Luke's Crazy California Christmas Read online

  “Love you, Mom.”

  “Love you too. Have a good Christmas.”

  I hopped out and grabbed my bags from the trunk. I waved goodbye and headed inside to check my luggage. A biting wind shot through the entryway to the terminal just as I started to enter the automatic doors.

  I did hate leaving Mom for Christmas. I knew she’d be OK with my aunt and uncle and cousins, but it wouldn’t be the same. This was supposed to be our first North Carolina Christmas. Instead, it had turned out to be her first Christmas alone. The first Christmas since my older sister, Monica, passed away after being in a coma from a car accident. The first Christmas since she and Dad divorced. I couldn’t believe what a jerk Dad was being, forcing me to come back to California and leave Mom. No, that wasn’t true. Dad was being true to form.

  After checking in and making it through airline security, I took a seat near my gate. Christmas music circulated around the terminal as if we should be ready to break out into caroling groups. I’ve heard they do that to keep travelers calm during the stressful holiday traveling season. So far, it had done nothing to stave off my anxiety. Usually, I loved this time of year and got into the whole holiday-spirit thing, but for some reason it grated on my nerves today.

  “Fa-la-la-la-la…” Talk about carolers. I nearly rubbed at my eyes to make sure the cones and rods were still working. Carolers dressed in full Victorian garb strolled down the concourse together. Yeah, the airport sure wanted to keep everyone in a holiday spirit. Downstairs, they even had a Santa, live music, and volunteers of the USO handing out cookies as part of some Christmas fundraiser.

  I pulled out Andrea’s package from my bag. It had been wrapped in plain brown paper. Nothing Christmassy about it. So I was thinking it wasn’t a Christmas present.

  My cellphone buzzed with a text message. Yo, have fun in the sun. Ride the waves for me. It was Dion, one of my new friends from Aubrey Christian Academy.

  I’ll be thinking of you in that 78-degree sunshine, I texted back.

  Too cruel, man. Later.

  Later was right. I wondered if I should message Andrea before boarding the plane when I’d be forced to turn off my phone. I decided against it. What would I say that hadn’t already been said?

  I’ll miss you.

  Wish you could come.

  Don’t forget me.

  Strike the last one. That just sounded pathetic. What was wrong with me? Why had I all of a sudden become so insecure? It must have to do with going back. Back to California. Back with Dad. It was doing a number on my head.

  The plane started loading after a few minutes. I took my window seat in row eleven, thankful I wasn’t on the aisle. It was an overbooked flight full of screaming babies on their way to see grandma, no doubt.

  I’d kept Andrea’s gift out. I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Sticking it back into my backpack didn’t seem right, but I didn’t exactly want to open it either. I don’t know why. I liked Andrea…a lot. Other than Mom, there wasn’t another person alive who meant more to me, but undeniable anger had crept up inside my chest. Why was I so mad? It was stupid. She was right. Her parents would never have allowed it anyway. Why couldn’t I get over this?

  Maybe because she’d made it too easy for me. Did I actually want her to be upset? Again, I had to wonder what was wrong with me.

  I stared out the window. Frost covered a portion of my view down to the tarmac. Pine trees stood off in the distance. A few minutes later, we were taxiing down the runway in a bumpy takeoff and were gaining altitude. I tightened my grasp on Andrea’s package. Holding it somehow made me feel closer to her, even if the plane had now moved high above the clouds and we were soaring farther and farther away from her with every breath.

  2

  “I think you’re in my seat.” I glanced at my ticket and then back to the person in my window seat. I’d made it to Chicago, and now I had to change planes. Next stop, LAX. Except for the usurper in my seat.

  She pulled earbuds out of ears that had many studs. “What?”

  “This is my seat.”

  She shook her short, spiky blonde hair. “No, I don’t think so.” She replaced the earbuds, closed her eyes, and continued to ignore me standing there.

  I slipped into the aisle since other people were trying to get past me and to their own seats. I tapped her shoulder. Her eyelids, which had been outlined in dark eyeliner, popped back open.

