Xmas at Xenia

Homecoming

The second I step off the plane, my stress melts away into the bright winter sunlight. No longer plagued by oppressive humidity, my lungs expand to full capacity as I breathe in the crackling desert air. For the first time in too long, my heart has room to settle. Once I stride across the tarmac and enter the airport, I make my way toward the exit and my new beginning.

Before I have even passed through the security gate I hear my two best friends, belting out “For Good” from Wicked.

“If you two went and saw the movie without me, I swear to God…”

“‘Dora!!” they both screech in unison, and then tackle me in a three-sided bear hug.

“Although technically, you forfeited any rights to movie-watching privileges when you moved away to Texas of all places.” Devon admonishes me, though the glistening of his dark brown eyes gives him away.

“Dev,” Sienna nudges him gently. “She’s back, that’s all that matters.”

“I missed you both so much.” My voice breaks as they hug me again, and my eyes are wet with the realization that it’s official now: I’m home.

“Okay can we talk about your hair for a minute?” I ask Devon. His characteristic afro has been trimmed into a high-top fade.

“The nineties are back, baby!”

“The Fresh Prince will be ecstatic,” I smile at him. “But between us, you pull it off way better.”

“Don’t tell Will Smith that!” Sienna chimes in. “Lest we forget ‘the slap heard round the world’”.

“Oh man, I can’t believe it’s been that long since we all hate-watched the Oscars together.”

“I can,” Devon mumbles.

I sigh and fall silent. He’s not going to forgive me easily for leaving. We collect my luggage from the carousel and, in an attempt to mask the awkwardness, I pepper them with questions the entire time. “What have you guys been up to? Tell me everything!”

“Well this one’s been promoted to manager at the Bathhouse Spa!” Sienna shakes Devon by the shoulders, her amber eyes shining with pride.

“Dev, that's awesome! Congrats.” I beam at him while I grasp the handles of my suitcases. “That means you can throw me a friends-and-family discount, right?”

“Um, you’re still on probation Pandora.” He emphasizes my full first name like I’m a child being scolded.

“Come on, I could really use a massage! Please?”

“I’ll see what I can do if- and only if- you promise to never leave again.” Devon crosses his arms, dark eyes flashing.

“He’s serious, isn’t he?” I mutter to Sienna. She tosses her long auburn hair over her shoulder and fixes me with her signature piercing glare, complete with hands on her hips for emphasis.

“How can we be sure you won’t go jetting off to… I don’t know, Australia, the next time a pretty face smiles at you?”

“Excuse me, Australia is on the other side of the planet. Texas is just the next state over.”

“That is so not the point!”

“I’m well aware that I royally fucked up, okay?” I snap at them, my exhaustion getting the better of me. Both of their expressions soften, and they each link one of their arms through mine as we make our way out to the parking structure.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you.”

“Yeah, everyone fucks up at least once.”

I lean into them, sagging with relief. “You guys really are the best.”

“Don’t you ever forget it!”

“Never,” I assure them. “I promise.” I look at Devon to make sure he knows this promise is the one he was asking for. He still doesn’t look convinced, but he manages a half-smile. I take it as a good sign.

“Now, on to more important things,” I glance sideways at each of them with a mischievous grin. “Are the two of you still dating the same guy?”

“Oh, Matteo!” Sienna sighs dramatically. “That beautiful, beautiful man.”

“He went back to Barcelona last month.”

“I still don’t think I understand how that whole arrangement worked.”

“Best friends can share,” Sienna winks at me.

“As long as everyone involved is upfront and on board,” Devon adds.

“And Matteo definitely was up…front!”

The three of us dissolve into cackles, startling nearby pedestrians, which just makes us laugh harder. We throw my bags into the back of Devon’s white 4Runner and pile in. The debate about who gives the best blow jobs fades into the background while I stare out the window. My gaze traces the familiar outline of the Sandia Mountains as we merge onto I-25 North into Albuquerque. The drive to my moms’ house is over too soon.

“Thanks so much for picking me up,” I’m on the verge of tears for the third time tonight as I gather my belongings and give them each one last hug. “Love you guys!”

“Love you too!”

“Don’t forget, coffee and biscochitos first thing tomorrow morning!”

“I’ll be there.” We all keep waving until the 4Runner is out of sight, and maybe even a few seconds after that.

