Chapter 2: Christmas Clichés and Breaking the Rules
"All right, peoples! Let's keep things moving!" Julien commanded as the residents decorated the apartment building's cafeteria they'd rented out.
"You could help, you know," Roy asked irritably as he set a candle on a table.
"I am helping! I am being the technical supervisor guy. I'm good at that," Julien said smugly. Roy rolled his eyes and continued setting a candle in the middle of each table. He turned as Marlene walked in with Becky and Stacy.
"Ah! Hello, ladies!" he said, approaching them with open arms. He took Becky's and Stacy's hands. "Enchante, mademoiselles," he said, kissing each of their hands. Marlene rolled her eyes as Becky and Stacy exchanged a humorous glance.
"Hey, Julien," Marlene said, "we just came down to see how things were coming, maybe help out a little."
"Well, of course!" Julien replied. "We are always welcoming three lovely ladies to the party," he said suavely, causing Becky and Stacy to smile and Marlene to cock an eyebrow. "Anyway," Julien continued, "any word from the guys?"
Marlene shifted her weight uncomfortably. "They'll be here sometime tonight," she said, trying to hide her anxiety.
Julien knit his eyebrows. "You don't seem too sure about that," he observed.
"They'll be here," Marlene insisted before walking off.
Julien looked at Becky and Stacy inquisitively, but they just held their hands up like they didn't want to say anything and followed her.
"Marlene," Stacy said, tenderly placing a hand on her shoulder as she rummaged through a box, "are you sure you want to be down here? I can tell you're really worried about this."
"I'm fine," Marlene insisted. "I just need something to distract me."
Becky and Stacy exchanged a glance, and then they smiled as the same thought crossed through their minds.
"Then we'll help," they said simultaneously.
Marlene cocked an eyebrow and watched as they crossed the room to where a radio was sitting idle on a table. Becky hit a button and adjusted the frequency, then turned it up loud enough to fill the room with "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree." Everyone turned as Becky and Stacy started moving to the beat.
"I say it's time for a break!" Becky called. The two crossed the room back to Marlene and each took an arm as they dragged her to the center of the room.
"Whoa, no, guys, I don't really feel up to—"
"Come on, Marlene!" Becky insisted.
"The only way to make time fly is to have some fun!" Stacy added as they started dancing with her. Soon enough everyone else dropped what they were doing and joined in. While Julien took Stacy and shared a dance with her, Becky continued to encourage Marlene to let loose. Marlene glanced around at everyone around her having a good time and without realizing it, she too was moving to the beat.
With a smile, she decided to forget her troubles, and she danced with all her friends.
— § —
"I'm gonna kill him! I'm gonna kill him!" Skipper said, hitting the steering wheel as they sat idle on the side of the frozen interstate.
"Well, you know Rico gets hungry when he travels," Kowalski said, trying to calm him down.
"But we're already running behind! It seems like everything that could go wrong is going wrong! Is he done yet?" he asked, trying to see Rico out of Kowalski's window. He could just barely see him crouched by a bush, holding his stomach.
Kowalski sighed. "Maybe. Look on the bright side, at least you managed to pull over first," he suggested.
Skipper gripped the top of the steering wheel with both hands and rested his forehead on his knuckles. He felt a hand on his shoulder, but he didn't look to see who it was.
"Don't give up hope, Skipper," said Private's voice. "I'm sure we'll find a way. We always do, don't we?"
"There's a first time for everything, Private," Skipper said irresolutely.
Private exchanged a glance with Kowalski as Rico climbed back in the car, his face a sickly green.
"How do you feel, Rico?" Kowalski asked.
Rico put his seat back and turtled into his jacket with a moan.
"I'm going to take that as well enough to move on," Kowalski said, nudging Skipper to put the car in gear.
Skipper sat back and started them moving again. "What time is it?" he asked with a sigh.
Kowalski checked his watch. "Nearly eleven," he answered.
Skipper scoffed. "We still have just over two hours to drive. There's no way we'll be able to pick up our tickets and get through security before the flight leaves."
