I like the way that our arguments stop when we fall asleep
And the way that your body feels when it's wrapped around me
And I'd like it if you made it to mine by Christmas Eve
So you can hold me
And we'll watch Christmas TV
"Christmas TV"
Slow Club
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT
December 20, 2012
Echo Park, Los Angeles, California
"Did I ever like that?" Sarah called to Chuck from the kitchen in their apartment, walking with a cup of coffee in each hand towards the sofa where her husband sat.
"You never complained about it, if that's what you mean, at least until today," he said with a twisted smile, reaching up to take his cup from her.
She sat beside him, curling her legs up underneath her and snuggling against him. He lifted his arm and draped it over the back of the sofa. "I wasn't complaining," she said with a sweet smile. "Any time my husband wants to cook dinner for me, I will never complain. It just…isn't sitting right with me right now. Do I like spicy food?"
He sputtered on his coffee, laughing at the way the words sounded. "We sound like an old married couple," he said with a chuckle. "You enjoyed it in small quantities. Although, relatively speaking, it wasn't that spicy. But you ate spicy food before you met me, as far as I could tell."
"Did Morgan, you know, have his taste change once the Intersect messed him up?" she asked him. Morgan always referred to it as melting his brain, but having gone through a similar situation, only much worse, she couldn't quite refer to it the same way in conversation.
Chuck's smile faded only a little, reminded acutely as to why she was asking him what she liked. In the past ten months, her memory had come back in a very slow trickle. He had been disheartened, worrying that without her memories of their past, that things would have changed between them. But she had told him on the beach she wanted to stay, to be with him, and a few days later that she loved him. Her love started at a different place than his, but it was there nonetheless. He was here with her, cuddling on the sofa in the dim light, in front of their Christmas tree, and no matter what else it was or wasn't, it was enough.
"No," he answered her, shaking himself out of his reverie. "He just forgot some stuff, you know, movies and nerd trivia or whatever. Nothing else strange or anything like that."
She sipped her coffee, grimacing as she pulled it away, like it was too bitter. She shivered and put it down. "I'm sorry, that coffee is horrible," she told him, reaching for his cup.
"No, it's not. It's fine, Sweetie," he told her, pulling the cup back from her grasp, looking at the surface of the coffee as if it would explain why she thought so.
She shrugged, then laid her head against his shoulder. "Did you hear back from your sister?" she asked him.
"This morning," he told her. "It looks like it's just us this year. Ellie and Devon both have to work so my Mom is headed to Chicago to watch Clara. Morgan and Alex are spending the day with Alex's Mom."
He sounded disappointed, but he was smiling. "I'm sorry, Sweetie," she said, reaching for his cheek. "Although, I won't lie. I think it's kind of nice being here, just the two of us." She leaned close to him, softly kissing him, tasting his coffee on his lips.
"It's kind of a first, you know. Us being alone on Christmas," he whispered.
"Ok, Christmas," she said, perking up. She did this sometimes, about certain topics, when she wanted to gauge exactly what she remembered. There was no real pattern to her returned memories, just random thoughts that she couldn't always place in the chronological timeline. As she had learned very early on, intense emotions, both positive and negative, had unearthed the greatest number of memories.
He had infinite patience when it came to this, she knew and understood with admiration. He never pushed, never got frustrated. Always just talked to her, helped her sort it out, filled in the blanks with his memories. At first she had been troubled by the disparity, but somehow knowing that everything still lived in his heart was comforting. "This is number six," he said. "In 2007, you came to the Buy More Holiday party with me."
Her face lit up. "Oh, you bought me an alarm clock!" she said, smiling at him.
He couldn't help but smile in return, feeling it pull at his insides when she was happy. "You, uh, used your knife as a snooze button on the old one. You gave me a picture of us in a frame that you took at my sister's Halloween party earlier that year."
"But then I was called back to D.C. I was away for the holiday, but you called me, didn't you?" she asked.
"To wish you Merry Christmas, and invite you to my sister's New Year's Eve party, which she hemmed and hawed over but finally decided to have at the last minute while you were gone," he said.
"You kissed my cheek under the mistletoe that Devon hung over us," she said, tilting her head and smiling.
