Page 5 of The Christmas Express

Ember

Something strange is happening. I don’t think I’m imagining it.

And I’m not talking about the lopsided and half-dead Christmas tree Tonia is trying to erect in front of my living room window in my tiny shepherd’s hut of a home.

I don’t remember asking her to bring me a Christmas tree, but I have been a bit distracted these past two weeks.

The light in the room diminishes further and I glance up from my phone. ‘T, I need to be able to see out of the window still. It’s my only big source of natural light in here.’

She shoves the tree to the left a little, and it falls over. For the third time. This time it takes my surfboard with it.

‘Do you want to help me?’

‘Do you want me to help you?’ Thirty minutes ago, I tried to help and she yelled at me to sit down or bugger off.

‘No.’ She lifts the tree again and staggers it to the other side of the room, blocking the television instead.

I’m back on Bryn’s social media – I know, I know, but I haven’t deleted the apps again yet. To begin with, I just wanted to find out a little more about her wedding, and she’s been posting pretty consistently. But I’ve noticed something...

Tonia steps back, pulling pine needles out of her penguin jumper. ‘What are you thinking? Your forehead is all frowny and wrinkled-up.’

‘Thanks.’

‘What’s she posted now?’

I’m so transparent. I put the phone down and sigh. ‘It’s just... it’s the details, about her wedding, they’re very familiar.’

‘In what way? It’s themed? Something you’ve seen in a movie?’

‘No, closer to home.’ I squirm on the sofa.

But she sits down next to me and stares at me in that teacher-way of hers until I confess.

‘Look,’ I say, holding my phone out to show her Bryn’s recent posts. ‘So, she lives in Canada, now, and she’s planning to get married in Canada.’

‘Makes sense. Is her fiancée Canadian?’

I shrug. I’ve not paid that much attention to her fiancée, if I’m honest. ‘I guess so. But the thing is, when Bryn and I were together, we used to plan our wedding.’

‘Were you engaged?’ She raises her brows at me.

I can’t look Tonia in the eye, and a heat spreads over my cheeks. ‘No,’ I say, my voice quiet. ‘It was just something we used to do. I suppose, at the time, we thought it would happen one day. Anyway, in this pretend wedding, we were getting married in Canada.’

‘Ah, buddy.’ Tonia pats me on the head. ‘Why Canada?’

‘It just looked beautiful. She always wanted to live in Vancouver and I liked the sound of the national parks. But that’s not all.

’ I open a post of hers showing a rack of red wine-coloured floor-length gowns.

‘These are her bridesmaid dresses. But she and I used to say we wanted this as our colour scheme. And I always said I liked these sweetheart necklines.’

Tonia frowns at the picture, then at me. ‘Okay... where are you going with this?’

‘Wait, there’s more. Look.’ I open another photo, of her in a rocking chair in front of a big, rustic cabin on the edge of a lake.

‘This is her venue. We said we wanted to get married by a lake, specifically in a place with rocking chairs on the porch. We even joked about going back when we got old and renewing our vows in the same place, and how rocking chairs would make a great photo recreation.’

‘So, you think she’s just lifted the ideas you had together? That’s a little lazy. I wonder if the fiancée knows.’

I stare at the wonky Christmas tree for a while.

There are other things too, little things, songs she adds to her stories with lyrics about lost loves, a caption that’s from my favourite old Hollywood movie.

‘The very fact she’s posting all these details.

.. it’s unlike her, she’s usually more private with this stuff.

But I just wonder if, well, she’ll know that I’ve seen her stories. You can see who views them.’

‘You think she’s posting these things for you? What, to rub it in?’

I shake my head. ‘No, she’s not like that. I feel like it’s more, trying to get my attention?’

‘Why?’ Tonia chuckles then tries a gentler, ‘Why do you think she’d be doing that?’

‘Maybe she still has feelings for me?’ Ugh, I sound so big-headed. But what if I’m right?

‘Mmm, that’s a jump...’

‘But what if it’s not? What if it’s, I don’t know, a way of her trying to reach out, tell me she still thinks about me? She knows I only check my socials around my birthday now, so she’s known I’ll see the things she’s posting.’

Tonia straightens the tree for the fourth time. It’s only early December, so I have nearly a whole month of this thing toppling down on me. ‘So, what is this?’ she asks through the branches slapping her in the face. ‘Are we sliding into her DMs this afternoon? Asking her what’s going on?’

‘No, no...’ I shake my head. ‘It’s nothing. It’s silly and I’m just feeling lonesome, probably.’ I put my phone away and set to work untangling a string of Christmas lights that Tonia brought over, dangling from her tote bag. And I forget all about Bryn, and her wedding.

As if that happens.

I shield my eyes, the December sun bright and low and glinting off the water. I’m waist deep, my wetsuit slick, my hair matted with salt, as it always is, in a straggled braid down my back.