"Sorry, Skipper . . ." Rico mumbled in the backseat.
Skipper looked at him in the rearview mirror and sighed. "It's all right, Rico. It's not your fault," he said, "mostly," he added under his breath.
Kowalski thought for a moment and smiled. "I know, maybe some Christmas music will help cheer you up."
He turned on the radio and turned up the volume. He nearly facepalmed when he realized what was playing.
. . . a long road back, and I promise you.
I'll be home for Christmas.
You can count on me.
Please have snow, and mistletoe,
And presents under the tree—
Kowalski awkwardly reached over and changed the station. He smiled. This one wasn't so bad. He frowned when the chorus started.
. . . tuning up all the Jing-Jing-Jinglin' sleigh bells
And rehearsing jolly Ho Ho Hos
Oh, don't you know that one way or another
I'll be coming home for Christmas day!
Doesn't matter any kind of weather
You know that I'll always find a way!—
This time, Skipper reached over and changed the station as Kowalski fiddled with his fingers in his lap.
. . . my own in a big red bow!
Santa, can you hear me?
I have been so good this year.
And all I want is one thing:
Tell me my true love is near!
He's all I want! Just for me!
Underneath my Christmas tree!
I'll be waiting here.
Santa that's my only wish this year—
Kowalski reached over and switched the radio off. "Maybe later," he said with a nervous smile, internally cursing at himself. Of course, the old 'every station reminds me of my problems' gag. What a cliché.
— § —
Around half after noon, Marlene and her cousins were elbow deep in flour and cookie dough.
"I'll get the cookie cutters," Marlene said before realizing there was flour all over her hands. She laughed. "Probably should've grabbed them before getting the dough ready."
She grabbed a towel from next to the sink and wrapped it around her hand, using it to open a cabinet and pulling out a jar of holiday cookie cutters.
Becky took it from her and dumped the contents onto the counter. "Ooh! I want the mistletoe!" she squealed, taking that particular cutter and pushing it into her cookie dough. Stacy grabbed an angel and pressed it into hers.
Marlene looked over the cookie cutters and spotted a snowman. She took it in her hands. It reminded her of this one time she had a sinus infection near the holidays. She was miserable and couldn't do much of anything than eat, sleep, and watch television. Skipper would come check on her when he wasn't busy with anything. One of those times, he came in and surprised her with a big bucket of snow. The two of them made a tiny snowman together. It left her fingers numb, but she had fun doing it. She pressed the snowman cutter into her dough and promised herself that that one would be for Skipper when he returned tonight.
"Everything all right, Marlene?" Becky asked, pushing a gingerbread man into her dough.
"Yeah, I just thought of something is all," Marlene replied, pushing a star into hers.
"Well, think about the cookies!" Stacy said. "We're doing this to keep your mind occupied from certain things and certain people," she told her, giving her a stern look.
Marlene nodded. "Right. The cookies. And thanks for trying to help," she said.
"No problem, cousin! Think fast!" Becky said, poking her cheek, leaving a spot of flour behind.
"Hey!" Marlene said, trying to reach Becky's face, but she held her wrist. Marlene used her free hand to throw some at her, but some of it landed on Stacy as well.
Eventually, the three of them were covered in flour, their cookies forgotten.
— § —
"Yes, I was planning a flight to Manhattan at two-thirty, but I'm not going to make it. Can you tell me when the next nonstop to Manhattan is?" Skipper asked someone at the Eastern Oregon Regional Airport as he sat idle in traffic just twenty minutes away, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
"Just a moment," the woman on the other end said, "looks like the next nonstop to Manhattan isn't until nine-twenty tonight, sir."
Skipper shoved his tongue into his cheek. "You're sure there's nothing earlier?"
"Well, if you're in a hurry, there's a three-ten to Scottsbluff, Nebraska and you can take a flight straight from there to Manhattan and be there just after midnight," she suggested.
Skipper considered. "Can you hold on a moment?"
"Yes, sir."
