holiday short story

12/10/202112/10/2021

Pink Champagne Christmas Story, Part 5

I make a beeline for Jasper’s Christie’s catalog as soon as the kids and I get home from the city. I got the idea to buy something for Jasper in the car as the twins were talking about what they wanted from Santa. I knew instantly that something from the Cox Collection auction was at the top of Jasper’s list. According to Jasper, it’s one of the most significant American collections ever appearing on the market. Masterpieces by Cézanne and Van Gogh will be on sale. This isn’t the area of my expertise, but I know what I need to do. I grab the catalog, tell my mother I have to run an errand and dash out the door before anyone can stop me.

I let myself wallow in the backseat of an Uber as I listen to Luther Vandross’s Every Year, Every Christmas song on the radio. Something in the lyrics makes me realize it takes two people to ruin a relationship. My eyes start painting pictures with the snow falling outside. I open my window to catch one before it hits the ground. If I can save just one, then maybe I can save my relationship as well.

When the cab abruptly stops, the weight is back, pressing on my chest. The scene at the restaurant keeps playing over and over again in my mind. I can’t seem to erase it. A few deep breaths later, I convince myself I’m doing the right thing. I don’t want a bigger family. The one I have is perfect. I figured that much out in the cab.

My urgency propels me through the Art Deco-style gleaming front doors of the Christie’s Auction House in Rockefeller Center in New York City. To say I’m a bit intimidated would be an understatement. This establishment sells roughly $7 billion worth of art, jewelry, and luxury goods a year. But, thankfully, the atmosphere I find is much more casual than I expected.

After dodging a few staff members’ prying questions about my husband and his whereabouts, I tell them that I am attending today’s auction in his place. Whether or not the staff buys my made-up story doesn’t matter. My husband’s black American Express card’s ridiculous high credit limit certainly makes up for any lingering doubts.

A senior sales consultant named Rudolfo takes me under his wing and points me in the direction of the auction floor. From the back of the room, I count about 40 bidders, although several more filtered in late. Most attendees wear jeans, sneakers, hoodies, and UGG boots and sit in the rows of chairs in the center of the room, but I take a seat against the back wall. Rudolfo doesn’t waste any time showing me how the auction works and what he thinks my husband is looking for. First, I circle a few items that I think he might like. Then, Rudolfo urges me to keep looking at more. The dollar signs in his eyes motivate him to stay close by my side.

On either side of the room are about 25 Christie’s staff members taking bids from clients in Singapore, Germany, and Florida over the phone. There’s tension in the air. It’s both nerve-wracking and exciting. I can see why my husband is so obsessed with collecting now. One man wearing a backward baseball cap bids $88,000 for a ruby and diamond jewels set that ends up selling to another bidder for $112,500. People raise their paddles so quickly and subtly that I often don’t even spot them.

TO BE CONTINUED …

Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 1

Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 2

Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 3

Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 4

12/09/202112/09/2021

Pink Champagne Christmas Story, Part 4

Although they always say the holidays are always full of surprises, nothing prepares me for what I see across the room after our waiter takes our order.

The sound of a man’s laugh is so familiar it catches my attention. I glance around, trying to locate the laughter as waiters glide by with trays filled with mouthwatering delectables. Then, a shock hits my heart and explodes. I can’t stop myself from staring. Across the room, the man laughing is my husband, Jasper. And he is not alone. His arm is casually draped around the back of a curvaceous woman. She turns and kisses him on the lips a mere twenty feet away from our family. As if on cue, a strolling photographer stops at their table to capture their embrace. I watch as they inch closer together and smile brightly for the camera. The flashbulb goes off, and the image uploads in my mind, possibly forever. A wave of nausea sweeps over me.

At first glance, the woman isn’t his type. For one thing, she wears her hair natural. Her clothes are loud and funky, not muted or sophisticated. Even her hot pink nails are too long and too bright a hue to appeal to Jasper’s taste. Or so I would think. Of course, this woman looks lovely to everyone else in the restaurant. But no one else has lived under the scrutiny of Jasper’s eye for the past decade except for me.

I wonder if she is Jasper’s new Eliza Doolittle? He made me over, maybe he’s thinking about doing the same with her?

My mother’s first impression of Jasper wasn’t kind. She raised me to be a strong independent woman. She could tell that Jasper’s strong will would one day undermine mine if I let him. Deep down, my mother didn’t want my life to be like hers. My father made the rules for the rest of the household to follow. She wanted my life to be different.

My mother’s warnings about Jasper angered me. I didn’t listen to her because she didn’t make sense to me. When Jasper and I first started dating, I was very opinionated and vocal about it. I didn’t waiver or step down when he challenged me. He said he had never met a woman like me before. Jasper told me more than once that he actually admired my strong will and opinions. But my pregnancy changed me. For whatever reason, I let my gestational diabetes make me feel like a failure as a woman, wife, and mother!

Looking across at this woman with my husband, I see why I am sitting here. All my insecurities that came from mismanaging my blood sugars undermined my overall confidence. It’s just dawning on me what I allowed to happen. I grab hold of the edge of the table in an attempt to settle myself. But I can’t stop myself from staring.

It’s easy to blame the lingering doubts about my gestational diabetes for what’s happening in front of me. However, Jasper’s laser beam focus on his career is also a factor. The same drive and determination that initially attracted me to him now make my blood run cold. Memories of my own father’s absence in my childhood are repeated. I don’t want my children to experience my childhood. Their father needs to be a presence in their life. He needs to be a loving source of encouragement, not just a breadwinner.