‘That’s it, that’s it, paddle, paddle, paddle,’ I call out as my two surf newbies use every muscle in their bodies to try and catch this next wave.

She catches it, her boyfriend doesn’t, but both tumble into the foamy crest on the shoreline with happy chuckles that reach my ears all the way back here.

I trail my fingers through the cold ocean as they leap their way back over the breaking waves towards me, ready to jump back on and try again. ‘That was awesome, you’ve nearly got it now.’

‘It’s so much fun,’ the boyfriend chuckles, his rash vest riding up and making a crop top over his wetsuit.

‘I can’t believe we have to go back home tomorrow,’ the girlfriend says with a sigh, wiping salty snot from under her nose. ‘You must be so happy to live here.’

I’m about to agree with them when the perfect wave swells towards us, not too big, not too small, just nice and chill. In several ways.

The couple take off again, both managing to stand, arms flailing a little, eyes focused on the beach, cores engaged and knees bent. This time, they make it all the way in and hop off their surfboards in unison, double-high-fiving and embracing each other in a tangle of salt and sopping neoprene.

I am lucky to live here. But... did I give up on The One just to make this happen?

One thing about Bryn is that she always encouraged me to follow my gut, even when it ultimately took me away from her.

My parents were the same, they just wanted me to be true to my heart.

But now they’re all gone from my life, it’s like my heart doesn’t know what’s true any more.

I mean, I think I’m happy. I think I’m okay. But am I, deep down? I don’t know.

‘I’m going to Canada.’

‘Absolutely not.’

I’m facing off against Tonia and my other friends, who have barricaded themselves in my home while I’m trying to pack.

‘Yes, I am,’ I tell her.

‘Nope. This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.’

Over by my Christmas tree, which is now practically bare because in the space of three weeks it’s dropped all but about three needles, Kim pipes up. ‘You should definitely, definitely just phone her if you need to know how she feels.’

I put an extra sweatshirt in my backpack with a huff. ‘I need to see her. She needs to see me. This isn’t something you do over the phone.’

‘Yes, it is! This isn’t one of your old movies; you don’t fly across the globe to try and see your ex before they get married. It’s not giving romance, it’s giving creepy as hell.’

‘Plus, nobody likes surprise visitors,’ adds Kim.

I wave my hands around at them: my surprise visitors.

‘This is just the birthday blues talking,’ says Tonia, trying to remove things from my case without me noticing.

I snatch back my washbag. ‘No, it isn’t. It’s my gut.’

‘It’s your gut that took you away from Bryn in the first place, babe. You wanted different things. And that’s okay. She’s happy now, and so are you.’

I shake my head. She didn’t know me when I was with Bryn, and we were so good together.

I’ve not been able to replace her, I’ve not even wanted to, or maybe I’ve not even tried.

And this is romantic. All of December, Bryn’s been sending me signs that she’s been thinking about us, and our relationship.

I can’t spend my life wondering, what if?

Because, what if she’s the one, my person, my love and I just ignored it? I can’t do that.

‘Look, I’m going to go now so that I arrive a few days before the wedding. Then I’ll see her, if it goes well have Christmas together, if it doesn’t, I’ll find somewhere cosy and snowy to spend Christmas on my own.’

‘I don’t want you to be on your own,’ says Tonia.

‘I’m always on my own at Christmas,’ I remind her.

She holds my gaze for a second, softening. ‘That’s not true. You might not be spending Christmas with your mum and dad any more, or a girlfriend, but we’re your home at Christmas nowadays.’

She’s right, in a way, they all are. I’m lucky to have them.

After Bryn and I split up, I wandered around London feeling totally isolated for a few weeks, her friends – who I thought had become my friends too – having cut all ties with me.

Eventually I gave up and got on with my life, with the whole reason she and I broke up in the first place, because I wanted to get out of the city and move closer to the ocean.

A few months later, both of my parents passed away within weeks of each other, and I didn’t hear from any of them, except for condolences from Bryn after I let her know (she’d known them well, after all).

But this group has enveloped me ever since. I know that anytime I’m having a hard day, they’ll be there. If I’ve had a good day, I want to tell them about it.

Tonia continues, her voice calm, like you’d speak to a puppy you didn’t want going berserk at an incoming parcel deliverer. ‘How are you going to feel if she tells you to leave?’

I swallow. ‘Maybe it’ll let me move on, forget about her.’

‘This marriage stuff has just thrown you, that’s all; I think you have moved on.’

‘I know you do.’ I wrap my arms around Tonia’s neck and hold her close for a moment. ‘But...’

‘But I’m not you?’ she finishes.

‘I’ve got to try for that Hollywood ending.’ I smile, and buckle my bag closed.