  “Yes?” She sounded bored by my intrusion to her solitude.

  “I really think you are in my seat.” I smiled and held my ticket out to her.

  She gave a quick glance at the paper, but I could tell she had no intention of actually reading it.

  “Fine!” She huffed and stood, grabbing a tan over-the-shoulder canvas bag that had sketches in permanent marker drawn all over it. Her eyes opened wide and she gave another huff.

  I guess that was her way of saying excuse me.

  Once the aisle cleared, I stepped backward and let her out. Then I reentered and sat down in my seat. OK, Lord, it would be really great if she wouldn’t be sitting right next to me for this flight. Yeah, that would be totally great. I had enough on my mind. I didn’t need some rude, annoyed chick at my elbow.

  A flight attendant approached her as the blonde just stood there in the aisle. “Can I help you find your seat?”

  “Well, I thought I had found my seat until this guy forced me out of it.” She sent an accusing glare my way.

  The flight attendant tried a genial smile, but she couldn’t hide the slightly reproving expression in her eyes.

  As if I was the problem here. Can’t a guy catch a break? I held out my ticket. “I’m not trying to cause a scene. This is my seat.”

  She took my ticket and glanced at it. “Yes, sir, it is.” She passed it back and her smile seemed more genuine. She turned to the passenger who’d been the cause of this whole disruption. “Can I see your ticket, miss?”

  “I guess I have it somewhere.” She propped her bag on the top of the seats and commenced digging through it. From all the banging sounds coming from inside it, I was amazed it had passed airline inspection. There had to be at least one contraband item in there like a nail file or something.

  “You have the correct aisle, but you’re in the middle seat.” The flight attendant patted the seat next to mine.

  I just had to ask, Why!

  The flight attendant left and my seat companion took the spot next to me.

  I just wanted to put my noise-canceling headphones on and ignore her for the rest of the trip. She’d probably do the same to me. And most likely kick me if I asked to get out to use the restroom. I could hold it for a couple hours. Maybe I’d just sleep.

  A minute later, a man in a business suit took over the seat beside her and started typing into his tablet.

  I peered over at my neighbor. “Hey, I’m sorry about that,” I offered with a smile. Time to be that shining light in the world. I prepared myself for the onslaught.

  She glanced at me with her mouth slanted at an angle and her left eyebrow, which had a tiny silver hoop through it, raised slightly. “Yeah.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess it wasn’t your fault.”

  “I wouldn’t have really minded, but I, uh”—I laughed lightly—“I get motion sickness, so I have to sit by the window near the wings.”

  Her slender cheekbones moved upward into a more pleasant expression, which made it all the way to her sky-blue eyes. “Mom usually books me the window seat. I guess I read the seat assignment wrong.” She held out her hand. “I’m Charli…with an i.”

  “An eye?” I pointed to my eye and grinned. I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Charli. I’m Luke.”

  “Luke.” She said it as though she approved. “Sorry I was such a jerk earlier. I just had like this awful fight with my dad before I got on the plane.”

  “Yeah, dads.”

  “Exactly.” She settled back in her seat and then eyed my package. “Who’s it from?”

  “Oh.”
I scrunched it next to my body on the side opposite from her. “It’s nothing.”

  “I’m being nosey. It’s one of my many faults. It’s not a Christmas present, I assume. From a girlfriend? I know, a goodbye present.”

  My mouth angled upward. I couldn’t help it. “OK, yeah, it’s from my girlfriend.”

  “I figured. You look like the type.”

  “The type of what?”

  “The type to have a girlfriend. Let me guess. You’ve known each other forever and been dating for years.” She rolled her eyes.

  I chuckled. “Wrong and wrong. I moved from California four months ago. Andrea and I have only been dating for two months.”

  “I stand corrected. So, are you going to open it or what?”

  “You are nosey.”

  “It’s an endearing quality.”

  “I thought you said it was one of your faults.”

  “Yeah, it can go either way.” She tugged on a piece of her blonde hair. “So?”

