Happily Ever Christmas

“Merry Christmas to you too.” I didn’t mean it. But I had to say it to get my client off the phone. Truthfully, you had to repeat the phrase all of  December. Otherwise, people would swear you were a heartless Scrooge.

“That was the driest Merry Christmas I ever heard,” my coworker Samantha said, twirling a pen between her fingers. “You sounded like a kid who didn’t get anything she wanted under the tree.”

I shook my head, brushing off her observation. “I didn’t think they’d ever stop talking about their Christmas plans, and let us actually work.”

My laptop dinged, alerting me that only 15% of the battery remained. Funny, that’s about how much energy I felt like I had left.  

What was supposed to be a 30-minute call recapping the product launch event for our client, Thin Quick, had turned into a two-hour discussion.

Samantha and I huddled in the comfy crème leather chairs in the sitting area of my office. Light poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows shining a natural spotlight on the sticky notes and stacks of file folders covering the round table between us. 

I promise there was a method to our messy madness. Corporations like Thin Quick turned to our PR firm to bring their products and brands to life. The fancy word we used to describe these services was experiential marketing, but it all boiled down to coordinating big events that attracted a lot of attention, positive press, and sales. 

“Did you send over the media report from the L.A. event?” I asked. 

“Yes, I shared a spreadsheet with the entire team,” Samantha said. “I also pulled together a recap of all the social media posts. The new shake was the #1 trending topic on Twitter.”

We were halfway through the checklist of to-dos I had jotted down in my planner when the phone lit up red.

I picked up on the second ring. “This is Ebony.”

“It’s Kim. I have your sister Alexis on Line 1. She says it’s an emergency.” 

I could only imagine what my drama queen sister-in-law Alexis wanted. Something was always going on with my older brother Manny and his wife. 

Nine-times out of 10, their problem was financial. I’d set up a special checking account for them to keep these ‘emergency calls’ to a minimum.

“Tell her I’ll call her back after my meeting.” I pressed the speakerphone button OFF to return to my discussion with Samantha. 

“I want to make sure Paula is looped in on the Thin Quick campaign. She needs to know we were able to get great results and come in way under budget.” 

With everyone resolving to lose a few pounds, the New Year was the biggest marketing period for our largest client Thin Quick, a low-fat, high-protein line of meals and drinks. The firm Managing Director, Paula, had all but promised to bump me up to my dream job of Senior Vice President if we pulled off a flawless campaign. 

Finally, all of the 14-hour days, restless nights, traveling last minute from city-to-city would pay off! 

“I’ll forward the latest reports to her.” Samantha scribbled notes on her legal pad. “Are we moving forward with Lourdés as our celebrity spokesperson for the New York event?” 

“Her people sent over the signed contract this morning and she’s already posting on Instagram.”

Known more for her sexy selfies, swimsuit photo shoots, and Hollywood romances than hit songs, Lourdés Michele was the ‘it’ celebrity of the moment. I’d negotiated a deal that made her the new face of Thin Quick.

“We may have to prep her for media interviews, but she loves the camera. And it loves her right back. Usually, TV makes you look bigger, but she is perfect on-screen.”

I typed and talked fast, pausing to chomp off half a cinnamon-raisin bagel. Even though it approached 2:30, I hadn’t finished breakfast yet. Bitter and black coffee wasn’t ideal at room temperature, but I gulped down the much-needed caffeine anyway. 

“She’s almost too good to be true.” Samantha’s chair squished as she shifted, crossing her legs. “I can see why Thin Quick wanted her as a spokesperson. I think their customers wish they had a body like hers, but does this approach feel a little too perfect?”

“There’s no such thing as too perfect.” I walked over to my desk, sorting through documents until I found a paper-clipped stack of images. “We have to sell people on what they think they want. Even if it’s unrealistic.”

“I know I’d buy a truckload of Thin Quick meals if I believed they could make me look like Lourdés,” Samantha muttered.

“Exactly! So, if you can update the video promos with her by the end of the day, I’ll have time to review before we get final approvals from the client.”

I flipped through the visuals showcasing before and after images of real Thin Quick customers. Short, tall. Pear-shaped. Narrow as a 2×4 beam. A cross-section of ethnicities and ages. All of these women had stories, either wanting to lose or gain a few pounds. Some battled weight challenges since childhood and others faced health crises that nearly stole their lives. They overcame incredible odds, not to be skinny, but to be healthier and happier. 

I pressed sticky notes onto the testimonies that tugged at the heartstrings and handed them to Samantha. “I want these ladies featured on the website.”

My computer chimed at the arrival of a new message at the same time my cell phone buzzed. Alexis’ picture popped up on the screen—it was a photo of her playing air guitar in front of the Elvis statue in Memphis. I ignored the call to pull up my e-mail inbox.

Click. 

Scroll.

Delete. 

Happy Holiday e-mails crowded out important messages from clients and staff. I wished I could automatically send the end of year notes to the trash. Scratch that, I wished I could toss the whole of December and return to business as usual.

