, Rob. Always. No matter what happens. Don’t ever doubt that.”
His words dug into her chest as she thought about how she’d blown him off just a couple of days ago.
“I like your bro,” Decker said from the doorway.
“Me, too,” Robin responded, defensive.
“Got you something,” Frank said to younger Robin. “Be right back.” He left the kitchen, and Robin knew he was going into the living room where the beat-up little tree he and his roommates had “liberated” from the tree lot stood, decorated with cardboard bar coasters and Seahawks sports cards. She examined her younger self for a few moments. Seriously trippy, being on the outside of yourself. She looked stressed. Robin saw it in the way her younger self carried her shoulders and in the frown lines at the corners of her mouth. Grad school had worn her out. Hell, by that time, life had worn her out.
“Here you go.” Frank returned and handed her a small, flat package. Her younger self put her beer on the counter and opened it. Robin already knew what it was, but watching herself see it for the first time made her smile. Her younger self took the framed photograph out of the wrapping paper.
“Oh, no way. I love this photo.”
Robin knew it by heart. It currently sat on her dresser. Frank at age six, Robin at ten, and their mom, grinning as they stood on the porch of their house. Robin was dressed as a cowboy and Frank had his blue superhero cape on. Their dad had taken it. Robin considered it one of the rare good things he had done.
“Thanks,” younger Robin said, smiling. She put it carefully on the counter and gave Frank a big hug. “No gag gift this year?”
He laughed. “Maybe next year. I was feeling all sentimental.”
Robin watched, and a warmth she vaguely remembered spread through her limbs. She’d gotten Frank an autographed baseball and given it to him a few days before, signed by his favorite players from the Mariners. She knew that he had slept with it next to his bed for several months.
“So how about some Christmas pizza?” Frank asked as he opened his cell phone.
“Nice,” Decker said, approving.
Younger Robin laughed. “Hell, yes. Extra pepperoni and cheese.”
Frank grinned and pressed buttons on his keypad.
“Did you know where your dad was?” Decker asked.
“Not that year. Frank was in contact with him the year before, but then he stopped returning Frank’s calls.” Robin chewed her lip as she watched herself banter with Frank. They’d been tight, since they were kids. Until the last few years.
“How come you two don’t hang out anymore?”
Robin didn’t look at Decker. “I don’t know. Life got in the way, I guess.”
“Or it got in your way.” Decker straightened and stepped into the kitchen.
“Whatever,” Robin muttered.
“So next Christmas, should I find you a girlfriend?” Frank was asking her younger self.
“Oh, please. That’s the last thing I need.” She laughed and gave him a playful shove.
“I don’t know. Maybe you could use a little bit of settling down,” he teased. “Quit sowing so many oats and grow something instead.”
“That’s something Mom would’ve said.”
“She probably did. I just assimilated it.”
Younger Robin snickered. “How about we fire up the Playstation and shoot a bunch of bad guys?”
“No better way to celebrate Christmas.” He followed younger Robin out of the kitchen. Older Robin remembered that night. They’d stayed up almost all night, playing video games and munching on pizza. When they were kids, their mom would stay up with them, watching old movies, playing games, and eating popcorn. And though their dad hadn’t been around that much, those Christmases without him usually turned out all right. She heard Frank bellowing “Silent Night” in the other room and she smiled.
“Now that’s a cool Christmas,” Decker said.
“Yeah, it was.” Robin moved into the living room, where Frank was getting the game console ready. Her younger self was on the couch, her stocking feet propped on the coffee table. It was a great Christmas, she realized, watching her younger self laugh at Frank’s antics, and she wanted to stay, wanted to eat pizza and play video games and not care about anything but that moment.
But mist curled around her feet and moved up her legs like vines. “Just give me a few more minutes.” That’s all she wanted. Just a few more. Tears stung her eyelids, and the mist wrapped around her arms and chest. She heard Frank singing again, but his voice was fainter, and then she couldn’t see or hear anything and she was careening, weightless, through darkness. She wasn’t sure if her eyes were open or closed, and she yelled all the way down—was she even pointed that way?—until she snapped awake.