Skipper muted his receiver and looked at Private and Rico in the rear view mirror. "The next nonstop is at nine-twenty tonight, but she said there's a three-ten to Nebraska and take a flight straight from there to Manhattan."
"Fine with me," Private answered.
Rico just held up a water bottle, as if in toast, and then downed the rest of it. Skipper took it as a yes.
"Ma'am?" he said into his phone after unmuting it.
"Yes, sir?" the woman answered.
"Thank you for your help," Skipper said.
"You're welcome, sir. Have a wonderful day, and a Merry Christmas!" the woman replied.
"You, too," Skipper said before hanging up. "Come on, we're almost there!" he shouted at the traffic in front of him, which was moving just a couple car lengths every half hour. There was an accident that'd occurred ahead because of the ice and the policemen had to gradually direct traffic into the right lane.
Rico reached a Hershey Kiss around his seat. "Kiss?" he offered.
Skipper rolled his eyes. "No," he declined. Then he thought for a moment. "Yes," he said, holding his hand back to him. Rico dropped a Kiss into it. He unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. He let the chocolate melt in his mouth.
"Skipper, it's only one-thirty," Kowalski said. "We're not too far off. In fact, I think I see our exit right up there," he said, pointing down the road.
Skipper thought for a moment. "Hey, Private," he called.
"Yes, Skipper?" Private called back.
"Do me a favor. Crawl to the back of the van and find my suitcase. My badge is in the small pocket in the front. Get it for me," he told him.
"Um, okay," Private said, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Why?"
"Just do it, all right?" Skipper replied.
Private climbed between the seats and rummaged through the luggage in the back. A couple minutes later, he produced Skipper's badge and he turned around. "Here it is."
"Climb back in your seat," Skipper said. Private did as told and buckled himself back in. He handed Skipper his badge. "Thanks. Now, everyone hold on."
The team exchanged a glance.
Kowalski looked at him warily. "Why do we have to hold on?"
Skipper smiled. "Let's just say I'm glad we had to get in the right lane," he said as he pulled the car to the right and started driving down the emergency lane.
"Skipper! This is illegal! I shouldn't have to tell you that, you're a cop!" Kowalski scolded.
Skipper clenched his teeth. "I know that, Kowalski. I'm not proud of it, but it's Christmas, and I made a promise to Marlene. If I get pulled over, I'll just show 'em my badge and move on."
"Skipper, you're abusing your shield! That's illegal too!" Kowalski argued.
"You think I don't know that, Kowalski?" Skipper said, turning at the Exit. "It's once in seventeen years of service! Let it go."
Kowalski laughed incredulously and ran his hand over his face. "Could you at least slow down? The flight leaves at three-ten, not in ten minutes. That's another law you're breaking, by the way."
Skipper rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said, easing off the gas. But before he got the chance, a flash of blue and red lights blinked behind them. Skipper was expecting that to happen with the policemen dealing with the accident on the interstate. He pulled over and waited for the officer to come to his door before rolling down his window.
"License and registration, please," she asked. She was a stout African-American woman with her head covered in a thick hat that covered the top of her small ears. Her nametag read MEREB.
Skipper showed her his badge. "Ma'am, I'm police. I need to be somewhere."
Mereb examined his badge. "That's a New York Police badge, sir. Why are you in Oregon? More importantly, why are you in Oregon trying to use your New York badge to get out of a speeding ticket?"
"I—I'm tracking a lead, ma'am," he lied.
Mereb narrowed her eyes. "And who are they?" she asked, pointing to the other three in the car.
"They're my unit. They came with me," Skipper answered.
Mereb set her jaw in thought. "Let me get your badge number and confirm this. Which precinct do you work for?"
Skipper blinked. "Ma'am, we're in a hurry here. If we don't go now, we could miss our lead."
In the passenger seat, Kowalski fidgeted. He hated Skipper lowering himself to lying to a policeman, especially when he was one himself, but he understood why he was doing it. He made a promise to Marlene, and he never broke his promises. He sighed.
"Officer," he called. Mereb leaned down so she could see him. "Please. If we don't catch this lead and solve this case, we can't go home. My son wants me home for Christmas, and I want to be there," he lied.