Walking up the gravel path to my childhood home feels surreal, like this place hasn’t changed one bit in the two years I’ve been gone. The long, low adobe home is already festooned with flickering paper bag luminarias, despite the fact that Christmas is still two weeks away. I know they set them up tonight just for me, and my heart swells. I hear the horses, goats and donkey milling about in their corral, and the light scent of hay and dust mingles pleasantly with the brisk evening air. My key slides into the lock without protest, and I enter to the smell of baking bread.

“Mama! Momzy!” I call out. “Where are you guys?”

“Panda-bear!” Mama pops out of the kitchen, wearing the matching unicorn-themed apron and oven mitts I bought her last year. “Welcome home, Honey!” She wraps me in her arms and I breathe in the comfort of home. “Are you hungry now? I have spaghetti pie and garlic bread.”

“Absolutely,” I grin. “Is Momzy home?”

“She’s here, but she’s down right now, Honey. Let her get some rest and hopefully she’ll be up and about by tomorrow.” Mama kisses the top of my head and starts serving up large helpings of spaghetti pie for each of us. I watch her, keeping herself busy to stave off the worry, and the warmth in my heart starts to chill. I’ve been gone too long.

After dinner, we sit together by the fireplace sipping hot cider with cinnamon and sharing a plate of her famous peanut butter cookies. She sees the concern etched in my face and squeezes my knee.

“Your mom’s fine, I promise. You know how she has her ups and downs.”

“But is she still taking her meds? I thought they were helping.”

“Her doctor says it might take her a while to adjust to the new dosage,” Mama sighs heavily. “Let’s talk about you. How are you doing?”

I let her obvious deflection slide. “I’m glad to be home.”

“And it’s officially over between you and Alejandra?”

“Yes Mama, it’s truly over. For good this time.” My head is starting to pound, and I press my fingertips into my temples.

“Okay then.” She stands up and collects our dishes.

“I can do that,” I protest a bit half-heartedly.

“No worries, Love. You just go ahead and get settled in your room.” She gives me another hug and a kiss on my cheek. “You need a good night’s rest after a long day. And tomorrow, I got you a job!”

“You…what?”

“A job, silly. Won’t you be needing one?”

“Well, yeah, but…how? Where?”

“At the café that hosts my sunrise yoga class. They needed a new barista so I told them all about you!”

“Barista? Mama, I have a college degree.”

“It doesn’t have to be a career, you know. Just something to get you back on your feet.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just tired and grumpy.” I insist on doing the dishes now, and by the time I’ve washed and she’s dried and put them away the tension between us has evaporated.

“Sleep tight, Panda. I love you.”

“Love you too, Mama. And thanks, for everything.”

That night I curl up in my childhood bed, feeling warm and safe and listening to the cottonwood trees creaking. I was right about one thing today: it feels really good to be home.

First Day

I wake up in pitch darkness. My brain must still be on Texas time. I wander to the kitchen in search of coffee and find some recently brewed in the pour-over carafe. I inhale the delicious aroma as I watch the creamer swirling into the dark liquid. Maybe being a barista won’t be the worst thing after all. After shrugging a jacket on over my PJs, I head out back with my hands wrapped around the warm mug. It tastes just as good as it smells.

The Sandia Mountains are haloed by the golden glow of the sun rising behind them, giving just enough light for me to find my way down the familiar flagstone path. Mama’s in the barn feeding my ancient Thoroughbred gelding, Gandalf the Gray. His bucket is full of soaked beet pulp, senior grain, and alfalfa pellets. He slurps it up eagerly, his face becoming covered in the multicolored mash.

“Hey old man,” I greet him softly, and Mama hugs me good morning. Gandalf ignores me in favor of his meal, and I stroke his sleek neck while he eats. Even in the cold months he never grows much of a winter coat. By contrast, Gimli, our red roan pony, stands at about half his height with twice the fluff. He immediately starts nosing into my pockets looking for treats, and I have to push him off of me. Then I relent and give him a full-body scratching to apologize for my rudeness.

