Happy Merry Everything (Charlie Barber)

Twas the Night Before Christmas

It was Christmas Eve. You had just flown home to spend the week celebrating with your family. You hadn't even been back for a full 24 hours, but you found yourself longing to be back in New York. It wasn't that the company was terrible or that you weren't fond of being in your old room. There was just something about New York that you couldn't even begin to describe and... for all of its sights, sounds, and even smells—albeit at times less than wonderful, there was something about being there that added to the quintessence of life.

You sat down on your bed and picked up the old alarm clock on your nightstand. "1:30am". By now, everyone else was sleep. Some slept soundly, their excitement for presents growing as hours passed. Others in their spiked eggnog haze were happy to have made it to beds in their blissful drunken stupors.

You put in your airpods and picked up your phone, opening Spotify. After scrolling for a bit, you settled on a Christmas jazz playlist, let yourself sink back onto your pillow, and closed your eyes. Just as the music was beginning to lull you to sleep, your phone let out the familiar DING! of a text. Your fingers haphazardly began feeling for your phone on top of the covers. "Who could be texting me at this hour?" you muttered. The number on your screen was foreign to you, but the 212 area code was familiar.

The text wasn't what you would typically expect from a random number. No unsolicited pictures or "you up?" Instead, it contained a link to Barnes and Noble.

Text: Here's the poetry book I was talking about from before. You should check it out. I think you'd really enjoy it.

You clicked the link out of curiosity, which was something you'd usually never do-- especially considering all of those text scams as of late--but something in your gut said, "go ahead". To your surprise, it was legitimate and you found yourself looking at a book of poetry. It was at that moment, for whatever reason, you felt compelled to text back.

You: As much as I love poetry, I'm afraid you have the wrong number. Thanks for the accidental recommendation all the same. :)

You set your phone down next to you and made a face. You'd usually let wrong numbers figure things out on their own. Casually, you'd delete the occasional text from someone you never knew or someone you wished to forget that you probably met one night in a bar. Either way, you still don't know why you did it.

"Tis the season, I guess," you said to yourself softly.

Much to your surprise, your phone chimed a second time. It was the holiday stranger returning your message. You had anticipated a "Whoops. My bad." Or something along those lines, but that wasn't the case.

Text: Well, in that case, happy to help. Sorry if I disturbed you by the way. I feel bad for texting the wrong person so late.

Making yourself more comfortable, you sat with your legs criss-crossed in front of you as you typed back.

You: No worries at all. You didn't bother me. I was wide awake.

SEND.

Seconds later. Another text.

Text: Wide awake? Don't you know Santa doesn't stop at houses where everyone isn't asleep? It's too risky. ;)

You laughed.

You: I like to think I'm on pretty good terms with Old Saint Nick...so I'm not worried.
Text: Is that so?
You: I also happen to be kind of amazing when it comes to baking Christmas cookies so that helps.
Text: And the reindeer? Are they as taken care of as the man with the bag?

You could feel a smile creeping onto your face as typed up your reply. "Who is this person?", you thought.

You: Oh, it's a full spread. Oats, crudités, the works. What kind of hostess would I be if I didn't make accommodations for his little helpers?
Text: Aren't the elves his 'little helpers'?
You: I mean, maybe, but they aren't the ones pulling the sleigh all the way around the world.
Text: Good point.
You: Besides, the role of Mrs. Claus has been filled so I do what I can during the holidays.
Text: Have you always loved the cold?
You: What do you mean?

By now, you were on your stomach with your feet crossed in the air behind you.

Text: Well, if you were going to be second in command at the North Pole, you'd have to love the cold, wouldn't you?
You: That wouldn't be hard. When I'm not with family, I live in New York.
Text: Are you sure this is the wrong number?
You: Your number isn't in my phone so unless you captained a passing ship in the night...
Text: Not likely.

You weren't sure how to respond. You laid pensively in the quiet.

Text: And you're sure I'm not keeping you from, oh I don't know, a full night of sleep?
You: I'm sure. Besides, I've got insomnia to keep me warm. That is...unless that was your way of trying to make a graceful exit.
Text: You'd know. The texts would just stop. Off I'd go, silently into the night.
You: Kind of like Santa?
Text: Exactly.
You: ...is this Santa?

"Why the fuck am I flirting with a stranger?" You pondered aloud.

Text: Why do you think I'm trying to get you to sleep? You're holding up my progress.

You rolled your eyes.

You: My sincerest apologies, Mr. Claus. Just let me settle in for a long winter's nap.

Your phone was silent for a good five minutes. "Guess I've finally scared them off."

After what felt like an eternity, your phone chimed again.

Text: Truthfully, I should tuck in for the night myself.

You couldn't help the sadness you felt for exchange coming to an end, but just like calls from wrong numbers, they were often brief.

You: I understand. For what it's worth, it's been wonderful chatting with you.
Text: Likewise.
Text: Say...Mrs. Claus?
You: Hmm?
Text: Would it be completely off color for me to ask your name?

You hesitated for a moment and texted back.

Text: Nice to 'meet' you. I'm Charlie.

A yawn trying to escaped your lips as you noticed the time: 3:15am. You had been texting a perfect stranger for over an hour, but you supposed you in some strange way weren't strangers anymore. He was simply Charlie: Someone who was surprisingly witty given the late hours of the night and had exceptional taste in poetry.

Text: I'm off. May sugarplums dance in your head.
You: Night :)

You placed your phone beside you, crawled underneath the covers, and did your best to get comfortable. Morning would come all too early. Knowing your family, you'd smell coffee brewing by 7:30 and breakfast cooking by 8. With any luck, you'd fall asleep in no time, but before you did—you couldn't help but wonder if this happened interaction was an early gift in itself. As you settled in, you hoped this first encounter wouldn't be your last. And with that—you closed your eyes and fell fast asleep.