there. “That’s what the new guy will be thinking. So maybe you can come up with an alternate reason for holding back on the holiday stuff that he will buy into. Like...religious reasons.”
“Seriously?” Sarcasm returned to Kim’s tone as she offered Brenda what she thought was a decent rendition of a go-away-and-leave-me-alone-or-else look.
Brenda performed a glossy hair flip. “Still not afraid,” she said. “Or discouraged.”
Kim got to her feet and smoothed her skirt over her hips. “I think it’s already too late for help of any kind.”
“Tell me about it,” Brenda said. “But first you have to dish about whether Monroe really does have a nice ass.”
Kim kneaded the space between her eyes with shaky fingers, trying to pinpoint the ache building there.
“You didn’t think he was hot?” Brenda continued. “That’s the word going around. H-o-t, as in fan yourself.”
“Yeah? Did you hear anything about the man being an arrogant idiot?” Kim asked.
“No. My sources might have left that part out.”
“I don’t actually care about the nice ass part, Bren. I prefer not to notice an area that I won’t be kissing.”
“Don’t be absurd, Kim. No one expects you to kiss anyone’s backside. It isn’t professional. What happened?”
“I’ll have to start over somewhere else, that’s what. Monroe won’t let me off the hook. He expects me to explain everything. He’ll expect me to cave.” She waved both hands in the air. “I can’t tell him about my background. I can barely talk about it to myself.”
“You told me.”
“That’s different. Best friends are best friends. How I grew up isn’t any of his business.”
“What about the fact that you’ve been wanting to forget about this issue with your family for some time now, anyway?” Brenda asked. “Maybe it’s the right time to take that next step.”
Kim couldn’t find the words to address Brenda’s remark. She wondered if anyone really knew how bad guilt trips felt and how deep some family issues went, if they hadn’t experienced it.
She had a hole inside her that hadn’t completely closed over and was filled with heartaches that had had plenty of time to fester at a cellular level. Her mother had constantly reminded her of how they’d been wronged by a man, and about the dishonest things all men do for utterly selfish reasons.
Her mom wouldn’t listen to advice about getting help in order to emerge from under the dark clouds surrounding her traumatic marital disappointment. Instead, she had spread those dark clouds over Kim.
The guilt about wanting to be rid of the deep-seated feelings of abandonment was sharp-edged, and nearly as painful now as the old heartaches. The warnings her mother had given her had calloused several times over.
Kim had thought long and hard about this since her mother’s death. What she had needed was a little more leeway to get used to the fact that with her mother gone, she could embrace change without angering or hurting anyone else. Still, did that entail capitulating on the Christmas issue so soon? Was she ready for that, when this particular holiday had played such a negative role in her life?
Brenda hurried on. “If you don’t want to tell Monroe the truth, you have about an hour to formulate a reason he’ll accept in lieu of the truth. Fabricating illusions is what we do on a daily basis, right? We make people want to buy things.”
After letting a beat of time go by for that to sink in, Brenda spoke again. “Call me selfish, Kim, but I’d like to keep you here and happy, and so would a whole host of other people. I doubt if the new guy would actually fire you, anyway. He’d have no real reason to. You can work this out. Also, you could try the truth. Talking about it might be cathartic.”
Kim shook her head. Brenda hadn’t witnessed Monroe’s show of personalized aggression in his office doorway. Monroe had used the physical card to get her to back down, intending to intimidate her with his stockpile of charisma. And it had worked. There was no way she’d talk to a complete stranger about complicated and painful personal details and have him laugh them off as childish. Or worse, have him wave them away as being inconsequential.
“If the truth is still too painful, maybe you can spin the issue another way.” Brenda snorted delicately. “You could tell Monroe that you have a Santa fetish.”
Kim gave her a look.
“You can tell him a therapist explained that your Santa fetish means that you’re looking for a father figure to replace yours, and you’ve attached yourself to a fantasy ideal. So much so, that it’s embarrassing to discuss or work with.”
Kim knew a ploy to lighten the mood when she heard one.
“Bren, you are usually so much better than that.”
“The source of the idea wouldn’t matter, Kim. Mention the word therapist, and Monroe would be afraid of a lawsuit if he were to ever fire you for mental health reasons.”
Brenda had the audacity to giggle, despite the seriousness of the subject matter, because she was on a ludicrous roll. “You secretly long for the person who is supposed to possess magical powers that he uses for good, and this longing makes you crazy at this time of year.”
“Bren, listen to yourself. You’re suggesting that I tell my boss I have a secret hard-on for the guy whose belly shakes like a bowlful of jelly, and reindeer with dorky names.”
“Humor aside, isn’t that what you’re actually waiting for? Haven’t you been searching for a man with the ability to override your background issues by making dull things seem shiny and bright? You’d like to find an honest man who could disprove your mother’s ideas about relationships.”
Kim rubbed her forehead harder. Brenda was right. She did want a man with those quasi-magical qualities. Someone caring, understanding, strong and above all, loyal. She got breathless just thinking about it, and about separating herself from the dark spell her mother had woven.
The problem was, she seemed to only date men who had none of those things to offer. Every one of her companions so far had come up short of ideal. Maybe she’d made her poor choices to subconsciously confirm her mother’s philosophy of relationship instability and injustice. She could see this. It made sense. Honestly though, she did not want to end up alone, and like her mother.
She sagged against the wall. “There’s a fatal flaw in your reasoning, Bren. If I had a desire for Santa Claus and his magic, why would I be opposed to working on Christmas? I’d love Christmas. But you are partly right.”
Kim pressed the hair back from her face and continued. “Secretly, I’ve always wanted to dump the darkness and embrace the holiday celebrations. I’ve wanted that for as long as I can remember. It’s been my secret heartache.”
More to the point, she couldn’t stand anger and blame and insidious hatred, and had missed a good portion of her childhood fantasies because of her mother’s take on those things. The idea of a real Santa Claus had been her one ongoing illicit passion from early on. A dream. A ray of light in the dark world she’d grown up in.
