Written Through These Amber Eyes

     Autumn stands on the stage and looks down at their friends, trying not to notice everyone else filling the seats. Their friend Mandy signed them up for the Holiday open mic at Silver Creek Café. Their shaky voice begins: 

“The Christmas Miracle that you wouldn’t imagine would ever come out of the short-haired, non-binary, flannel, and snapback-wearing individual. Sometimes, they can be wholesome, too. As I sit gazing out the library window, watching the leaves fall, I can’t help but wish to find Luke’s Diner in this hollow city. My mouth salivates as I think about cutting into pumpkin pancakes, followed by sips of dark black coffee poured straight from the carafe. Then I catch myself laughing by myself because I’m wearing Luke’s everyday outfit, and that’s concerning. It’s not too far off, considering I would spend eight years on the sideline waiting for the most beautiful woman to get it together. Pathetic, I know, but all of us eventually roll our eyes at Lorelai.  That’s enough rambling back to my Christmas Miracle. I wake up in the crisp early morning because my inner child still associates Christmas morning with sprinting to the stockings Santa overstuffed so much that they would be sitting on the fireplace, sometimes even spilled onto the floor. (To be a kid again, I had it so good.) I would instead walk to the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee. I sit outside on my patio and sense the snow is coming tonight. I would respond to the multiple family group chats saying Merry Christmas, and I’d eventually get up to get ready and head over to Mom and Dad’s for brunch. Christmas is about your nieces and nephews decorating cookies, opening gifts, and seeing them run around aimlessly together as cousins should. It’s simple, full of laughter, probably pictures we’ll shake our heads at now, but in years, we’ll cherish. I am going home and grabbing a book to read under a blanket while drinking spiced apple cider tea. If you asked me to share a Christmas Miracle before, there would be massive trees overly decorated and lit up, old fashions, spiked apple cider, and I would bring her a cup of coffee to bed. She’d yell at me to turn off my pop-singer Christmas covers while I showered. I’d pace around thinking how late we would be because none of her outfits worked for her, even though I say she looked perfect in all of them. Phone calls with her family would follow the day at my parent’s house. Then we would see Christmas lights just in case we had a chance of snow falling, put our matching pajamas on, finish up the advent calendar, and watch our final Christmas movie. It’s fun to frolic around the holiday decorations, movies, clothes, and activities, but it wasn’t all the shiny lights, alcohol-filled drinks, and lust for another kiss under the snowfall. It was the simplicity of sharing it all with her. It’s okay for the idea of A Christmas Miracle to be tangible. It’s not playing it safe; it’s knowing that there’s joy in rewatching movies and shows that wear the comfort of holidays. It’s knowing that re-reading a book every season that wraps you within its comforting bound pages can bring joy. I’ll still smile at the glowing Christmas trees and partake in the warm apple cider and hot cocoa. I will always know that when the time is here, I’ll remember the stockings, I’ll remember the foods and treats at brunch, I’ll be open to the traditions of other families, and maybe A Christmas Miracle changes often. Still, I don’t want the suspense of it at my fingertips. I want it in the grasp of my hands just as a cup of coffee is.” 

     Everyone begins clapping, and Autumn hears their friends “woo’s.” They quickly walk off the tiny stage and head to the back of the café. Mandy meets them back during the next break after a few other people have gone. 

     “You did great, Autumn; everyone wants to go out after this. Are you down?” Mandy whispers as someone walks up to them with long, wavey black hair falling from her beanie. 

     “Stevie needed me to do something, so I’ll be back, Autumn,” Mandy says and then walks away, looking back with a grin, pointing at the girl who just took every bit of Autumn’s attention. 

“Hi, I’m Erin. I have to say I enjoyed your Christmas Miracle. If I were in your shoes, I think I’d be a Grinch in the second half.” She says. 

“Well, there’s no fun in that now, is there? Plus, I don’t have my Max yet. Then yes, of course.” Autumn says. 

     Mandy walks back over and invites Erin to join their friends in going to the bar after this, and suddenly, they’re all cramming into an Uber. Everyone joins in for karaoke, and Autumn goes home with Erin around 3 in the morning. Autumn wakes at seven, goes to the bathroom, and then debates whether to wake Erin up to say goodbye or head out. That’s when they hear Erin say from the kitchen.

“Here’s some coffee before you run out. You can keep the mug or bring it back someday, whatever suits you.” Erin says while handing off the coffee mug. She readily takes a sip from her cup. 

“Thanks, I’ll bring it back or give it back, I guess, if that’s something you would want?” Autumn says while looking down at the coffee in their hands. 

“I already saw you staring at the door, deciding to leave without saying anything, Autumn. And that’s okay. It makes sense. Why would you feel comfortable exposing such sensitivity if it was true to you.” Erin says as she’s getting ready to act as if Autumn isn’t even in the same room. 

“This is cliché, but I don’t do things like last night. I wouldn’t want to write and speak if it wasn’t my truth. I left my number on a note, and if you would want to grab a drink or go eat sometime, let me know.” Autumn says while walking out. 

     Autumn walks out of Erin’s apartment and goes to call Mandy, then hangs up when Mandy answers. Mandy calls back, and Autumn ignores the call and texts that they’re okay and will call later. They take an Uber home, and when they get there, their neighbor sees them and asks if they had a late night. Autumn responds by just laughing and goes inside to shower, change, and get ready for work. 

     After work, Autumn decides to drop the mug off at Erin’s. They left a sticky note on the inside that just said thank you. After they get home, they find themselves thinking about whether they’ll get a text from Erin at some point. The repetition of getting up, going to work, going home, and staring at blank pages goes on for the rest of the week until they meet up with Mandy for a pre-game and another night out. The only difference is that the games they play with friends don’t seem as attractive this time. 

“Why don’t you just show up at her door?” Stevie asks. 

“They can’t just show up at some girl’s door!” Mandy says as she flicks Stevie’s hair. 

“If she answers the door, that’s their answer because she’s either out with someone else, peeping through the hole and not interested, or she’s going to swing the door open,” Stevie says. 

“Maybe it’s worth a shot,” Mandy says.   

“We’re all going! Just invite her out, and if not, we’ll still go out. Shots if she comes and shots if she doesn’t, then we all win. Let’s go!” Stevie says while taking Autumn’s phone to look up the address in Uber. 

“That is so bad I’m not knocking on this girl’s door to ask her to come play with me and my friends. That’s weird. What are we?” Autumn says. 

“We’re all going to get you a girlfriend, that’s what. The Uber is almost here, so let’s go!” Stevie says.

To Be Continued…