Suddenly a loud banging shakes the barn, and the back door swings open violently. In a flurry of clattering hooves mixed with insistent bleating and braying, we are overtaken by a stampede of five goats and one donkey. They all clamor for a taste of forbidden horse feed, the goats jumping on top of one another and even up to the back of Legolas the donkey. Mama has to wrestle the bucket away from Gandalf before the horde descends, and they chase her almost to the top of the stack of hay bales. As quickly as I can, I grab a scoop of alfalfa pellets and shake it loudly. The distraction works, and now I have become the focus of all their attention. I sprinkle the pellets onto the ground little by little, leading them back out the door and securing it behind them. By the time I rejoin Mama we are both laughing so hard we have tears streaming down our cheeks.

“I think they missed you!” Mama wipes at her eyes. “They haven't pulled crap like that in forever.”

“I’ve missed them too. Especially this big guy.” I rub circles on Gandalf’s forehead and his eyes half-close as he leans into the pressure. Then his bucket is returned to him and he dives back in, one front hoof lifting up off the ground as he savors it. Once he has made sure to clean every last tidbit from the bottom, I lead him out to the corral to join the herd munching on their pile of hay, recent transgressions already forgotten. Gimli trots along behind us, his tiny hooves tap-tapping on the concrete aisle.

I help break the thin layer of ice off the top of the water trough, then we head back inside. My coffee is long gone by now and my fingers are beginning to feel the sting of the cold.

“Remember your gloves next time, Hun.” Mama reminds me like she can read my mind.

“Yeah, yeah.” I mutter, almost rolling my eyes like I’m a teenager again. Then I marvel at how quickly we settle back into old routines. I could almost pretend that the last two years never even happened. Almost.

“You better start getting ready, we leave in an hour.”

“But it’s barely seven a.m.!”

“That’s right, and your interview’s at eight.”

I groan dramatically and stomp off to shower. Why couldn’t she have found me a job that starts at a more decorous hour? After drying my bright magenta hair, I part it down the middle and comb the long pieces down over my undercut. I’m not sure how conservative I’m supposed to look for this interview, so I twist it into a bun at the nape of my neck. But if their dress code has a policy against dyed hair and tattoos it’s going to be a non-starter.

By the time I’m ready to leave, my annoyance is replaced by curiosity. The coffee has kicked in, the sun is up and I’m interested to see this place Mama has told me so much about. She’s been teaching yoga there for a while now and seems to love it. They do sunrise yoga on the rooftop during the mild months and inside when it's too cold.

Her bright red Dodge truck has seen better days, but it roars to life the same way it always has. We head out of the rural village of Corrales and into the Albuquerque metro area. It’s a Monday morning, so traffic is stop-and-go the entire drive. I can feel my claustrophobia rearing up while we sit in the gridlock, and turn up the stereo to distract myself.

As usual, Mama’s listening to a Tegan and Sara CD. I’m pretty sure they are the only musicians she’s ever heard of, despite my years of trying to broaden her listening horizons. If it weren’t for Momzy, I would have probably grown up thinking they were the only musicians in the world, too.

“How bad is Momzy, really?” I ask Mama without looking at her.

“We just need to find her the right medication, that’s all.” Mama assures me. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, Hun.”

I sigh and stare out the window. I hate when she feels like she has to keep the truth from me. I’m still part of this family, aren’t I?

Finally our destination is in sight. The building is shaped like a Mayan pyramid, each square level smaller than the one below it. The bottom level is the largest, and its sign reads The Bathhouse Spa. My frown deepens. I had no idea that Devon worked in the same building as Mama. Was everyone keeping things from me now? The roof is dominated by 20-foot lettering that reads Xenia, and in smaller letters beneath it Be Our Guest.

We enter into a nice foyer, with a comfy-looking seating area and zero sterile vibes. On one side of the room is an elevator, with a staircase on the other. A plaque in the center wall reads “Hello honored guest-friends! Xenia, the ancient custom of hospitality, means all are welcome here. No matter who you are, or who you love, you deserve a community that celebrates everything unique about you. Thank you for joining us, and we hope your visit will exceed your expectations.” I suddenly find myself wondering if my best friend and my mom have both joined a cult.

When we step inside the elevator, the buttons are clearly labeled with the name of the establishment located on each level. Mama presses the one for Clouds In My Coffee Rooftop Cafe. I send a quick text to Sienna and Devon as we ride up to let them know where to meet me for coffee in an hour. I can’t wait to see the look on Dev’s face when he finds out I’ll be working here, too. Maybe.

