"You better watch out, you better not cry, better not pout, I'm telling you why: Santa Claus is coming to toooown!" One of the red-coated, drunk Christmas carolers blared into my ear.
They had entered the T at South Station and for the past ten minutes, they had been cheering everyone up by switching from one famous Christmas melody to another.
I silent-hoped that they will be singing "I'm dreaming of a White Christmas" or "Silent Night," next. Those had been my two favorite ones. I used to sing them often with my Dad before he had passed away.
The music vibes were super contagious, and could not help but replace my will-I-finally-friggin'-see-Mr-Ruffles-today worried pout with a grin.
"That's it, babe! Santa is a-comin', gurl!" The she-caroler winked her fake eyelashes at me.
I wiggled my tushy a bit listlessly in the Red Line train seat.
Christmas spirit was usually so infectious to me.
That was not the case with Rena, who would always say Santa was only there to help spread peace, joy, happiness, and other marketing buzzwords.
I would normally join in the singing and dancing fun but...
Ever since leaving Jayden, I had been mentally giving condolences to Santa for having to fully review the list of the naughty things I did this year.
Maybe I did deserve nothing but coal lumps from our most beloved inter-dimensional overlord for having hurt my ex.
Not that I wanted to spend another Christmas Eve in the stuffy, overtly large Jayden's family dining room, oh, no, no, no.
A Doctor Who theme playing from my pocket made me pick up my phone.
"Hi Ma!" I unleashed my best I-am-a-happy-and-fulfilled-adult-person voice upon recognizing the caller id.
"Iris? Iris, honey? Where are you? I can't hear you very well!" She was yelling into the receiver as if her dear life depended on it.
I let out a sigh.
"It's half past nine, Ma. You know very well where I am! I'm on the train. Heading to work."
"Well, what's that racket in the background, then?" She screeched.
"Oh, those? They are just your standard edition Christmas carolers, bringing joy and happiness wherever they may show up. But you didn't call me to listen to carols, did you? What can I do for you?"
"Nothing special, honey. I just wanted to see how you are. And, of course, to remind you of our Christmas dinner arrangement. You know it's in five days, Iris, and... We'll be opening presents together."
"I remember, Ma." I balanced the cell phone between my left ear and my shoulder as I kept on drawing. "By the way, I already got your present. I hope you'll like it!" I added with a mischievous giggle.
She had told me she needed a new hat after her old one had made off with the wind. So that's what she'd get. I bought a white one, with a chin strap. Well, to be more precise, it had been white, but I had applied liberal amounts of textile dye to it to make it shine in all colors of the rainbow.
"Good, honey. I've got yours, too. Oh, and Iris? Please make sure you're on time. You and your dad, God bless his soul, you two were always late for dinners. The soup would get cold andâ"
"Alright." I nodded as if I had her before me, hoping this interjection would interrupt her train of thoughts.
"Is everything okay at work?" She inquired.
"Fine."
"Is Rena doing well?"
"Yep."
"And are you getting used to your new place?" My Mom had asked me if I wanted to move back home after the separation, like, bazillion times. But I had said no.
"Yes."
"And, honey, did you hear anything from that boy, Jayden, lately?"
Oh, here we go again.
"Nope." I tried to be as curt as possible so as to deflect further conversation on this topic.
"You know, Iris, I've always liked him. You could give him a call, see how he's doing."
"No, Ma. We... We talked about this." I raised my hand in vain, trying to stop the incoming flood of words.
"You're not getting any younger." A familiar warning tone message reared its ugly head.
"I know, Ma." I squeezed my eyes shut as if that would also shut out her prying questions and high expectations.
I braced myself for yet another one of those "you'd better go back to that boy, didyahearme" brain-pecking sermons.
But only a sigh reached me from the other end of the line.
"Take care of yourself, Iris." She added, the tender note in her voice almost making me tear up.
"I will."
"And don't forget, Christmas dinner is at eight!"
"Okay. Bye." My monosyllabic minimalistic approach mimicked the one generations had been using to talk to their mothers.
