Unholy Nights: A Twisted Christmas Anthology (47 page)

"Hey." He pulled my chin up with his hand  to meet his eyes. "I said I was sorry and I meant it. I know it's rough on you, but my working all the time is what supports this family. I'm doing my best here, Sera."

Instead of focusing on his face, I studied the swirl  of tattoos on the curve of his neck that disappeared into the material of his shirt. Yet another of the reasons why my parents hated him. Tattoos where I come from where a sure indicator of low class. They viewed our relationship as a tragic mix of desire and rebellion on my part and I was loathe to prove them right.

I was beginning to wonder if our relationship was based on fleeting attraction and my hope that love was more than an obligation. Unfortunately, that's exactly what our marriage was turning out to be and I felt powerless as to how to make it stop.

I hazarded a glance at him. He was scowling with his arms crossed as he leaned back into the hard plastic booth of the food court. His eyes were focused on the shopping bag that was peeking out of my designer handbag. My heart sank.

"Spencer, I—"

"Save it," he interrupted with a hard look. "Were you really going to hide that from me? Is that how low we've sunk? Are you trying to prove your parents right about us or do you just not give a shit?"

I pulled at the suddenly tight collar. Was it hot in here? "It's not that big of a deal, Spencer. It's just a shirt."

"Not that big of a—" He shoved a hand through his hair and jumped to his feet. "You know what, if you truly believe that, then I really don't know why I'm wasting my time trying to convince you otherwise. I'm going to the toy store to pick up a few presents for Micah. Come find me when you're done."

*

S
pencer

It blew my fuckin' mind how much Sera could drive me nuts. It's one of the qualities that I loved about her, initially, but marriage to her has tested my patience. I knew going into a relationship with her that our lifestyles were different. She came from old money and I came from a double-wide. I was determined not to let that affect our relationship, though, and I pursued her relentlessly for weeks. First to get her to go on a date with me, then to be my girlfriend. And finally to marry me.

Watching her walk down the aisle was the happiest moment of my life.

How is it possible that love sours when a relationship hits a rough patch? Wasn't it enough to sustain them, or was there a missing piece to our relationship that kept happiness out of arms reach?

My mind raced as I wandered through the toy store absently picking up gifts for Micah. As if I didn't already have enough on my plate trying to support my family, my own wife seemed to be determined to sabotage what little foothold I'd managed to gain. Not only that but it was fuckin' embarrassing to even have to limit her spending. She's a grown ass woman, but we don't have the means for her to spend as much money as she does.

Every time I see her sneaking a bag in the house it's like a slap in the face that I can't provide for her. As a man who came from limited means it was important for me to never allow my family to live the way that I lived. Each purchase she makes that pushes us farther and farther in the red feels like I'm taking steps back to that time in my life.

I paused by a toy train set and my heart twisted in my chest. A man should be able to get his son a train set for Christmas. And she wonders why I work so much. Why I'm always busting my ass for Terry to get that promotion. Toy train sets and silk shirts, that's why.

For them, everything I've done is for them.

I turned away from the display and left the store without making a single purchase. The crowd carried me away and I followed mindlessly. I had half a mind to go back to the food court and demand that Sera hand over her credit cards like the overbearing male figure she was used to.

Instead, I continued to wander, not really paying attention to where I was going. Hordes of people pressed against my sides, tossing me through the crowd until I was released from the fold at the opening of a store.

The familiar scent of dust and musk enveloped me and for a while I lost myself in the past instead of my own problems.

Two

I slumped in my seat, defeated, as he strode away from me. More often than not these days our conversations ended this way. Me unsatisfied and him frustrated with my inability to conform to the perfect wife. 

Feeling suddenly sick to my stomach, I threw the unfinished cappuccino in the trash and headed in the opposite direction. There was a men's boutique having a sale and I'd been planning all week to find Spencer the perfect Christmas present. 

