Page 5 of Under The Meh-stletoe

"I thought you didn't like Christmas either, the way you talked about it last week."

"Anyway." She ignored my comment and sat on the chair next to me. "What did you want to talk about?"

The impulse to insist on an answer pushed through me, but I bit it back.

I glued my eyes to my clipboard. "I called the extended volunteer team and coordinated with the Town’s services. Decoration of Main Street should happen next week as planned."

I would rock this neutrality thing.

"Wonderful." Her tone contradicted her statement. "Would you consider vandalism on the decorations?"

A chuckle wanted to escape me, but I trapped it inside. If I found her funny we might end up connecting, and I wasn't here to connect with any one particular person. I was here to be fucking Switzerland. I'd be casual acquaintances with everyone in equal measure, and no one in particular.

"Any news on the gift giving extravaganza?" I asked.

She shook the foot she kept over her knee, the same little smirk on her lips. "I talked to the school; they’ll have the teachers drop hints. I also talked to the librarians, the post office, and the Town’s community support workers. We should have a bunch of kids sending letters to Santa soon. I’m still organizing the matching of donors with letters."

"What about Santa himself? Have you talked to him yet?"

"Nope. I delegated that task to Janet."

"You… delegated?" A tiny little smile of my own put pressure on my mouth, and I wasn't fast enough to prevent it this time. "It used to be your sister's task."

"Absolutely, and I delegated it. Privileges of the president." She leaned forward to me and, shielding her lips from everyone else's view— their loss, as the shape of her full mouth, close like this— it was charming. She whispered, "It works because it's less Christmas nonsense on my to-do list."

I chuckled. She winked.

"We're kindred spirits on this then." I frowned at my own admittance. This could be a slippery slope. Better cut it short. "But that's not the point."

"The point is I made you laugh!"

"Not the point, and it was a snort at best."

"I consider it my good deed for the season."

"That's really poor marketing for your personal brand. Your good deed should be volunteering for this committee."

No one around us seemed to be paying close attention to Ale's shenanigans. I released a measured gust of air. Everyone continued to organize decorations into piles and chat among themselves. Good.

My future did not include a house on the suburbs or a white picket fence. I wanted a simple life, where people in town liked me enough to drink a beer with me, and then let me go when I'd met my social quota and wanted to go home.

I didn't need to focus on a partner to get community. Relationships were rarely worth the effort, and I was comfortable on my own. Even if a spark spluttered in my gut in response to Ale, I wouldn't fan it.

"In the season of joy, I promise I won't let anybody know that you're capable of chuckling," Ale said.

I don’t know what I showed on my face, but it made her grin. It was a beautiful smile.

I tore my eyes away. "You can go right ahead and tell everyone that I chuckled. I'm known to laugh once in a while. In any case— party planning."

She let me divert our conversation, though that teasing gleam in her eyes remained. I ignored it. If Costa Rica could make away with its military forces because they were so neutral, so damn peaceful, so could I.

Moving to Laguna Island was a critical step in my life plans. Within three years, I hoped to set up a comfortable life in a strong-knit community. Unattached and free. Reconnected to my Latine roots, mostly invisible to me beyond my last name and my parents' ethnicity, and at peace.

When I studied the history of Laguna Island, I learned that over the seventies and eighties, a big wave of immigrants had settled in what then was a mostly abandoned town. A number of these newcomers were refugees from Latin America, and that's when the town had changed its name and embraced a multicultural, melting pot vision.

Soon word spread among immigrants, especially those coming from Central and South America, that this slice of land on the North Pacific coast welcomed people who left their home abroad.

Immigrants found comfort in coming together with people who understood, really understood, what that meant. They made a third culture together. Not fully here, not ever back there, but with each other.