  “It’s nothing. I placed it under my seat.”

  “OK, fine.” From her canvas bag, she pulled out a package of specialty jellybeans. “Want some?” she offered.

  I didn’t really, but I had a feeling she’d take it personally if I refused. “Sure.”

  She ripped open the package and poured a bunch in my hand.

  “Thanks.”

  “So, are you from Chicago too?” She popped a couple jellybeans into her mouth.

  This was going to be one long flight and talking was the last thing on my mind. “Why? Are you from Chicago?”

  She nodded.

  “Oh, that’s cool. I actually took off from North Carolina this morning and switched planes here.”

  “But you said you moved from California. So, are you like a Cali native or something?”

  “We don’t really call it Cali.” I squinted my eyes at her playfully.

  “Oh, sorry. I am corrected once again.” She gave me a salute, and sun from the window glinted off the multi-colored stones from the many rings on all her fingers.

  “Yeah, I was born there. Mom and Dad divorced and Mom wanted a change.” Man, why was I telling this stranger my life story?

  “My mom too. She works for this airline, so she can basically live anywhere in the country. My parents are divorced also. Mom just moved over the summer. She wanted me to come with her, but I didn’t want to leave my friends. You know. So this is my third trip to CA. It’s OK if I abbreviate it, right?” she teased, with a sarcastic grin and a slight tilt to her head.

  Charli looked a couple years younger than me. She might have actually been pretty. It was hard to tell with all the dark makeup.

  “Hey, call it whatever you want. I’m not the Cali Police or anything.” I grinned and she grinned too. It then occurred to me that I might be acting more friendly with her than I should. Was I flirting? This was the first time I’d had a girlfriend. And until today I usually had Andrea with me when other girls were around. Not that I really noticed them. I turned to look out the window. “Um, anyway, I hope you’ll have a good time visiting your mom over Christmas.”

  “Oh, don’t get me going on Christmas…” Except that she did keep going on about Christmas, and she laid out every issue she had or ever did have with the holiday.

  It kind of bothered me that she felt this way. This wasn’t just another holiday. It was the celebration of the birth of Christ—the Savior of the world. And yet hadn’t I just been irritated by the whole Christmas holiday earlier in the day?

  But this was different. The whole Santa, shopping, commercialism version of the holiday did get old, but the true meaning of Christmas, that’s what was so important. I thought about telling her just that, but I knew if I did, it would spur on a long conversation and I just wanted quiet.

  Just then, the on-board safety announcements started and Charli ended her diatribe to listen. That didn’t mean she stopped communicating, as she rolled her eyes during several passages in the script.

  They mentioned storing our belongings underneath our seats, and it made me think about Andrea’s gift again. A part of me did want to open it, but not now that I had an audience with Charli. Who knows what she’d say about it.

  A few minutes later, the beverage service caught Charli’s attention as they moved closer to our row. I took that as my chance to grab the package again. I stuffed it inside my coat. When the beverage cart cleared the aisle, I excused myself to the restroom.

  I hated these airplane restrooms with their tight spaces and odd smells. I stood there for a moment and stared at the package while turning it around between my fingers. I almost feared opening it. It’s not like Andrea and I had parted on bad terms. She didn’t even know how disappointed I’d felt that she’d turned me down.

  This was stupid. I set it on the edge of the sink and then ripped open the wrapping. It was a journal of some kind. A Proverbs prayer journal, from what it said on the cover. Wait, I recognized it. She’d shown it to me the night of homecoming, but she wouldn’t let me see what she wrote then. I opened it to see Andrea’s name inside. She sent me her journal? Why would she do that? Quickly, I closed it and slipped it back into my coat before returning to my seat.

  Charli turned to me as soon as I sat back down. “You opened it, didn’t you?”

  “Opened what?”

  “Your package, of course. I understand. You wanted some privacy. So I won’t even ask what it was.” She glanced down to the magazine in her hands. She flipped a page.

