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
Wendelās taken by surprise. A heavyset, balding man in his mid-thirties, heās 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 Wendelās 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 Wendelās green and red sweater.
āOh. Thatās fine. Donāt give a second thought,ā Wendel says needlessly - the event never even merited an initial thought in Pattyās head: she never noticed.
Wendel takes a deep breath to give it a third go, but the fates arenāt on his side. Jake pulls him away to introduce him to Karen, whoās maybe more his type, anyway. Meanwhile, Jonās 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.
āMistletoe,ā he reminds her, arching his eyebrows.
She wrinkles her nose and presses her finger into the center of his chest. āYou got your kiss,ā she reminds him.
āI know,ā Jon replies. āBut I donāt make the rules.ā He steals a kiss while he hands over the drink, swapping it for Pattyās empty cup. When he draws back, Patty coughs. āIs my breath that bad?ā he asks humorously.
āItās not you,ā Patty says. āItās this air, you know? Iāve been feeling it all afternoon.ā She takes a swig from the fresh mug.
āThat should fix it,ā Jon says, trying hard to not to sound too eager.
āHow many of those has she had?ā Beth asks Karen, whoās been regretting hosting the party ever since her husband, Barry, excused himself since he wasnāt feeling well. Karen shrugs, feeling less than protective of Patty since she unilaterally decided Barry wasnāt 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. āJon,ā she says, grabbing his arm. āYouāre up.ā
Jon glances at Julia. āI donāt think Julia wants to--ā he starts, expressing a reluctance he hadnāt shown for Francine or Melissa.
āItās a rule,ā Patty says, hitting him on the arm. āItās... I was reading about it. Itās a pagan ritual. If you donāt do it, Christmas doesnāt come. You donāt want to ruin Christmas, do you?ā
āCan I come in?ā Julia asks, still in the doorway, right before Patty grabs her and practically bashes her head into Jonās. 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.
āItās a rule,ā Patty says again, when Julia glares at her.
āMistletoe is poisonous,ā Julia says, before pushing by to get herself something to drink. Karen meets her halfway.
āJules! Iām glad you made it!ā She throws her arms around her old friend. āI thought Irene was coming with you.ā
āShe wanted to, but they needed her at the hospital. With everything happening, they said--ā
āWhatās happening?ā Wendel asks, interrupting the conversation. Heās not so much interested as bored.
āOh, you know. Didnāt you read the paper? About the birds?ā
āHey!ā Kyle yells from the other side of the room. āWe should get out the games!ā
āNo,ā Karen says, excusing herself from Wendel and Julia. āKyle, weāre not... those are for later.ā In Karenās mind, ālaterā means ānever,ā since sheās hoping the party will die down within the hour. If someone pulls out Twister, she knows sheāll be lucky to get them out before two in the morning. āOh, Beth. Beth, honey. Please turn off the TV.ā
Beth mutes the sound but leaves it on. Thereās some kind of news special cutting back and forth between pictures of dead crows and a hospital.
Patty coughs again, this time louder.
āHuh,ā Wendel says, rubbing his throat. His gaze is locked on Patty, whoās still coughing. Heās 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.
āYou okay, Babe?ā he asks.
āIām fine,ā Patty says, embarrassed. āItās just the air, you know?ā She starts laughing, but it disintegrates into another coughing fit.
Come to think of it, Wendelās 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.
āWhat was that?ā Kyle asks.
āSleigh bells!ā Melissa says, coughing once herself.
āJust 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 whoāve outstayed their welcome.
Pattyās still coughing away. She gets a hold of herself after a minute. āEww,ā she says, drawing Jonās handkerchief away from her face. Itās 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. āItās not rain,ā he says. āItās... itās birds. There are birds falling out of the sky.ā Heās speaking softly, too surprised to feel alarmed. āIs 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 itās 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, āPandemicā 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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