“We discussed quite a few changes to the plan and direction. You want all of the videos updated today?” Samantha asked. 

“That would be perfect!”

Samantha scooted to the edge of the chair, laptop wobbling on her knees. 

“I was hoping to leave a little early, so I could make the office Christmas party.” Her voice was as strained as the smile plastered on her face.

Having worked with Samantha for over six years, I noticed she did this thing when she didn’t agree with someone, stretching out the end of words into a sing-song. It reminded me of how moms talked to their children when they refused to share or let some other kid slide first.

“If you’ve been to one office Christmas party, haven’t you been to them all?” I asked, shrugging.

“Well, I won’t be able to stay long, because I have to catch a flight home for the holidays.” 

“You’re taking off this early?” I paused to look at the calendar, counting the time left before Christmas with the oval tip of my nude-colored pinky nail – 12 days.

“My entire family is in California. It’s the only time of year we’re together,” Samantha said. 

“I get that Christmas is a big deal, but that leaves us with only a couple weeks to nail down logistics before the January event.”

I said I understood the hype around the holidays, but I honestly didn’t get folks taking off the last few weeks of the year. 

Do you really need that much vacation time? 

There was a part of me that liked having the office to myself. I was way more productive without the noise, banter about the weekend, interruptions, and distractions of other people. 

Last year, I nibbled on leftover holiday client gifts—Harry and David sweets, an Edible Arrangements fruit bouquet, good cheese, and roasted Virginia peanuts. I hosted a cocktail party of one. And the work got done. That’s all I asked of Samantha, that we complete our work with excellence.

“You should be able to knock out these changes quickly. Besides, they still have wi-fi on planes, right?” I asked with a chuckle.

“Of course.” Samantha forced a smile so tight and wide, it had to hurt. “Oh, before I forget. Here’s your gift. Merry Christmas.”

She dropped it in a thud on my desk. I imagined it was a candle or maybe another mug with some inspirational saying scrawled across the front. The gift bag matched Samantha’s atrocious sweater dress. Wooly and bright red, it featured every Christmas symbol imaginable. Santa’s jolly, pink-cheeked face. Candy canes and gingerbread men. Golden lights ringed around her curvy frame. I believe I spotted the three wise men walking on her shoulder. 

Samantha’s get-up was part of the office’s “Ugly Christmas Sweater Party.” I had thrown on my usual costume of black pants, white button-down, and a gray cardigan, opting out of all the ‘fun’ to meet Thin Quick’s deadlines.

“Do you need anything else before I’m out of pocket?”

“I think that will be all. If I need anything, I’ll send you a quick e-mail.”

“Ebony, I’m not checking e-mail over Christmas. Everybody will be out of the office, including our client.”

Was that a dig at the fact that I would likely be the only person toiling away with budget worksheets and tinkering with venue layouts instead of sipping eggnog and unwrapping gifts?

Before I could react, our receptionist Kim poked her head in. 

“I’m so sorry to interrupt your meeting, but it’s your sister. Again. She threatened to,” Kim paused to look at the note she’d written, pushing her glasses to the tip of her nose. “In her words, ‘come up here and get you her-doggone-self,’ if I didn’t put her through.”

Like I said, drama queen. 

“Sure, send the call through,” I sighed, holding a finger up to Samantha. “This should only take a moment.”

I picked up the phone before it finished the first ring.

“Alexis, what —” 

“Manny’s in the hospital.” She dropped the news in a breathless cry. “He’s in the emergency room right now. The ambulance came and picked him up. One minute he was up on the ladder, then the next—” 

“Wait, what? Slow down.” I rose and turned my back to Samantha, feeling more in control of the situation standing up. Besides I didn’t want anybody seeing me like this. 

My corner office filled with gold-trimmed walls bearing framed pictures of client events across the world and its expansive view of downtown Atlanta normally stirred a sense of confidence within. At this moment, those walls closed in on me. The sparkling clean glass reflected the visage of a fearful girl instead of my face. The coldness from outside emanated from the thick window, but all I felt was heat, burning from my toes up.

Worry I hadn’t met in a long time filled my eyes. And my lips quivered at the words coming through the handset. 

“…maybe a heart attack, but I’ve been at the hospital for over an hour now, and they won’t tell me nothing. You need to come home, Ebony. Just in case…” 

My sister-in-law’s frantic voice sounded eerily like the one I’d heard deliver the worst news of my life 15 years ago. Alexis became a muffled sound far away, the steady pounding of my heart filling my ears. 

A heart attack at his age? My brother wasn’t even 40 years old yet. This isn’t fair.

As if it would hold me together, I hugged my chest, the silver and gold charms on my bracelet jingling.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Samantha eked out, startling me from both past and present tragedies.  

I couldn’t fight any longer. The warm tears streamed down my cheeks. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see that girl anymore, praying for her to go away.

“No. No, it’s not. I have to go home.”