Chapter 8 Adored

• *Patrick*
• Early on Saturday morning, I drove to Noel to help with the toy drive, hoping I’d get to see my Mistletoe Mystery woman.
• It wasn’t the first time I had volunteered at this event. A few years prior, I had come here with Emily. At the time, I felt happy about her willingness to help children. But I’d taken off my rose-colored glasses since then, and looking back, it seemed more likely she just wanted to have five minutes of fame on the television show that was covering the event.
• She’d only been there long enough to hold a kid in her lap while they asked her questions about volunteering and helping the needy. She’d spewed some lies about how she always adored kids and couldn’t wait to be a mother one day. She said she wished she were older so she could consider adopting. Looking back, she only ever talked about herself. She didn’t even mention the kid, not even the one sitting on her lap. It was like that poor little boy was just a prop to make her look more saintly.
• Thinking about that, I started feeling guilty about the reason I was going there. This was about helping those in need, assisting families that couldn’t afford a holiday dinner much less presents for all of their kids. Because of the stitch of guilt I’d sewn into the back of my mind, I skipped the coffee I was going to grab and made sure I arrived early.
• For a moment, I worried whether Emily would show up, but when I learned that only the regular news channel would be there for a few minutes to promote the event, I figured I was safe from another unexpected visit.
• When I arrived, there were already a few families lined up. Most of them, I would have never guessed that they were struggling. Then there were some other families that were a little more obviously down on their luck. The children had worn sneakers and the slightly greasy hair, the little discoloration under their eyes from being under-nourished.
• “Where do you want me?” I asked as I signed in.
• A middle-aged woman carrying a clipboard flipped through some papers. “There’s nobody stationed at the toy table. How about that?” she asked. Then she lifted the board to cover half her face and leaned in as if to tell me a secret. “That’s the best seat in the house.”
• I laughed. “Because it’s the most fun?” I whispered back.
• She smiled at me. “It’s fun. You get the most laughs and smiles. And it’s next to the cookie table.”
• I glanced across the room. A couple of older folks were walking around, pulling a tablecloth a table. “Is it the best? Or is it the most torturous?”
• The woman with the clipboard shrugged. “Depends on how nice you are to the cookie people.”
• I parted ways with the clipboard woman and began to examine my station. There was a system for the toys between boys and girls. I wasn’t the kind of guy to assume that all boys wanted trucks while all girls wanted Barbies. But while I was making a new organization system, someone came by and told me not to change too much. I complied, but decided that it would still be best to let the kids choose whatever they wanted.
• A young man with a clipboard and a name badge reading “Ty” came by shortly after that and told me I’d likely have one or two helpers, and then someone would come to relieve me for a lunch break.
• As I continued to settle in, I spotted the cookie people loading up their tables. The older man and woman looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place them. After all, I’d been all over Noel for the last couple of weeks. I scanned the room, which was growing busier, wondering what the likelihood of finding my match would be. Then I glanced outside at the families and reorganized my priorities–the doors would be opening soon.
• Just a couple of minutes before the church opened the door, my helper arrived. He was a high-school aged kid with curly red hair and green Converse. His name was Oliver. We didn’t have much time to become acquainted and come up with a strategy before the toy drive officially got started.
• I loved that I had come to support this cause because it was so much more than just a toy drive. Families received new clothes, food, and household items, and they got to top it off with special gifts like toys for their kids and sweet treats. Lots of people showed up and just five minutes in, I was in the zone.
• I had forgotten how much I enjoyed kids. Their joy and innocence was heartwarming and it gave me hope for the world. Most of the kids were grateful to receive anything, and a few of them even cried at getting to choose their own toy. I was glad that I had done this, no matter what the original intention had been. Giving out toys alone probably touched the hearts of these kids, but I was here helping do more than that. Every high five, fist bump and hug these children got was a connection, a reminder that someone had their back and someone cared about them.
• One little girl, about seven years old, nearly brought me to tears when she thanked me for the gift and immediately turned around and gave the toy to her older sister, who was probably twelve. “I wanted to give this to you,” she told her sister, “because you don’t have a doll. Now we can play together!” The mom watched with a bittersweet expression that I couldn’t even begin to understand.