"And he spent the rest of the night lecturing me about not being aggressive enough with you," Chuck said, closing his eyes and rubbing his face.
"Good advice, don't you think?" she said suggestively, rubbing her hand on the back of his neck.
Close to her mouth, he said softly, "Not really then, but, maybe, for later." She kissed him again, then rested her head against his chest.
"In 2009, you weren't here. You were in Prague, alone, training," she said, tracing her fingers along the button placard on his shirt.
"That was the only Christmas until this one that I wasn't going to see my sister," he said, running his fingers through her hair, tracing his fingertips on her scalp in a soft massage. His words were so lightly tinged with sadness, but she could detect it. She still knew him better than anyone, even with all the giant holes in her memory.
"I had Chinese food with Casey that year," she murmured, comfortably breathing in the scent of him like an intoxicant.
" That you remember?" he teased.
"I missed you," she whispered wistfully. "That I remember. I remember that feeling–having a broken heart. For the first time in my life."
He gathered her hair into his hand, holding it gently and stroking the back of her neck. "Sometimes I wish you remembered more happy things and less sad things."
"It wouldn't be so sad if I didn't remember how much I loved you, even then, when it was so hard. For both of us," she gushed. After a short silence, she added, "I remember 2010, though. We lived together here. We spent the holiday with your sister and Devon. She was pregnant with Clara. You bought me a beautiful pair of earrings. We were sitting in front of the tree. I put them on, but I took everything else off and we…" Her voice was thick, desire burning inside her at the memory.
He hummed softly, remembering what she referenced. "We certainly did," he said, his voice hoarse and his arm around her pulling her closer to him. "I had already bought your ring, but I was waiting for something a little more special than just Christmas to ask you."
Comfortable silence stretched between them. "Last Christmas Shaw tried to kill you," she blurted, her muscles tensing under his arm.
"And almost you, too, if it hadn't been for Casey and Morgan," he said softly. "That's pretty good, Sarah. Four out of five, not bad," he said, kissing her forehead as she laid her head back down.
"So 2008. I don't remember that at all. What happened then?" she asked him.
"Fulcrum sent an agent posing as a common criminal to take hostages in the Buy More," he said, tilting his head and waiting to see if it jogged any memories. Her face was confused, frustrated in her concentration that was garnering no results.
He felt the sadness rise, never understanding clearly before that she didn't remember that Christmas, when he had given her his mother's bracelet. Not wanting her to see his disappointment, he asked, "Do you remember the bracelet from the party last year?"
She nodded slowly, her eyes shifting to the side as she tried to remember. "You put it on my wrist, said you didn't have time to shop for me, it wasn't a new gift. You gave that to me before?"
"In 2008," he said. He heard her intake of breath, knowing she at least knew the timeline, and that in 2008, they were supposed to be pretending to be a couple. "It belonged to my mother." She sighed, nuzzling closer to him, remembering too that in 2008, his mother was out of the picture and had been since he was nine. "I gave it to you during the hostage situation."
It was only a picture, a brief memory as it flashed and then disappeared. Kneeling in front of him, his thumb running across the back of her hand, the bracelet dangling over the cuff of her light blue sweatshirt. "In the DVD section," she whispered.
He sat upright, tucking his finger under her chin and lifting her face. "You remember?" he said in awe, never setting expectations too high. His mention of it had triggered something, even if it wasn't the whole memory.
"Just your face. The way you touched me," she said, smiling at him. What was most important, she thought hopefully.
"They maneuvered to get you and Casey away from me, then leveraged my sister against me to find where the Intersect was. I had to tell him or he would have killed her. You and Casey came after me, rescued me," he finished, purposely leaving out the part that had scarred him at the time.
"And 2012, I am alone with my husband in our apartment, and the world is supposed to end tomorrow," she laughed.
"If I only have eight more hours to live, there is no place else on earth I would rather be than here, with you, alone," he said, smiling, but the sincerity in his eyes was unmistakable. She leaned forward, holding his face and kissing him.
It started softly, slowly, but her passion stirred the flames inside. She opened her mouth, leaning him back into the sofa cushions as he responded in kind. The kiss lasted forever, and he felt her hands inside his shirt, flicking the buttons open with one hand and reaching around behind him to untuck and pull at his shirt.