The elevator opens inside the tiny café. To my right, a long counter separates the square building in half. Through the windows on the left I see an outdoor seating area. The middle-aged man behind the counter looks up from his magazine as we approach.

“Janae!” He greets Mama with a bright smile. “Right on time. This must be Pandora?” He extends a hand toward me and I shake it confidently. I can do this.

“Nice to meet you,” I smile back at him with eye contact. Mama sneaks back to the elevator with a little triumphant wave.

“I’m Eric, the manager of this tiny empire. Shall we have a seat?” He leads me outside, where many tables are arranged around the cafe beneath draped shade structures that look like clouds. “I took a look at your resume, it’s quite impressive. What made you decide to pursue a bachelor of science in hotel and restaurant management?”

And we’re off. I tell him about my college classes, my extracurriculars and my work experience. He nods and smiles at all the right moments. It’s actually going pretty well. Then he drops one more question.

“You clearly have strong leadership skills. So, why do you want to be a barista?”

I gulp, completely knocked off-balance by his directness. I don’t want to be a barista. I’ve never wanted to be a barista. “I broke up with my girlfriend for the third and final time, left everything behind and moved back in with my parents.” I hear the words escape my lips in a rush of blunt honesty. Then the panic hits me. What did I just do?

Eric looks as stunned as I feel, and then his smile returns even brighter than before. “Oh girl, we’ve all been there!” He laughs heartily, and relief floods my veins. “You’re hired.” He shakes my hand again and I start grinning like an idiot. I hadn’t necessarily wanted the job when I first walked in here, but now I’m practically floating on air. He hands me a stack of HR paperwork to read and sign, and as I’m finishing up he returns with a freshly printed name tag for me.

“Your first shift starts now.” Eric hands me the name tag along with an apron, and suddenly I’m back down on Earth.

“Now?” I squeak, then clear my throat. “I mean yeah, yes, I’m ready to start now.”

I pull the apron on over my neck and tie the belt at my back, wishing I had worn better shoes. Back inside, Eric pops one side of the counter up to let me into the back work area. The tour of the work space takes all of five minutes. The back wall houses the coffee maker, espresso machine, refrigerator, and many bottles of flavoring. The counter features a register in the middle and a pastry case on the end near the elevator.

He starts giving me a run-through of all the different drinks and how to make them. When a customer comes in, I watch him ring them up on the register. It all seems pretty straightforward. After about an hour, I finally think about checking my phone.

I have about ten texts from Sienna and Devon, and as I scroll through my heart sinks. When I told them to meet me here for coffee and biscochitos, I had no idea I would be starting right away. I had hoped to surprise them with the news, maybe draw out the suspense for at least a little while. But all my grand plans disappear when the elevator dings and I find myself face-to-face with both of them as they gape at me across the counter.

Coffee and Biscochitos

“Um, what’s with the apron, Mary Berry?” Sienna looks at me like I have lobsters crawling out of my ears.

“Surprise?” I shrug.

“Are you…working here? You don’t even know how to boil water,” Devon points out.

“Come on, how hard can it be?”

My two friends exchange a glance.

“Watch this.” I clear my throat and pull up my best customer-service voice. “Welcome to Clouds In My Coffee, how may I help you?”

They grin at each other, and my confidence fades. I brace myself as Sienna takes a big breath.

“Large quad vanilla latte with caramel drizzle inside the cup, two shots on bottom, two on top, extra hot almond milk, no whip, and add a dash of cinnamon.”

I blink at her slowly while my brain attempts to process words, and Sienna looks up at my discomfiture like it’s already Christmas morning.

“Anything for you, sir?” I turn toward Devon.

“Just a doppio with a dollop for me, thanks.”

“You both suck,” I grumble at them as I turn around to survey the large espresso machine and many bottles of flavoring behind me.

“Hey guys!” Eric greets them with a familiar smile as he appears from the storage room. “The usual today?”

“You know it,” they both give him a fistbump while I look on in astonishment. My friends know my new boss? They have a ‘usual’? Before I can comment, Eric walks me through each step of making their drinks. Turns out it can be pretty difficult.