By the time I arrived there what was left of my Christmas spirit had all but disappeared. In my haste to spend my worries away, I'd forgotten that I was on a limited budget. Shopping was normally a big rush for me, but the fact that I couldn't afford get Spencer something spectacular also weighed on my heart. Especially because it was due to my own selfishness.

Maybe my parents were right about people like me. Spencer deserved so much better than that. Workaholic or no.

The dull chatter of the other customers was drowned out by the din of the loud rock music being played over the loudspeaker. I weaved through the aisles looking at everything and seeing nothing.

After I spent a while browsing through their selection, I came to the conclusion that Spencer really wasn't going to be dazzled by anything in the store. He didn't like receiving gifts and would never tell me what he wanted. Normally, I could afford to get him something from his favorite antique shop the next town over, which was basically my go-to for everything Spencer related, but obviously this year that was a no go. He was always ruining his clothes from the grease at the shop where he was a mechanic, so a super discounted, slightly plain blue polo would have to do.

There was no way I was going to brave another store just to find something else as underwhelming as this was certain to be. In the twenty minutes I'd been browsing, I'd been knocked into no less than three other displays by shoppers whose Christmas guerilla warfare tactics were far superior to my own.

What was it about Christmas that turned everyone into complete jerks? Myself included, it seemed.

The line to the checkout stretched thirty people long. I sighed and pulled out my phone only to ignore the waiting text from Spencer and his bullshit apologies. Truthfully, I was tired of fighting with him and in the mood I was in, that's where our conversation would wind up. Again.

I put the phone away, dutifully ignoring my disappointment at the fact that there were no emails responding to my recent wave of job inquiries.

Slowly the line inched towards the cash register. The entire time I was jostled from all sides by customers passing by, pushed by the other people in line, and becoming increasingly pissed off at the rising temperature and my own sense of failure.

"Happy Holidays," said the cheerful sales associate. "Will this be all for you, today?"

"Yes," I gritted my teeth.

The associate's eyes flicked back at her tone and her perky smile faltered a few notches.

I ignored that and began to tap my nails on the surface of the counter. Spencer would no doubt be annoyed with how long this was taking even if the gift was for him. 

"Your total is $44.58, ma'am. Cash, check or card today?" asked the associate with another hopeful smile.

If possible, my frown grew even deeper. "Excuse me?"

"That'll be $44.58. How would you like to pay?"

"The shirt was on sale," I argued, gesturing towards the rack. "There's no way it's over forty dollars when it was on sale for $26.99."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, let me see what I can do to help," She directed her attention to her register, presumably rechecking the price tags and computer records.

I waited with growing anxiety. There was nothing like standing at a register while having money issues with people behind you, more than likely feeling sorry for you. It was degrading and always served to make me feel like dirt. Lower than dirt. How I wished in that moment that we could pull ourselves from the hole we'd landed in. Life would be so much easier. I was sorely tempted to phone my father. Daddy's credit cards were always a cure all.

The stares boring holes into my back caused sweat to break out between my shoulders and under my arms. I swished my coat to stir up the stagnant air, but that only served to mix the odor of too many warm bodies and dirt.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. This wasn't one of our items on sale. However, I can direct you to the correct one if you like."

"What's the hold up?" came a deep yell from the back.

"Yeah, c'mon," added a feminine voice. "We've got places to go. Get a move on!"

I sucked in a defeated breath. "Please just wait right here for a minute and let me go get the right shirt. Go ahead and ring up the right one, if you can."

The sales associate nodded, her eyes full of pity which only served to ratchet my annoyance to red-hot levels.

Ignoring the heated looks of the other customers, I power walked back to the display of discounted polos and noticed that I'd grabbed from the wrong side of the table.
Humiliating
. The shirts on sale were even worse quality that the first, but by now I was tired, hot, hungry, and had had it with Christmas. I grabbed the closest shirt, a canary yellow that was going to look horrible with Spencer's complexion, but what could I do? It was better than the alternative. Which was nothing.