Breathless when she finally pulled away, he gasped, "Three times in 24 hours? I think that's a new record, not counting the train. Not that I'm complaining," he mumbled softly to her, before kissing her arduously again. He lifted up, standing, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her into their bedroom.
XXX
He flopped next to her, trying to catch his breath. She curled into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. He traced delicate lines up and down her back as his mind wandered pleasantly in his contentment. The intimate aspect of their relationship had taken time to rediscover. She had agreed to stay, to live with him, despite the spotty nature of her memories. The kiss hadn't worked as a magic panacea, so that she was suddenly back to normal, but kissing him had awoken something inside her, something deeper than just her mind, something in her heart that was undeniable.
Two days later, she had put her wedding ring back on. Another day later she had told him she loved him. She didn't remember loving him–she loved him again, armed with only the memory of the last week. They had fallen in love practically at first sight the first time–it was no stretch for him to believe it had happened again, not when he could look in her eyes and see it there, the same as it had always been. But it hadn't been until almost the end of May when they had finally made love again.
He thought of it in that term specifically, because she had told him now, just as she had told him in Paris so many years ago, being with him like that was like nothing else she had ever experienced. She gave him all of herself, because she belonged to him, because he was part of her. He hadn't realized the significance of it while it was happening, only knowing how desperately he had missed her, being close to her.
She had started crying, initially making him worry that he had moved too quickly, causing something she regretted. Only for her to explain, in deep, emotional language he so rarely heard from her even the most tender of moments when her memory had been intact. And then he understood. They had been lovers for two years in his mind, and he knew her, everything, including how to please her. For her it had been like the first time again, only with someone who almost seemed to be reading her mind, fulfilling her wishes and desires before she could even express them. Her body remembered his touch, even if her mind could not. It had opened the floodgates, so much of their intimate moments now recallable to her.
It was never about the physical aspect of it, rather the feelings it unearthed. It had turned her perception of moving forward on its head. She was most comfortable with him, someone she loved but had so little memory of their history together, in the most intimate of situations. Sometimes it was awkward eating dinner, interacting with his family or friends, but never when they were like that, attached to each other, nothing between their bodies but their hearts beating in synchrony. They had rebuilt their relationship from the core outward, to the point where it was comfortable again everywhere.
He heard her breathing, heavily and spaced out, indicating she had fallen asleep. He let his blissful fatigue envelop him, thankful as always that despite how close he had come to losing her, she was here with him, and the life they had wanted was still there, within their reach. She had asked him earlier in the month what he wanted for Christmas, and he told her, honestly, she had already given it to him. He drifted to sleep, wondering vaguely what she was dreaming about.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST
December 25, 2008
Echo Park, Los Angeles, California
"Merry Christmas," Sarah said gleefully as Chuck opened the door, handing him a bottle of wine. He saw a small canvas bag in her hand, several wrapped gifts inside. He held out his hand, taking it from her and moving to set it next to the Christmas tree. Chuck had mentioned to dress casually, as they rarely got out of pajamas on Christmas. She wore old jeans and a soft sweatshirt, with her hair pulled back into a messy bun.
"Merry Christmas, Sarah," she heard, called by Ellie, Devon, and Morgan, all seated in front of the television. She could smell something delicious cooking, the whole apartment filled with the aroma. Pine scented candles burning, fresh cinnamon, something sweet and savory. Her mouth was already watering.
"I'm glad you decided to come," he said softly, smiling, though the smile seemed weak, almost forced. She opened her mouth to talk to him, but he walked away.
Frowning, she turned back to the rest of the group. Ellie was snuggling in Devon's arms, looking so comfortable it almost hurt her to watch it. Morgan barely acknowledged her, positively moping, staring at the tv blankly.
"Would you like anything to drink, Sarah? Coffee? Hot chocolate?" Chuck called from the kitchen. She walked into the kitchen instead of answering him from afar.
"Hot chocolate sounds nice," she sighed with a smile. "I haven't had that since I was little, to tell you the truth."
He scoffed, forcing a breath out through his nose and saying nothing.
"Chuck? Is everything ok?" she asked.