Maybe that’s why I hate his art collection. Every time Jasper buys a painting or collectible, the art is stunning but what it represents is so ugly. Every masterpiece on the walls of our home represents more time spent with clients and less time spent with his family. It breaks off another piece of my heart. The twins are growing by leaps and bounds. I hate what his art collection represents so much that I push him away. So why did it take until this moment for me to realize this?

The crushing realization that my marriage may be over hits me. What have I done? I love my life. Why did it take this woman kissing my husband to see it?

My son, Darren, slams his spoon down and declares the hot chocolate the best in the world. The sound snaps me back to reality. I look at my two children dressed in their Sunday best and burst out laughing. It takes me a good thirty seconds before I can stop myself. Thankfully the restaurant is too busy with waiters and customers for anyone to notice. The twins look at me and smile. I quickly grab some whipped cream off my son’s hot cocoa and dab it on my nose. Suddenly being refined, elegant, and soft-spoken are the last things I want to be. Both kids are laughing. It feels good.

Looking at their two sweet faces with whipped cream mustaches, I see what’s at stake. Suddenly I know what I have to do. And I have until precisely 8 PM to do it. I quickly ask for our check and scramble to get the kids home. The kids don’t notice their father, and Jasper didn’t see us either, which means I still have a chance.

TO BE CONTINUED …

Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 1

Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 2

Click HERE for Pink Champagne Christmas Story Part 3

12/08/202112/08/2021

Pink Champagne Christmas Story, Part 3

If my plans make me sound like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, I can’t help it. A lot is riding on our Christmas’ date night’ to get my Christmas wish. Because the only gift from Jasper I want for Christmas is a bigger family.

Jasper’s constant complaints about the costs of having too many mouths to feed can’t dissuade me either. But, to be honest, the price of a bigger family isn’t the only thing he’s worried about. He’s also concerned about my health. I had gestational diabetes during my pregnancy with the twins. I can’t lie – It was brutal. There were times during my pregnancies when it was challenging to manage for me. My insulin resistance worsened around 32 – 36 weeks when I thought I had everything under control. I was literally waking and eating the same breakfast every day for weeks when suddenly I experienced crazy blood sugar levels. I kept thinking, “What the heck is going on, and what did you do wrong???” I was so frustrated, upset, and, yes, very emotional. I felt helpless.

During my lowest points, Jasper was my rock. First, he dealt with the brunt of my anger and frustration with so much compassion. Then he even paid out of pocket for a therapist, who wasn’t covered by insurance, to help me process what I was feeling. To say I felt like a failure is an understatement. Every high reading on my blood glucose monitor chipped away at my confidence until I was a bundle of nerves. I didn’t trust myself or my body. Thankfully, Jasper found a specialist who helped me when I hit my lowest point. After that, it was a huge relief to learn that my progesterone hormone levels caused by insulin resistance crank up to another gear instead of negligence. Little by little, day after day, I got my blood sugar levels back on track with insulin therapy. Looking back, my initial hesitations to inject myself with insulin seem ridiculous. My insulin dosage even lowered after the release of my hormones slowed down, and my insulin resistance improved. And all that self-monitoring paid off, too, because today, we have two healthy, beautiful children. I can’t imagine my life without them. This is why I am so determined to have more children. Jasper feels the opposite; he isn’t budging either. If I make a sigh when we see a baby on TV, he recites the opinions of every specialist who has advised me against it. I’m more than likely to have gestational diabetes again, according to statistics. But these specialists don’t understand that I am not a statistic either. I have a better understanding of what’s involved and know my risks this time. I know I can do it.

However, tonight seems like it’s months, not hours away. Nothing has gone according to my plans since we left the house this morning. I’m sure Tom Cruise could rectify the situation quickly without breaking a sweat. Then again, he’s not wearing three-inch heels or wading through the crowded streets of New York City holding hands with two five-year-old children anxious to see Santa Claus. The traffic was bumper to bumper coming into the city. Every store has been jam-packed with people. After waiting for over two hours for Santa Claus, the kids are tired and hungry. My feet are killing me too. All three of us are cranky but teetering towards Grizzly bears grouchy the longer we go without food. I’m in such a rush to feed them and get home that I drag them through the doors of the Windows of the World, New York’s sky-high restaurant. The restaurant’s close proximity to the parking garage was the deciding factor. Usually, I wouldn’t dare take the twins to such an expensive and stuffy restaurant, but their growling stomachs can’t wait. Our twenty-floor glass elevator ride to the top floor is an unexpected thrill for the kids. Thousands of lights twinkle at us when the elevator doors open to a cozy holiday atmosphere where every corner seems decorated in gorgeous evergreen garlands, ribbons, and pinecones. And surrounding windows provide a jaw-dropping three-sixty view of Manhattan. We sit down and order what I can only assume is the city’s most expensive hot chocolates with extra whipped cream and two grilled cheese sandwiches. I’m trying to hold off on food until I go out with Jasper later tonight.

Click HERE to read Pink Champagne Christmas Story PART 1

Click HERE to read Pink Champagne Christmas Story PART 2

On 22 April 1974, this performance by Love Unlimited (also known for singing backing vocals for Barry White) was broadcast by AVRO television as part of TopPop, the Dutch version of Top of the Pops. Glodean James, the singer in the middle, was married to Barry White at that time.