The customers were glaring daggers at me, but I ignored them as best I could and handed the shirt to the cashier. As she rang it up and bagged it, I retrieved my debit card and slid it through the reader when prompted. A discordant bleep sounded from the register and my stomach dropped.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but do you have another card? This one was rejected."

"Just pay for you shit and let's go!" another man shouted. Great. Now they were breaking out the big guns.

I burned with mortification, so consumed with it and a mixture of anger and hurt that I tore from the store without answering the cashier's question. How could that card be rejected? I'd checked the balance that morning and there was enough for a meager gift for Spencer. This is why he lectured nonstop about managing my finances. At least he hadn't been there to witness it.

My feet brought me on autopilot through the mall until I found a bench near one of the fountains. After plopping down on it, I brought up the bank app on my phone. I was stunned to find a transaction automatically reloading my Starbucks card that debited the only money I had to my name and leaving me with nothing to left to buy my husband a present for Christmas. Had I not bought the shirt, I could have gotten him something.

How could I have let this happen?

Thank God Spencer insisted that we have separate accounts. I couldn't bear to hear his smug "I told you so's" or see the twisted look of disappointment color his face. Though watching him waking up to no gifts under the tree would be monumentally worse.

I was at a complete loss as to what to do. Selling something to pay for his gift would take way too much time. The fact that I would stoop so low made me sick to my stomach. Asking my parents was definitely out of the question as they would delight in my 'squalor' and would no doubt rub it in Spencer's face. I could ask one of my friends but that was almost as bad as admitting defeat. They were all well off for the most part and admitting the woes of my financial situation would be fodder for the country club gossip mills.

The foot traffic slowed to a non-deadly rate and Spencer sent three more texts asking where I was. I got back to my feet and headed to the electronic store where Spencer was bound to end up.

I would rather face ten angry redneck housewives fighting for discount towels at Wal-Mart during a Black Friday sale than tell Spencer he was going to be shit out of luck on Christmas. 

I was almost there when a holiday sale sign in the window of a new store caught my eye. I was surprised that Spencer hadn't found it already and drug me in to check out the priceless antiques that were displayed in the window. Timeless, as it was called, was decked out in expensive fabrics, there was a luxurious scent wafting through the air, and calming, seductive music play on the speakers. It felt sinful, decadent, and
expensive
. Spencer would absolutely orgasm the moment he walked through the door. His skill was working with machines, but his love was collecting antiques.

My weakness overwhelmed us with clothes and household goodies, most at bargain prices, whereas his were eclectic old pieces that cost a mint. He liked to blame all of our financial woes on me, but he damn sure had a hand in it, too.

The atmosphere was entrancing and I found myself taking the time to look at each piece, noting the detail in the carvings or the subtly in color. I never understood Spencer's fascination with old pieces. I preferred cleaner, newer lines. But something about the items in this store called to me.

I browsed from the larger grouping of furniture at the front to the tables and shelves in the back that housed knick-knacks and elegant, ornate pieces of jewelry. I was turning over a lovely scarlet brooch in my hands when a voice sounded behind my ear and I jumped in alarm.

"Pretty things for a very pretty lady, yes?"

My heart lurched to my throat, I dropped the brooch with a clatter on the counter and I whirled around to find an older gentleman standing behind me. 

"Oh!" I said. "I'm sorry, you scared me."

His salt and pepper beard twitched with a smile. "I'm sorry, girl. You like the pretty baubles? My wife, Petra, has a fondness for them."

"Yes, sir, everything you have here is wonderful. My husband would love this place. I've never noticed it before though, have you been here long?"

"Most days it feels like forever," he replied. "Some days it's almost like we've just started."

I made a nondescript sound and glanced back at the table to avoid looking at him in the eye. Small talk was never my strong suit. That was when I saw the perfect gift for Spencer.