He shook himself, blinking hard, like he was resetting his face in front of her, "No, no, everything is fine." He moved to the fridge, grabbed her a mug, and filled it with milk. He stood in front of the microwave with his back to her while it heated. He grabbed the powdered cocoa and a spoon, scooping gently and stirring, a little too forcefully, spilling droplets on the counter that he grabbed the dish towel to mop up.
She took the mug from him, watching the tiny marshmallows melt as the steam drifted upwards. "Yesterday was hard for everyone, I know. It can be traumatic. How's everyone handling it?" she asked, trying to ignore his strange mood.
"My sister and Devon are fine. You know, being doctors, they're used to stress. Maybe not that type of stress, but they're trained to deal with it anyway. Besides, they have each other," he said, sounding jealous and wistful at the same time.
She looked back at him, even though his gaze was focused outward at his family. Sarah couldn't read him, something she wasn't at all accustomed to. "What about Morgan?" she asked him, noting how lost he seemed.
"He and Anna broke up," Chuck mumbled.
"That's too bad. They were kinda cute together," she said, sipping her hot chocolate and standing beside him. He gave her a weird look, like he couldn't believe she had said what she did. "What? They were," she defended herself. Chuck turned his back to her, leaning into the sink to wash the dishes he had just dirtied.
"Ellie, everything smells so good," Sarah called as she began walking back out into the living room after him.
"There are cinnamon rolls on the counter from breakfast. Dinner won't be ready until probably 3," Ellie replied.
"So Twilight Zone, huh?" Sarah said, sitting down beside Morgan. "How did that come into fashion?"
Ellie smiled, her mouth creasing slightly. "My Dad always loved this show." Sarah looked over her shoulder as she heard Chuck approach, his face turned away as he sat in the chair instead of beside her.
"Christmas was different when we were really small, and our parents were around. Once my mother left, my father sort of gave up. But we could still all sit together and watch on Christmas. It passed the time, you know, when everyone else seemed to be having family time," she finished, smiling, though Sarah could see how much it hurt her to say it.
"That first year Ellie made my Christmas present. She glued popsicle sticks together and made a little garage with a gas pump that I could drive my Hot Wheels in and out of. She painted it blue and white, and the gas pump was orange. How long did that take you to make, El?" Chuck asked.
"I started right after Mom left, so two months I guess," she said quietly, her body shifting as Devon squeezed her with compassion.
Sarah was speechless, not having the right words in the moment to express, and certainly not without becoming overly emotional. Her childhood woes aside, she could sometimes forget in many ways Chuck had had it just as difficult, just in a different way.
"Once my Dad was gone, and it was just me and El, you know," he started, but couldn't finish. He looked down, around, in any direction to avoid looking at her.
Her first instinct was to apologize, but she wasn't sorry she heard this, knew this, about him. "You guys were very lucky to have each other, no matter what," she added with a smile.
She felt Chuck looking at her, knowing he knew from her recent visit with her father that her situation had been similar, but the differences stood out regardless. He at least had his sister–she had been alone for a very long time.
His invitation today had been so she felt included, felt like she belonged with his family. It may have been pretend on the outside, but in his heart, there was no line of demarcation. She was, and always would be, part of his family. He hated that he couldn't shake his dark mood, that he was making her uncomfortable when he had wanted her to feel at home.
"Oh, Chuck, you love this episode!" Ellie exclaimed, turning up the volume. Both Sarah and Chuck turned their attention to the distinctive voice of Rod Serling narrating.
This, as the banner already had proclaimed, is Mr. Harvey Hunnicut, an expert on commerce and con jobs, a brash, bright, and larceny-loaded wheeler and dealer who, when the good Lord passed out a conscience, must have gone for a beer and missed out. And these are a couple of other characters in our story: a little old man and a Model A car–but not just any old man and not just any Model A. There's something very special about the both of them. As a matter of fact, in just a few moments, they'll give Harvey Hunnicut something that he's never experienced before. Through the good offices of a little magic, they will unload on Mr. Hunnicut the absolute necessity to tell the truth. Exactly where they come from is conjecture, but as to where they're heading for, this we know, because all of them–and you–are on the threshold of the Twilight Zone.