“One Sienna Special, and one Devonair.” Eric hands them their cups and they each take a sip. They even have drinks named after them. What is my life right now?

“Don’t worry Pandora, you’ll get the hang of this quickly enough,” Eric reassures me, and we return to the lesson. “The espresso machine’s a little temperamental, we call her La Spaz. But if you handle her gently you’ll get along just fine.” He proceeds to show me how to brew a shot of espresso and steam some milk. About halfway through, I hear Devon’s voice behind me again.

“Pardon me, miss?” he asks in his most atrocious attempt at a British accent. “I do believe we were promised biscochitos?”

I roll my eyes at him, fighting back a smile. The cookies have just come out of the oven, and the cinnamon sugar smells incredible. My stomach growls loudly, and I realize I haven’t eaten anything yet this morning. Eric laughs and tells me to take my fifteen, so I pull off the apron and go out to join my friends, plate of biscochitos in hand.

“Finally!” Sienna exclaims, shoveling one into her mouth immediately. I take a bite out of mine and let the buttery goodness melt on my tongue. Eric used just enough anise to cut the sugar without leaving that black licorice aftertaste. “Cheers, queers!”

We tap our paper cups together in the center of the table, and I take a deep pull from the mocha I prepared for myself. It tastes like burnt milk, and my friends bust up laughing at the face I must be making.

“Is this a terrible idea?” I ask them. “Working here, I mean.”

“No way, Eric’s the best,” Sienna insists. “I didn’t even know he was hiring, you totally lucked out.”

“Lucked out? My relationship failed, I came crawling back home, and my own mother had to get me a job.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Devon squeezes my hand. “Everyone struggles sometimes. This is just the first time for you.”

“Ugh, you’re right.” I take a deep breath. “Where have you been all my life?”

“Right here waiting for you,” he answers, and I know what’s coming before it happens. The two of them break out into their own rendition of ‘Right Here Waiting’.

“God, you guys are gonna get me fired before I even finish my first shift.”

“Give this place a chance. It’s pretty awesome here.”

“Oh no, not you too.” I take her by the shoulders. “Sienna, don’t drink the kool-aid!” Then I turn back to Devon. “And when were you planning to tell me that you and my mother have joined a cult?”

“It’s a queer collective, I’ll have you know.”

“Same difference.”

“Haven’t you ever wished we had a space to call our own? Not just during pride, but all the time?”

“Well yeah, of course.”

“That’s what this place is.” Devon leans back in his chair, sipping his espresso. I take a moment to look around- really look- and I start to notice things I had missed before. The two men at the table next to us are holding hands and sharing a pastry. Across the way, a family of three adults and two children are getting situated in their chairs. Seated at another table are four women all wearing matching jackets that read Lesbian+Earth.

“I’ve coordinated more events here this year than anywhere else in town,” Sienna adds. “I even had to hire an assistant. There’s a huge demand for queer-friendly venue spaces.

“So you’re telling me this is some kind of queer mecca?”

“Minus the cultural insensitivity, yeah, that’s the idea.” Devon nods.

“Come with us to the holiday party tomorrow night. You’ll see what we’re talking about.” Sienna raises her eyebrows at me in a hopeful expression.

“If I survive my first day, I’ll be there.” I walk with them back inside and hug them both goodbye. Being with my friends today felt off somehow. I wanted everything to be the way it was before I left. Instead, it all looks exactly the same and yet feels vastly different at the same time. Like I’ve entered some kind of parallel universe or something.

I dump my mostly-full mocha down the sink, wash my hands, and pull my apron back on. It’s hard to not feel like a complete failure at life. Devon is managing the spa downstairs, Sienna is a full-time event coordinator, and I’m serving them poorly-made lattes. I shake my head, willing myself to snap out of this funk. Then I roll my shoulders and return to the counter with my head held high. Time to get acquainted with La Spaz.

Party of the Season

I haven’t even unpacked yet, and here I am rummaging through suitcases looking for something to wear to a party. I check my phone to see if Sienna or Devon have answered any of my trillion questions about tonight. No replies yet. I throw one outfit after another onto the discard pile until my bed and most of the floor are covered in cast-offs. I have no idea if this is a cocktail party, a work party, or maybe an ugly sweater party. I’m good at going all-out when I know what the theme is, but not having any info throws me off in a big way.