I was kinda looking forward to spending Christmas Eve with my Ma. But strangely enough, I wasn't even curious about the present she'd prepared for me. All I wanted for Christmas was him.
Mr. Ruffles Bunny. No matter how cheesy or Mariah Carey-ish that sounded.
I grinned at a sheet of paper where dandelion heads stylistically framed my phone number. Â I was so ready to show it to him.
I mean, I could have also doodled the number on the tablet or phone screen, but...
In do-or-die situations like this one, there was no way in hell I'd rely on my electronic gadgets!
Screw that! What if the battery died, or the screen wouldn't unlock? One could never be too sure.
Right now, what I wanted was to connect with him.
As the train doors opened at Park Street, stirring me from my thoughts, a gust of wind whooshed through the compartment.
It liberated one of the many flyers adorning the vehicle's walls.
True to its name, the thing took flight and slapped me right across the face, vying for my attention.
Ouch! Rude!
I peeled it off my nose.
These pesky paper thingies had driven me crazy throughout entire December, mocking me from all nooks and crannies of the train. They kinda looked like Have-You-Seen-This-Wizard warrants.
"Oh, fine. Fine! I know! Don't you think I haven't read you a gazillion times before!?" I muttered grumpily as I removed the facial invader and peered once again across the greasy dark letters.
Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority (MBTA) chief executive Luis Ramirez, if I were to trust the signature (he honestly looked a little bit like Gary Oldman), glowered at me from a photograph.
The man held a square whiteboard in his hands.
"Station Issue (Ongoing):
January 1âDecember 31:
FORTHCOMING RED LINE RE-ROUTING
In the following year, we will be working on a track system to improve the reliability of the Red Line.
Affected stops: Alewife, Davis, Porter, Harvard, Charles/MGH..."
Blah-blah-blah, bold print giveth and the fine print taketh away, Amen.
There were some more yada-yada fine print words at the bottom of the pamphlet.
I imagined they read as: "Approach with extreme caution. Don't attempt to use magic against this man! Any information leading to his arrest shall be duly rewarded. Notify the Ministry of Magic by owl immediately."
Nothing better than my Harry Potter obsession that has only grown with age to cure me from moroseness.
"Next stop: Charles/MGH." The level voice made my heart pole-vault across my ribcage, threatening to make a permanent lodging in my throat.
Any moment now, his curly hair, cute square-rimmed glasses and blushy face would emerge on the other side of the glass.
He would call me once he saw the number.
I was sure of it.
And then, we would meet.
What would it be like?
Please be as weird as me, please be as weird as me, please be as weird as me!
I mentally steepled my fingers, already imagining us in a deep conversation.
Okay, Iris. Time to give it a shot. I narrowed my eyes and made a finger gun sign towards the slowly halting train on the parallel tracks. Then I pulled out the sheet of paper with the dandelion-heads framed number.
But the face that peered at me from across the track was not his.
Where was he?
Salty tears pooled in the corners of my eyes as the chant of the carolers' "I'm dreaming of a white... Christmas" was slowly dying down with them stepping off the train.
I might never see Mr. Ruffles again.
He was now the lead elf in my Fairy Tail illustrations and that would never change.
No matter how many new train subjects and how many new illustrations might come my way, one of them, that special one, just remained with you forever.
Even if many more query rejections for my illustrations were added to the pile.
Even if the Four Big Publishing Houses remained mute forever, as they had so far.
My Super Mario phone chime startled me from my thoughts, and I glanced down at the screen.
Jayden?
Boy oh boy, Ma would be so happy to see this.
He hadn't texted me in months, and I was kind of relieved about it.
Hey
The text said, innocuously enough.
Three little dots indicated Jayden was still typing, and an itsy bitsy spider of uncomfortable dread weaved its web of curiosity down my spine.
Guess what? :)
Dad was mentioning Marvel needed new illustrators the other day.
I thought... The hell, why not?
And passed him your curriculum!
Dad sent it to them and...
He says they seem really interested in hiring you!
It's a real deal this time, Iris.
I swear on it.
New Year, new me.