Sarah had listened, not realizing how ironic it struck her in the moment. It almost embarrassed her, feeling like the narrator was speaking to her, or about her. In that state, she wasn't sure, but she felt like Chuck was looking at her, almost through her, making her face burn despite the relaxed atmosphere in the room. Crazily, she almost felt like it could be real, that she really was in the Twilight Zone, uncertain as to what was real and what wasn't.
Morgan put both hands on top of his head, then raised one hand in the air. "Isn't this one like pre-Christine-ish? The car makes him tell the truth or something?"
Chuck rubbed his hands together between his knees. "He can't do his job unless he lies, and the car won't let him lie. He tried to sell it to a politician, who also can't do his job unless he lies. Then he sells it to Nikita Kruschev and calls President Kennedy."
"You just spoiled it for Sarah, Chuck," Ellie exclaimed, sitting up slightly.
"I'm sorry," he said, a strange, almost sarcastic lilt to his voice. "I thought you'd probably seen it before." But he never turned to look at her.
"It sounds familiar, so maybe I did," she said, her voice small, wondering why the atmosphere was so uncomfortable, and wondering if somehow Ellie could tell something was wrong.
They watched in silence, Sarah trying to lose herself in the fictional show rather than feel so ill at ease, something she had almost never felt around Chuck. It was so disquieting, so upsetting, as yesterday she had so wanted to spend the day with him. Ellie seemed to be watching them out of the corner of her eye, probably sensing the tension, but saying nothing. She sipped gently on her hot chocolate.
An hour had passed, two more episodes about possessed dolls and heaven, her mind wandering in and out of focus. Another one started, and Sarah jumped as Ellie exclaimed, "Oh, this is one of my favorites. Romance and sci-fi together," she said, adjusting the volume again.
Cued in by Ellie's interest, Sarah paid closer attention. The story was about a man, sentenced to 50 years of solitary confinement on an asteroid. Desperate and dying of loneliness, the warden took pity on him and left him a robot that behaved like a woman. He fell in love with the robot– Alicia was her name. Sarah wasn't quite sure why, but she felt drawn in, hyper focused on the story. Sure, it was early 1960s black and white science fiction–never contemplating contemporary life. Pencils, paper, old appliances and old automobiles. But all science fiction was merely a way to comment on the human condition from a new perspective–something Chuck had explained and she finally understood. She sensed the ending, a tragedy turned on its head–his salvation now his doom. Loneliness was a matter of perspective. Alone in an entire world with someone he loved was not lonely. Mixed back into a world with billions of people, without someone he loved, and loneliness returned. Loneliness wasn't the absence of company–it was the absence of love.
Sarah felt her eyes burning, suddenly self-conscious, worried that she would start crying over an old television show in front of everyone. Not like her at all, but suddenly her emotions were raw and unmanageable. She ended up excusing herself to go to the bathroom, needing to collect herself in private. She saw the bracelet on her wrist as she raised her hand to her face. Something had changed, between last night and now, only she had no idea what, and Chuck seemed far from forthcoming. After several minutes, she collected herself, checking her eyes in the mirror for telltale signs of her misty eyes, and thought she looked satisfactory nonetheless.
When she emerged from the bathroom, they were sitting around opening gifts. She checked the clock, wondering how long she had actually been in the bathroom. "Come on, Sarah, there you are," Ellie called, waving her over to them.
Smiling, Sarah pulled the gifts from her bag out one by one. She had bought Ellie a pair of earrings, Devon a new mixer bottle for his protein shakes, and Morgan a new accessory pouch for his bicycle. Lastly, she handed Chuck his gift.
His smile was thin, but he opened it carefully in front of her. It was a bottle of cologne. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "How did you know this is the right one?" He kept the bottle in the bathroom, and though they pretended to date, she had never had a need to look inside his medicine cabinet.
Truthfully–Sarah had only closed her eyes, sniffing the bottles in the store, until she found the right one. There was no mistaking the scent of him, how it made her almost dizzy, coupled with the knowledge that he wore it subtly, and the full scent was only achieved when she was very close to him. "I have my methods," she said with a smile, and a wink, attempting to prolong the mood-lifting his smile caused in the moment. The smile he gave her was genuine, warm, despite the same haunted look in his eyes that she couldn't explain. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, lingering a few beats longer than was necessary.
"Dinner's ready, everyone!" Ellie called as she heard the oven beeping, breaking the spell.