Then I reach the bottom of my overstuffed suitcase, and there it is: the sweatshirt Alejandra lent me the first night we spent together. It still smells like her as I reach for it, not wanting to touch it but unable to just leave it there. I pick up my phone to ask Sienna what I should do, but all the unread messages are staring back at me, and I decide against it. Using the very tips of my fingers, I snatch up the shirt as quickly as possible and hurtle it into the trash can hard enough to knock it over. My fingertips tingle like they’ve been burned as I stomp into my bathroom, breathing hard.

I text Sienna and Dev one more time, ready to cancel on the entire party idea. The radio silence continues, and I’m now convinced they’re doing this to punish me. Angry tears sting my eyes. My friends hate me, Momzy’s bipolar might be getting worse, and Mama is lying to me about it. Maybe I should never have come home at all. Maybe I can go somewhere new, start over with a clean slate. But the thought of leaving hurts even more than seeing the sweatshirt. Leaving was what got me into this mess to begin with. It’s time to own up.

Brimming with determination, I stare at my face in the bathroom mirror. My pale cheeks are reddened by all the emotions roiling inside me. I pat them with a wet cloth to try and calm them down. My turquoise eyes shine brightly in the fluorescent light. Mama calls them my sea-glass eyes, though we live about as far away from the ocean as you can get.

As I pull my long magenta hair up into a high pony, the violet undertones catch the light. That’s my favorite part about this particular hair color, and why I’ve kept it longer than any of the others I’ve tried over the years. With the sides and back exposed, anyone can clearly see the words I had shaved into my undercut the day I left Texas: Fuck You Ale. I briefly consider reinforcing the letters with my razor, but decide against it and shape them into something looking like snowflakes instead. If I’m doing this holiday party, I’m doing it all the way. Friends or no friends, I’m going out tonight.

Returning to my bedroom, I find an outfit that I think will work. It’s a black bodycon dress with three-quarter sleeves. I grab a sparkly white belt to bring in case it’s a winter wonderland theme, and throw a pair of silver heels in my bag before pulling on my faux suede knee-high boots.

The wind has picked up, and whips my hair around as I hurry to Mama’s truck. Once again I think about bailing, but then I picture my friends’ faces when I show up in spite of everything. And truthfully, I’m curious about this queer cult- I mean, collective. I definitely have to check it out for myself.

The parking lot is jam-packed by the time I arrive. This morning hardly any of the spaces were occupied, and now it might as well be the outside of a Taylor Swift concert. I find a spot across the street and head inside.

The small lobby is full of people milling around. I push my way in, trying to figure out where I’m supposed to go while fighting back a wave of claustrophobia. Then the crowd parts a little, and I see a table set up in front of the elevator. Standing behind the table is a built-looking bouncer with a shaved head and a serious expression. I fix a smile onto my face and approach.

“Name?” she asks me, picking up a clipboard.

“Oh, uh,” I clear my throat. I hadn’t been expecting a guest list, and I have no idea if Sienna actually put my name on it. “It’s Pandora.”

“As in, box?” the bouncer looks up from her clipboard. Her eyes are a rich chocolate brown, lightly lined, and her lips are painted dusky purple.

“Actually it was a jar, and no, not that Pandora. My mom was in her Vampire Chronicles era when she had me.”

“And Akasha was already taken?”

I smile, pleasantly surprised that she got the reference. “That wouldn’t be so bad either.”

“You’re lucky Twilight hadn’t been written yet.”

“True that.”

She returns to checking the guest list, stopping near the bottom and crossing off a name. “You’re clear to go on up, vampire girl. Third floor.”

“Thanks.” I step into the elevator and press the button for floor three: Fire Spirits Nightclub.

When the elevator doors open, I am transported to the inside of a volcano. The walls look like they were carved out of lava rock, with bright red fissures emitting puffs of steam. The floor sparkles and glitters like embers, casting the entire room in an ethereal orange glow. Dance music thrums all around, reverberating up my legs and begging me to move to the beat. One corner houses a full bar, with mirrored shelves displaying the selection of spirits. Opposite that is an empty stage, though a crowd has begun gathering in front of it in anticipation.

Curious, I step further into the room to join the throng. That’s when Sienna materializes onstage. A spotlight appears above her, catching the natural highlights in her curled auburn hair. As she steps up to the microphone, the music stops, and a hush falls.