Mereb looked down for a moment, and then sighed. "Fine. Consider this a Christmas warning. Go on," she said before walking back to her vehicle without waiting for a reply.
Skipper looked at him. "Thanks," he said with a grateful smile. "I'm sorry I lied . . . again."
Kowalski looked at the road in front of them. "Don't worry about it. It's Christmas," he said, looking toward him with an understanding smile. "We should go. But, uh, go the speed limit, all right?" he added with a grin.
Skipper put the car in gear. "Fine, if you want to take the fun out of everything," he said with a laugh.
Private pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm really confused, are you two still mad at each other or are we okay now?"
Skipper and Kowalski laughed. Private propped his head up by his fist.
"I'm taking that as a yes," he muttered.
— § —
At the airport, Skipper, Rico, and Private grabbed their luggage from the rental, which consisted of one suitcase and one carry-on each, and started their goodbyes to Kowalski.
Private hugged him. "I'll miss you, Kowalski! I hope you make it home for Christmas!" he told him.
Kowalski patted his back. "Don't worry about me, Private. I'll see you soon."
Rico grasped his hand and pressed his shoulder to his, using his other hand to pat his back. "Miss you, buddy," he said.
"Miss you, too, Rico," Kowalski said, patting his back. They parted and Kowalski turned to Skipper, who was looking at the ground.
"Can you guys, uh, give us a minute?" he requested.
Private and Rico exchanged a glance and nodded as they gathered their luggage and made their way inside the airport.
"Look, Kowalski, I—"
"I know what you're going to say, Skipper," Kowalski interrupted. "You don't need to—"
"No, you don't know what I'm going to say," Skipper said, looking at him with defeated eyes. He crossed his arms and didn't make eye contact. "I know I'm not perfect. There are things in my past I wish I could change. I just wanted you to know that—" He paused and finally met his eye. "I wanted you to know that what you're doing for me now is . . . It's something I could never repay, not fully. I really don't know how to thank you, Kowalski. I don't deserve a friend like you."
Kowalski smiled. "I don't believe that. Besides, Skipper, we're brothers. Whether you deserve one like me or not, you're stuck with me," he said, bracing a hand on his shoulder.
Skipper smiled and they embraced. "I hope to see you in Manhattan real soon," he said over his shoulder.
"You too, Skipper. Now, go. Marlene's waiting for you," he told him, pulling away.
Skipper nodded and grabbed his luggage. "See you on the other side of the nation, Kowalski," he said.
Kowalski gave a salute and Skipper ran off into the airport.
He found Private and Rico waiting in line to get their tickets. Rico was munching on a granola bar.
"Where are you getting all this food?" Skipper asked. Rico opened up his duffel bag to reveal all kinds of snacks. Skipper rolled his eyes. "Of course. Got any Dibbles? I'm starving,"
"Regular or spicy?" Rico asked through his granola bar.
Skipper cocked an eyebrow. "Uh, regular, I guess."
Rico reached into the bag and despite its jumbled mess, he pulled out a bag of Cheezy Dibbles as if each thing had its own specific place and handed it to him. Skipper accepted it in and opened it, popping a Dibble into his mouth.
"What time is it?" he asked between crunches.
Private looked at his cell phone. "Just past two. We might just make it," he said with a smile.
Skipper licked the cheese off his fingers and rolled up the top of the bag before putting it in his jacket pocket. He picked up his luggage and they moved forward with the line. Skipper looked at the flight board and found the Pendleton to Scottsbluff. Next to it read "ON TIME" in big letters. Skipper smiled. "I'm on my way, Marlene," he said softly to himself.
At the desk, a woman sat behind it wearing square, black glasses with her blonde hair tied back in a knot. She was wearing a red Christmas sweater with tiny reindeer all over it, running in different directions.
"Three for the three-ten to Scottsbluff, Nebraska, please," Skipper requested.
"Photo identification, please," the woman requested in a Bronx accent. Skipper, Rico, and Private all handed her their driver's licenses. After processing them, she said, "Twelve hundred thirty dollars, sir. Cash or credit?"