• I gave the little girl another doll, and she looked so happy. As they walked away, I turned to avoid anyone seeing me shed a tear—it just seemed unprofessional. I didn’t want to ruin the mood. But to my surprise, I met eyes with someone familiar.
• She was apparently volunteering too, except she was stationed a couple tables over at the home supplies booth. When she caught my gaze, she smiled and waved. It was a cute, shy smile that brought a little bit of pinkness to her cheeks. I was surprised to see her—Holly. How could I have forgotten a classic Christmas name like that? I smiled back.
• Eventually, when we caught a lull and another volunteer had arrived to give me a break, I left the table for a moment to go say hi. She spotted me making my way over and pardoned herself as well. We found ourselves meeting in the middle at the big Christmas tree with blue and silver ribbons cascading from the top to the floor.
• “Holly!” I said, maybe a bit too cheerfully. I really wasn’t expecting to see her there.
• “Patrick,” she said back, a bit awkwardly as she clenched her hands together in front of her.
• I was happy that she remembered my name.
• “I’m surprised to see you. I assumed you lived in Mistletoe Mountain,” I said.
• She nodded. “I do. I’m just here visiting and volunteering. I thought you lived in Mistletoe Mountain.”
• I laughed. “Oh. I do. I guess I just didn’t expect to run into another commuter.”
• She grinned, and a short silence grew between us as we both hesitated to say something.
• “So, how are things going with the toys?” she finally asked.
• I felt a bit ridiculous that I had suddenly forgotten how to carry a conversation, but I was grateful for her ice-breaking skills. “It’s so great getting to see some of these kids get to accept a Christmas present. I can’t imagine what it means to them. It seems like such a small gesture, but I’m sure they’ll grow up being able to appreciate Christmas and experience that good old holiday cheer.”
• Holly smiled. I noticed the slightest dimple in her cheek. “Aww, that’s cute,” she said. “I’m jealous. I know it’s important, but handing out toilet paper doesn’t give a lot of people the glittery, fluttery feelings.”
• “Aw, come on,” I said. “Don’t sell your role short. What will people appreciate more when they're in the bathroom–toilet paper or a superhero action figure?”
• She crossed her arms casually and shrugged. “Depends on how bored you are, I guess.”
• I chuckled. I remembered that she had been quite funny that night when I first met her.
• “But how do I know you’re doing the job well?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at me. “Are you capable of matching the right toy with the right kid?”
• “Hah!” I guffawed playfully. “Of course. I’m the best man for the job!”
• “The best man?” she asked with uncertainty.
• I nodded with confidence. “I’m a professional when it comes to toys.”
• Holly raised an eyebrow. “Professional with toys?”
• “I’m practically a ten-year-old at heart,” I boasted as if that were something someone in their early twenties should be proud about. “I know it all.”
• “Even the girl stuff?” she challenged me.
• I scoffed. “You know how Beach Ken is good at ‘beach?’ Well, Patrick,” I gestured to myself with my thumbs, “is good at toys.”
• “Ken as in Barbie’s Ken?” she asked.
• I nodded again.
• Holly blinked at me for a moment before breaking into a smile. “Alright. Well, I think I have to believe you. But you best know that I’ll be keeping an eye on you from over there,” she said, pointing back to her station, “to make sure you’re doing a sufficient job.”
• Something lifted in my stomach, like I’d just dropped over a hill at high speed. I liked the idea of her keeping an eye on me. I felt a slow grin lift on one side. “Alright. I look forward to that.”
• Holly glanced over her shoulder. “I think I better get back,” she said.
• I nodded. “Me too,” I said. As she turned to leave, I stopped her. “Holly!”
• She paused and looked back at me.
• “If you need any help, I also know a lot about toilet paper!”
• She rolled her eyes and smirked before turning around.
• After we parted ways, I got swept up into my work, unless you count the few times I glanced up to see if Holly was indeed keeping an eye on me. I found myself feeling a little let down when I didn’t meet her eyes. I supposed I was feeling hopeful that she might like me.
• A little past noon, I was relieved for an hour lunch break. When I made it to the break room, to my surprise, Holly was seated at one of the round tables, snacking on a half of a sandwich.
• “Hey!” I said. “You’re here too.”
