Fiction: Mistletoe

Day three of "25 Christmas Eves" appears below. Every day between the 1st and 25th of December, I'm posting new genre fiction. Today's is a short piece entitled, "Mistletoe."

By: Erin L. Snyder

It’s bitter cold, but that doesn’t stop Patty from staking out the door, mug of eggnog in hand, to greet each new arrival as they enter. Wendel’s the next to show up, gift clutched tightly (yet another bottle of wine, wrapped in metallic green foil), and he practically runs into Patty, who stops him with a wry smile. ā€œWendel,ā€ she says pointing upward. ā€œMistletoe.ā€ She grabs his tie and pulls him into a kiss tasting of sweetened alcohol, sugar cookies, swedish meatballs (courtesy of Beth, who’s been eying Patty’s greetings, and may have just mouthed something uncomplimentary beneath her breath about her former roommate), candy canes, and a single bite of Jacob’s fruit cake that Patty had indulged in ā€œjust to see if it’s really as bad as they sayā€ (much to her disappointment, it hadn’t been).

Wendel’s taken by surprise. A heavyset, balding man in his mid-thirties, he’s not used to this kind of attention, especially from someone like Patty, and he finds himself stuttering to follow-up with some clever response he never fully forms. A siren sounds out in the distance behind him, and Francine cracks a joke about it being some kiss. Patty almost falls back into Wendel’s arms cackling with laughter and manages to catch herself, though a generous portion of her eggnog makes it out of her mug, flying through the air to land square in the middle of Wendel’s green and red sweater.

ā€œOh. That’s fine. Don’t give a second thought,ā€ Wendel says needlessly - the event never even merited an initial thought in Patty’s head: she never noticed.

Wendel takes a deep breath to give it a third go, but the fates aren’t on his side. Jake pulls him away to introduce him to Karen, who’s maybe more his type, anyway. Meanwhile, Jon’s ladling eggnog into another mug. He fills it to the brim and runs it over to Patty. He holds it out to her but pulls it back when she reaches.

ā€œMistletoe,ā€ he reminds her, arching his eyebrows.

She wrinkles her nose and presses her finger into the center of his chest. ā€œYou got your kiss,ā€ she reminds him.

ā€œI know,ā€ Jon replies. ā€œBut I don’t make the rules.ā€ He steals a kiss while he hands over the drink, swapping it for Patty’s empty cup. When he draws back, Patty coughs. ā€œIs my breath that bad?ā€ he asks humorously.

ā€œIt’s not you,ā€ Patty says. ā€œIt’s this air, you know? I’ve been feeling it all afternoon.ā€ She takes a swig from the fresh mug.

ā€œThat should fix it,ā€ Jon says, trying hard to not to sound too eager.

ā€œHow many of those has she had?ā€ Beth asks Karen, who’s been regretting hosting the party ever since her husband, Barry, excused himself since he wasn’t feeling well. Karen shrugs, feeling less than protective of Patty since she unilaterally decided Barry wasn’t exempt from the law of the mistletoe.

Another car pulls up, and the doorbell rings. Patty pulls it open and is disappointed to see Julia standing in front of her. ā€œJon,ā€ she says, grabbing his arm. ā€œYou’re up.ā€

Jon glances at Julia. ā€œI don’t think Julia wants to--ā€ he starts, expressing a reluctance he hadn’t shown for Francine or Melissa.

ā€œIt’s a rule,ā€ Patty says, hitting him on the arm. ā€œIt’s... I was reading about it. It’s a pagan ritual. If you don’t do it, Christmas doesn’t come. You don’t want to ruin Christmas, do you?ā€

ā€œCan I come in?ā€ Julia asks, still in the doorway, right before Patty grabs her and practically bashes her head into Jon’s. Behind them, the flashing lights of a passing ambulance paints the snow the color of holiday lights.

Jon does his diligence, while Patty claps and Beth stares on in disbelief, already regretting locking lips with Jon when she arrived.

Julia pushes Jon away and rolls her eyes. Kyle shrugs innocently.

ā€œIt’s a rule,ā€ Patty says again, when Julia glares at her.

ā€œMistletoe is poisonous,ā€ Julia says, before pushing by to get herself something to drink. Karen meets her halfway.

ā€œJules! I’m glad you made it!ā€ She throws her arms around her old friend. ā€œI thought Irene was coming with you.ā€

ā€œShe wanted to, but they needed her at the hospital. With everything happening, they said--ā€

ā€œWhat’s happening?ā€ Wendel asks, interrupting the conversation. He’s not so much interested as bored.

ā€œOh, you know. Didn’t you read the paper? About the birds?ā€

ā€œHey!ā€ Kyle yells from the other side of the room. ā€œWe should get out the games!ā€

ā€œNo,ā€ Karen says, excusing herself from Wendel and Julia. ā€œKyle, we’re not... those are for later.ā€ In Karen’s mind, ā€œlaterā€ means ā€œnever,ā€ since she’s hoping the party will die down within the hour. If someone pulls out Twister, she knows she’ll be lucky to get them out before two in the morning. ā€œOh, Beth. Beth, honey. Please turn off the TV.ā€

Beth mutes the sound but leaves it on. There’s some kind of news special cutting back and forth between pictures of dead crows and a hospital.

Patty coughs again, this time louder.

ā€œHuh,ā€ Wendel says, rubbing his throat. His gaze is locked on Patty, who’s still coughing. He’s about to come to her rescue, but Jon beats him to her, offering a green handkerchief from his pocket. People like Jon will always beat him, Wendel thinks.

ā€œYou okay, Babe?ā€ he asks.

ā€œI’m fine,ā€ Patty says, embarrassed. ā€œIt’s just the air, you know?ā€ She starts laughing, but it disintegrates into another coughing fit.

Come to think of it, Wendel’s feeling a little something, as well. Briefly, he wonders if he might be catching a cold. He looks around the room and decides it must be the weather: everyone looks a little uncomfortable, just like Patty said. He jumps when he hears something thump against the roof.

ā€œWhat was that?ā€ Kyle asks.

ā€œSleigh bells!ā€ Melissa says, coughing once herself.

ā€œJust rain,ā€ Karen replies, sipping her drink and wondering how many of her guests are planning on crashing on her couch and whether she can find a polite way of preventing that from happening. The last thing she wants waking up to on Christmas morning is a handful of hungover guests who’ve outstayed their welcome.

Patty’s still coughing away. She gets a hold of herself after a minute. ā€œEww,ā€ she says, drawing Jon’s handkerchief away from her face. It’s perfect for the holiday now, with a streak of red cutting through the green.

Everyone except Kyle stares silently. But Kyle makes his way to window. ā€œIt’s not rain,ā€ he says. ā€œIt’s... it’s birds. There are birds falling out of the sky.ā€ He’s speaking softly, too surprised to feel alarmed. ā€œIs it because of the cold?ā€

Jon recoils from Patty when he sees the handkerchief, and something brushes through his hair as he steps back. He swipes at it, as if it was a bug, but it’s just the mistletoe, now swaying overhead. He opens his mouth to say something, but his throat feels dry, brittle, and cracked. He tries to clear it, but it just comes out as a cough. In the very back of his mouth, he can taste droplets of blood.

In the distance the sirens howl. The television, still on mute, shows men in masks rushing around a hospital already full. The word, ā€œPandemicā€ appears in bold black letters.

And the mistletoe keeps swaying back and forth, like the pendulum of a clock counting down the seconds to Christmas.

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