"Credit," Skipper said with a sigh. This was eating up his savings. He scanned his credit card and paid the bill. The woman told them to be through the gates prior to ten minutes before departure. Soon after, the three of them were moving toward the next security checkpoint with their boarding passes.
After getting through the metal detectors, they found their gate just as they were almost finished boarding. Skipper checked the time on his phone—it was just a few minutes until three.
"Hey, you two go ahead and board, I just want to call Marlene for a few seconds before we take off," he told them. Private and Rico nodded and gave their boarding passes to the man at the gate and continued on to the plane.
Skipper took out his cell and dialed Marlene.
"Skipper?" Marlene answered.
"Yeah, it's me. Just letting you know I'm boarding a plane to Nebraska now, and I'll catch a flight to Manhattan from there. I'll be there sometime in the middle of the night," Skipper told her.
Marlene sighed with relief. "That's great! I'm so glad. I can't wait to see you."
Skipper smiled. "You, too, Marlene."
"Last call for boarding at Gate 14," said a voice over the intercom.
"Look, Marlene, I need to go. I'll see you later," Skipper said.
"All right, Skipper. See you," she said, hanging up.
Skipper turned his phone off and tucked it into his pocket. He turned to head for the gate when he realized he didn't have his boarding pass and felt a momentary sense of panic, but sighed with relief when he realized he'd dropped it a few yards behind him. He picked it up and turned back, his stomach turning over when he saw the man at the gate pulling the door shut.
"Wait!" he called, breaking into a sprint for the door. "Wait, this is my flight."
"Sorry, we just boarded. You should've come earlier," the man said, looking down at him.
"Sir, please, I had to drive all the way from Seattle last minute because the snow is too heavy up there for any flights. My girlfriend's in Manhattan, I promised I'd be there. Please," he begged.
"I'm sorry, sir, the gate is closed. They'll be pulling the airstairs away from the plane now. There's nothing I can do," he said.
Skipper scoffed and put his face in his free hand. "You've got to be kidding me," he said under his breath. "Thanks anyway," he said, turning and trudging back through the airport. Let's see here, Skipper thought, Kowalski sacrificed going home for Christmas for nothing, four hundred ten dollars down the drain, wasted time, and another plan to get home failed. He went back to the ticket desk.
"Can I help you?" asked the woman with the glasses.
"Yes," Skipper answered in an urgent tone, "I missed the flight. I need to know of flights that will land me in Manhattan by tomorrow."
The woman worked at her computer for a moment. "Well, the snowstorms have been getting worse throughout the northern regions. Many flights have either been delayed or cancelled. The earliest I see is a four-twenty to Bloomington, Illinois, take a flight from there to Manhattan," she explained.
Skipper let out an anxious breath. "How long will that take?"
"About five to six hours, if you go straight through," she answered.
"And the cost?" Skipper asked with a wince.
"Just you?" the woman followed up. Skipper nodded weakly. "Probably looking at about six hundred dollars."
Skipper nodded slowly. "I guess there's no way I'm getting my money back for this, right?" he said, holding up his boarding pass.
The woman shook her head. "No refunds. Sorry."
Skipper nodded again. "Figured. Thanks," he said, turning and walking to a waiting area. He set his was-to-be carry-on bag on the ground and sat down a couple seats away from a man talking to someone on the phone. He seemed upset. Skipper pulled out his phone and turned it back on, and then called Kowalski.
"Hello?" answered Kowalski's voice.
"Hey. It's me," Skipper replied.
"Skipper? Shouldn't you be on board?" Kowalski asked.
Skipper closed his eyes. "Kowalski, this isn't easy to say, but I missed the flight. I let Private and Rico board, and I was just going to call Marlene for just a minute to let her know I was going to be there soon, and by the time I turned around, they were shutting the gates. I feel like the biggest idiot on earth. I'm so sorry, Kowalski. You sacrificed going home for me, and I blew it."