Robin was lying on her couch, covered by a blanket. Morning light was trying to make its way past the closed vertical blinds on her patio doors, but it wasn’t having much success. She heard the alarm going off in her bedroom, a series of insistent beeps. Thank God. A dream. She hadn’t dreamed about her mom in a while, and usually it left her unsettled. Today, it left her sad and sort of lonely. And why the hell had she dreamed about Jill? Was it even true, what she dreamed?
She groaned and sat up, stiff. The blanket fell on the floor as she stood to go turn the alarm off in her bedroom. Thirty minutes later, Robin was showered and dressed and feeling much better about things, though she couldn’t kick the sense of sadness she’d woken up with. She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder then went to her small, galley-style kitchen for a yogurt. She opened the fridge and automatically reached for the middle shelf. And then she stopped and slowly withdrew her hand. A pizza box sat on the bottom shelf, balanced on her cans of diet coke.
“No way,” she said. The graphic on the box depicted a smiling Santa holding a piece of pizza. Courtesy of the Bureau of Holiday Affairs, the neat red script said underneath him. So was she still dreaming? Was this one of those weird dreams within a dream? She reached into her fridge to take the pizza box out but withdrew her hand before she actually touched it. Her cell phone dinged with a text, and she jumped as she closed the fridge. The message was from Laura, informing her that her nine o’ clock meeting was delayed by fifteen minutes. That gave her time to get a cup of coffee on the way. A really big cup. Strongest coffee she could find. She left her apartment, unnerved and on edge.
Bureau of Holiday Affairs
Field Report: Preston, Robin Anne, DOB June 15, 1978//Seattle, WA
Case Number 26901-15
Agent: Decker, T.M.
Date of Interaction:
December 14
Methodology Employed: Decker pizza delivery. Standard Christmas Past intervention: Childhood, early college/Chen, sibling (Preston, Francis “Frank” Dean, DOB April 28, 1982), though I did include a visit to Chen after she dumped Preston for a dose of the other person’s side.
Results: Preston may have a heart. Tried to be indignant at outset, then resigned. Really affected when she saw her mom and when she saw Chen in the
aftermath of the breakup. Wanted to stay and watch a Christmas scene with brother when Preston was in grad school.
Observations/recommendations: Preston totally felt the scenes and engaged. Question is, will she recognize her own crap? I have a vibe that she will, but she’ll need a good kick in the butt for that. Audio and video filed.
Personal Overview: Preston’s breakup with Chen was a tough loss on top of her mom’s death. If she can pull the asshole stick out of her butt and recognize it for what it is, there’s a decent chance she could epiphany out of this rut. Her emotional responses to the scenes from her past were totally consistent with someone who has mad potential for an epiphany, but she might refuse this awesome opportunity out of pride and stubbornness. That’s the biggest hurdle.
CHAPTER 3
If she didn’t get her shit together, she could kiss her next promotion goodbye. Robin had been staring at the same image on her computer for a good hour. Just a mental block, that’s all. Though she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she might not be sane since that whole weird dream she’d had a few days ago. What kind of dream was so disturbingly accurate? That was part of what was freaking her out.
She clicked into email, answered a few, then clicked back to the presentation. Another few minutes crawled by. Frustrated, she stood and went to stare out the window, across the cityscape.
A long way from Seattle, in a lot of different ways. She and Frank used to spend summers mostly outside there, and even during the long, often gray winters it seemed she was outside more often than not. Here, however, she tended to stay inside. Too crowded to jog, too dirty and loud to spend much time outdoors, and parks were a pain in the ass to get to. When did her shift to the indoors happen, exactly? Because it wasn’t when she moved here. College?
A helicopter swooped low over the river. She and Jill used to hike all the time. Jill was into landscape photography at the time. Even after Jill broke it off, Robin still spent time outside. Graduate school was when it changed, she decided as she watched tugboats and barges on the river. That’s when she started living inside more than out. She had shifted to what she thought was urban and urbane, as if she’d been trying to leave her past behind, with its jeans and flannel and faded alt-rock T-shirts.