December 21, 2012
Echo Park, Los Angeles, California
The oven timer doubled as the sound of the alarm clock as her dream faded back to reality. Her body jostled as he twisted to shut it off, then lay back down flatly and hugged her against him.
"Mauser," she mumbled.
"What, Sarah?" he asked, lifting up in surprise at what she'd said.
"Christmas Eve in the Buy More. Mauser was Fulcrum and he tried to take you. You saw me kill him in the Christmas Tree Lot," she said, remembering it all now after her dream.
"Yes, that's right," he said, happy that she was remembering, even if it was a bad memory.
"We were watching the Twilight Zone at your apartment and you were acting so strange and you never told me that you saw that. Not for a long time," she added.
"That was the first time I saw that. I knew you did that, you know, as part of your job, but it…well, it was a shock I guess. It was worse because you lied to me when I asked. I understood why you did, why you had to, but, at the time, it was really hard," he told her. "Did you dream about that?" he asked. She nodded against his chest.
Sighing, he rubbed her shoulder affectionately. Eventually he said, "Well, the world didn't end overnight, right? Are we good, do you think? Or is there a zombie apocalypse going on outside?"
She reached her arms up over her head, angling her hips against him as she languished in the stretch. "Well, maybe we should stay in bed for a while longer, just in case. Let the zombies eat everyone else first so they won't be hungry."
"Sounds like a plan," he said, kissing her lips softly.
THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS FUTURE
Echo Park, Los Angeles, California
December 25, 2012
Chuck was still eating his breakfast, somewhere in the back of his mind wondering where she was, noting her quick departure from the room. "What about breakfast, Sweetie?" he called, assuming she must be in the bathroom or the bedroom.
When she finally emerged from the hallway, she was smiling widely, almost giddy, though he wasn't quite sure why. "Good morning," he said, her glee infectious, a wide goofy grin on his face. She slid into the seat across from him at the table.
"Merry Christmas," she said breathlessly, sliding a small rectangular box across the table to him. It was wrapped in Christmas paper, a small white bow on the side. She pulled her hands back, folding them in her lap. Her eyes were glassy, but all of her teeth showed in the widest of her smiles she was capable of making.
"You want me to open this now?" he asked, in between bites of cereal.
She nodded vigorously.
He pulled the box closer, putting down his spoon into the bowl. He lifted the lid, and pulled back the tissue paper, gasping in shock and almost dropping the whole thing into his cereal. It was a home pregnancy test, clicked shut on the end. The screen embedded in the plastic had one word visible: Pregnant.
His mouth hung open in amazement, and he looked up at her. She was laughing, smiling, her eyes full of tears. "It wasn't your cooking," she struggled to say through her soaring emotions, pressing two fingers over her mouth.
"Sarah," he gushed, standing and reaching for her, pulling her into his arms. "Oh my God, Sarah," he almost choked, laughing and crying at the same time. He could feel her trembling in his arms, his own hands shaking at the same time. "Is that why you couldn't seem to keep your hands off me lately?" he joked.
"Who knows? You are irresistible. That's how I ended up like this in the first place," she laughed against his ear.
"There's something else in there," she said, pulling the box towards her. She used the tissue paper to wrap the test, moving it out of the way and off the table. "I did pee on that," she explained, with another laugh. In the bottom of the box was a plastic bag folded over. She reached in and pulled it out, opening the zipper on the bag and pulling out the folded piece of paper it was protecting. She unfolded it and handed it to him.
He saw the drawing he had made for her as they sat up side by side on the train in Japan. The cry escaped his lips, tears overflowing down his cheeks.
"I found that in your top dresser drawer, when I was looking for a mismatched sock, a few months ago. The second I saw it I remembered you drawing it, what you said, everything that we talked about. The family that we wanted. The one I want," she said, her voice shaking as her own tears overflowed.
"I was so scared that was gone, Sarah. That we'd lost that," he said in a broken voice.
She shook her head, the tears falling, unable to form any more words. "My brain forgot that, but not my heart, Chuck," she finally managed to say. "Next year it won't be just us," she whispered against his cheek.
He kissed her, then rested his forehead against hers. "Merry Christmas, Sweetie," he whispered.
"I love you, Chuck," she whispered in return.