He heard Kowalski sigh. "Don't worry, I'm not mad. To be honest, I feel too sorry for you to be upset. I know you were so happy to have a way back to Manhattan. Did you check to see if there were any more flights available soon?"
"Yeah. She said my best bet to get to Manhattan as quick as possible is to take a plane to Bloomington, Illinois, and then to Manhattan. I don't have enough money for that."
"How much money do you have? I thought you had quite a bit saved up," Kowalski asked.
"I did," Skipper said, feeling the outline of something in his pocket, "but plane tickets are expensive. I'm down to about four hundred bucks."
There was a brief pause. "Well, as much as it pains me to suggest this," Kowalski said regretfully, "Julien has more money than he knows what to do with. Why don't you ask him for some money to buy the plane tickets?"
Skipper busted out laughing. "Oh, whew! That's funny, Kowalski. I guess that's one way to get me to laugh at a time like this."
"Um, actually, I was serious. I'd offer some money myself, but um," he started with a laugh, "I kind of still owe Alice for that hole I blew in her wall from that experiment gone wrong, heh. She isn't letting it slide just because it's Christmas."
Skipper sighed. "I don't know, Kowalski. I've never had to ask anyone for money before, let alone Julien. What makes you think he'll help me, anyway?"
"While you two may have your differences, I assure you, he'd want you there for Christmas. And maybe you could tug his heart strings a little by telling him you want to be there with Marlene," Kowalski suggested.
Skipper cringed at the thought of asking Julien for help—especially financial help.
"Come on, Skipper. Swallow your pride this one time. For Marlene," Kowalski urged.
Skipper tensed as he forced the words out. "Fine. I'll . . . call Julien," he finished through his teeth. "Goodbye, Kowalski."
"Over and out," Kowalski said before ending the call.
Skipper took a deep breath and searched through his contacts for "Man Child." But just before he sent the call to Julien, the man that was on the phone when he'd sat down scooted next to him.
"Excuse me," he said in a hillbilly-sounding accent. Not one you'd expect from a man in Oregon.
"Um," Skipper said, awkwardly looking around to ensure he was talking to him, "do I know you?"
"No," the man said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear, did you say you wanted a flight to Bloomington?"
Skipper's heart fluttered. "Y-es? Can you help me?"
The man laughed. "Gomer Cummings," he said, holding out his hand and shaking Skipper's. "I was supposed to fly to see my brother, Bo, for Christmas, and he said he was in DeKalb. Why, I thought he meant DeKalb, Illinois, but naw, he meant DeKalb, Texas. Sure makes a whole lot more sense since we're southern folk, you know? But now I got this ticket and ain't got no use for it. The lady at the desk says no refunds. If you want it, you're welcome to it. I'd hate to see my money go to waste," he said, holding out his boarding pass to him.
Skipper eyed the boarding pass as if it was a juicy tenderloin. Then he looked at Gomer. "Are you sure? You don't even know me."
"Well, you look like a man that wants to be home on Christmas, and I got no business in Illinois," he replied, pronouncing the 's' in 'Illinois.' "Take it."
Skipper took the pass in his hand. "Thank you, sir. I really don't know what to say." His eyes glossed over.
"Aw, it wasn't that big a thang, mister. No use leakin' your eyes 'bout it," Gomer said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Skipper shook his head. "No, you don't understand. You just saved me from doing something horrible! Thank you!" he said, throwing his arms around him.
Gomer awkwardly patted his back. "No—problem, mister. I, uh, really should go, now."
Skipper let go. "Sorry," he said with a sniffle. "Merry Christmas."
"You, too," Gomer said with a smile. He stood up and left him.
Skipper looked at the boarding pass in his hands and smiled. "I'm on my way, Marlene."
— § —
Note: The songs that were used in the "every station reminds me of my problems" scene were: I'll Be Home for Christmas by various artists, One Way or Another by Jesse McCartney, and My Only Wish (This Year) by Britney Spears (not a fan, just have a couple clean songs by her).
Yes, I just had to add Cheezy Dibbles to Rico's snack stash. It was the perfect opportunity!