• She swallowed her bite and nodded. “I am indeed.” Then she nodded toward the counter behind her. “Free lunch. Pick a sandwich, some chips, cookies, and a drink.”
• I followed her suggestion and sat beside her. I hoped it wasn’t too presumptuous that she was okay with me doing so. “You seem like a pro,” I told her. “Do you come here for this every year?”
• “Oh, the ‘Professional with Toys’ is calling me a pro? I’m flattered!” she said, pressing her hand to her chest with faux honor.
• I knocked her elbow playfully with mine and popped open my bag of chips.
• “Nah, I’ve been here a lot in my youth, but as an adult only a couple of times. My parents do it every year. How about you?”
• I cracked open my soda can. “A while back I came with my girlfriend, but this is only my second time.”
• “Oh, is your girlfriend here, too?” Holly asked. Then she immediately took another bite of her sandwich.
• I kicked myself for referring to Emily as my girlfriend, but I supposed it was an old habit. She was the only girlfriend I’d ever had. “Ah, no.” I said, waving my hand. Then wanting to ensure I was clear, I added, “We broke up. It’s been over a year now. I don’t have a girlfriend.”
• Holly hummed indifferently as she continued to chew her bite of sandwich.
• “What about you? Boyfriend? Is he around—”
• She shook her hand. “Don’t have one,” she said.
• “Oh,” I said, trying to match her indifference.
• “I’ve been focused on school. Even the poor jerk I dated in high school wouldn’t qualify as a boyfriend because I was so wrapped up in AP classes,” she explained. “When I got to college, I just kept my eye on the prize.”
• I found myself wanting to know more about her, wanting to keep the conversation going, not just for conversation sake but because I liked to hear her talk.
• “What’s the prize?” I asked.
• She shrugged. “Graduation, I guess. I never wanted to stay in school for long, so I did everything I could to ensure I’d be done early.”
• We got into talking about school and she explained that she had double-majored in English Literature and Library Science and that she wanted to be a librarian.
• “Actually, this whole last week I’ve been working on finals. They’re supposed to post our final grades around 1:00 today.”
• I glanced down at my watch and grinned. I showed it to her. “Would you look at that?”
• She gulped down another bite. “Oh,” she said, looking a little nervous.
• “Do you want to check?” I asked her.
• She hesitated. “Is it weird that I’m scared?”
• “Why would you be scared?” I asked, resting my arm on the table.
• Holly set down her sandwich and leaned back in her chair, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. “If I pass, then I’ve graduated. I mean, I’ve always been a good student, so I’m sure I’m good, but… I don’t know if I’m one-hundred percent ready to move on to the next thing.”
• I couldn’t help but sympathize. “Well, it might not make you feel better, but we’re rarely one hundred percent ready for anything,” I told her.
• She looked at me, right in the eyes. Heck, maybe so deep she was staring into my soul. Maybe this was the first time I’d really looked at her. Her eyes were a beautiful earthy green that had seemed brown until now.
• “Let’s check it out,” I encouraged her
• She took in and let out a big sigh before taking her phone out. She was silent as she thumbed her screen. And then… a slow, sneaky smile spread across her face.
• “You did it,” I said in a quiet voice.
• She glanced at me and her smile grew a bit wider. There was that peek of a dimple again. “I’m done,” she said.
• “Well! This deserves a celebration!” I cheered. “Are you going to party it up?”
• She looked at me doubtfully. “How many librarians do you know who like to ‘party it up’?”
• I shrugged. “Well as the Professional with Toys, I’m also pretty much the Professional of All Things Fun. I can plan a wide variety of parties.”
• “Do you have a ‘congratulations on becoming an adult, I hope you don’t fail’ party plan?” she asked, setting her phone face-down on the table.
• I crossed my arms coolly. “I have some ideas. Just leave it to me.”
• “You’re really gonna plan my graduation party?” she asked, bewildered. “You don’t even know me.”
• It might have seemed strange, but I did want to do something for her. Call it the Christmas spirit, but I just wanted to spread some of this cheer.
• “If you’re down with it,” I said, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the table. I was honestly feeling a little worried that she might think I was a weirdo and turn down my idea, especially the longer she was quiet.
• Then she hummed and just said, “Okay. Let’s do it. You can plan a party for me.”