  I still stared at her, waiting. I hadn’t known her long, but silence seemed incredibly foreign to her.

  She peered back to me. “What?”

  “I’m just waiting for it.”

  “Hey, I can be quiet when I want to.” She held up her magazine. “What do you think of this one?”

  I’d been wrong. It wasn’t a magazine like most girls read, fashion or entertainment and all that. It was a trade journal for tattoos. The longer I knew this girl, the more uncomfortable she made me. “Are you getting a tattoo?”

  “No. I mean, I already have three. You want to see them?” She started to pull down her coat and shirt sleeve at her shoulder.

  “That’s OK.” I stopped her.

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m a tattoo artist. Actually, I’m just an artist, and at the moment I’ve been designing tattoos for this shop in Chicago. The owner is a friend of my dad’s.”

  Things were now becoming abundantly clear about Charli. And it just made me miss Andrea all the more. Why hadn’t I called her when I had the chance? Now I’d have to wait hours until we arrived in LA. What time would it even be on the East Coast? Hopefully, still early enough that I could call her before her curfew.

  “You can take out your package. I won’t bother you. I promise.” She held up fingers like a scout.

  I gave her a half smile. “It’s nothing. Just a book.”

  “A book. That must mean you read. I like smart men.” She gave a silly smile and rolled her eyes once again. “You read your book, and I’ll draw out some new sketches. Then you can tell me which one you like the best.” She removed a full-sized sketchbook from her seemingly bottomless bag.

  “I don’t know that I’m the best person to help you with that.”

  She gave me and my outfit of a button-down blue shirt and black jeans a quick once-over. “You’re probably right. You are a little too preppy for my tastes, but look around. This plane is filled with old people and families. You’re stuck with me.”

  Stuck is exactly how I felt, suctioned between the window and the armrest, millimeters from this strange girl who had an uncanny way with a pen. I watched her sketch a skull with flames billowing out of the eyeholes.

  I removed Andrea’s journal from my coat and opened it.

  A handwritten note was stuck between the first and second page. Luke, I’m letting you borrow my prayer journal while you’re gone. You even have my permission to read my entries and add some of your own. Keeping this journal has
helped me more than I can say. I know you have a lot of things going on with your dad and college and everything. Don’t forget to pray on it. I’ll miss you. Love, Andrea.

  Now she just made me feel bad. I’d been angry with her and then she went and did this for me. I’ll admit there have been times when she’d been completely confusing to me. But lately she’d been...what’s the word...peaceful. More confident too.

  I read over her note again—Love, Andrea. Love? She’d never written that to me before—not in a text or an email. Were we really at the stage to start signing off with Love? We hadn’t even said that to each other in person. Did I love Andrea? I didn’t know, and at the moment it was just giving me a headache.

  But maybe she was right about one thing. I needed to pray. And I would. At some point. Later.

  3

  Charli and I parted ways after we exited the plane, but not before she turned and grabbed the cellphone from my hand.

  “What are you doing? Hey, I need that.” I reached for my phone.

  “Of course you will,” she said as she typed into my phone. “Now you have my number.” Then she handed it back. “Keep in touch. I’ll be here all week, and I get bored easily.”

  I could have guessed that. I nodded with a smile, but I had absolutely zero intention of calling her. Charli was good at keeping me occupied on a plane, but it’s not like I planned to keep her number on speed dial. “Is your mom coming for you?” I asked.

  “She’s working. I’ll just grab a taxi.”

  I knew I should offer her a ride, but that was taking this acquaintanceship way farther than I wanted it to go. “My dad can take you home.” The words shot out of my mouth like a quick line drive.

  “It’s OK, really. Mom works less than five minutes from the airport. We’re doing dinner and all that.”

  We walked outside with our luggage, and I helped her into a yellow taxicab.

  It wasn’t long afterwards that my dad drove up. A warm breeze ruffled my hair as I went for the car handle. Those familiar Santa Ana winds. The late-afternoon sun shone through white fluffy clouds in a hazy blue sky. What a difference from the weather this morning.