“Welcome friends!” she begins. “Thank you all for joining us here at the second annual Xenia Holigay Partay! We have an exceptional lineup for you this year: the Fire Dancers,” the crowd claps, “the Dapper Dykes Quartet,” louder cheering, “and the Jingle Balls Drag Show!” Raucous applause. Sienna gives them a moment to quiet down before continuing. “But before we begin, I have a very special guest here tonight. Two years ago, she left us to follow her heart across state lines.” A few chuckles, and my heart constricts as the meaning of her words catches up to me. She couldn’t be talking about…no, she wouldn’t. “But now she’s back, in all her glory. Theydies and Gentlethems, it is my immense pleasure to introduce you to my best friend, Albuquerque’s prodigal daughter, Pandora Simms!”

A second spotlight scans the crowd before landing directly on me, blinding my eyes. I try to remain upright as my knees turn to jelly. A charged silence falls over the room, and even though I can’t see beyond the circle of white light, I can feel every person staring at me. My brain abandons me, and I stand there frozen.

Then I hear the opening note of “The Middle”, and my limbs begin to thaw as the familiar song fills my heart. This is our song. And instead of Maren Morris singing, it’s Sienna’s voice ringing out over the karaoke machine. Then a second voice joins hers, and I can just make out Devon standing next to her, beckoning me with a smile. Everything else fades away as I’m transported immediately back to high school theater club. Muscle memory takes over, and I start singing along, my body moving to our own choreography without a conscious thought.

We had come up with an entire dance routine the summer this song came out, and I remember every detail like it was yesterday instead of six years ago. When it hits the pre-chorus, Sienna pantomimes casting a fishing line while I dart around the room as if swimming away. Then I pretend I’m caught, and she reels me in until I reach the base of the stage. The chorus swells and Devon’s strong arms haul me up onstage with the two of them. The crowd begins clapping along, many voicing now contributing to the catchy hook.

As the final note fades, my face hurts from singing at the top of my lungs while smiling through every minute of it. I can’t remember the last time I felt so alive, but I know for sure that whenever it was, these two were by my side.

“Enjoy the show everyone, and Happy Holigays!” We link our hands and take a bow before exiting stage left.

“I can’t believe you made me do that!” I gasp, trying to wipe my eyes without smearing my makeup. “This was your plan all along?”

“Please, you loved it!”

“As far as payback goes, you skated,” Devon tells me.

“Public humiliation is not what I would consider skating.”

“Impromptu karaoke is our thing,” Sienna points out. “Or at least it used to be.”

“Okay maybe I did love it, but that’s no excuse!” I insist. “I didn’t hear from either of you all day long.” My voice cracks. “I thought you were mad at me or something.”

“We barely heard from you over the past two years,” Devon reminds me yet again. “Compared to that, what’s one day?”

“So you did do it on purpose.” Tears start building up behind my eyes.

“Of course not, Dora, we were just busy that’s all.” Sienna looks pointedly at Dev.

“Mostly that. Maybe a little bit the other thing.” He looks away, but no]t before I catch a glimpse of the hurt expression on his face.

“Are you ever going to forgive me?”

“We already have, tonta.” Sienna snakes her arm around my waist and gives me a squeeze.

“No more freezing me out?” I stare at Devon until he meets my eyes again.

“No more leaving town unless we’re all going to Vegas?” He holds out a hand toward me, and I shake it immediately.

“Deal!”

“¡Tres amigas de por vida!” Sienna cries happily, pulling us both into a hug. I’m not the only one wiping my eyes now. “Ok, ok,” Sienna smoothes her dress, trying to compose herself. “Tequila shots and then I have to get back to work.”

“This place is amazing, Si,” I compliment her as we head to the bar.

“Told you, didn’t I,” she preens. She pushes her way up to the counter, pulling me and Devon up beside her. “Hey, Abby!” she calls out. “Three shots of Patrón!”

The bartender turns around, and I suddenly feel like I’ve been knocked over the head. Her short black mohawk is slicked back, with artistic geometric designs shaved into the sides. Her ears are adorned with multiple piercings, and colorful tattoos decorate her bare arms from the wrists up to the edges of her cut-off tank top. Her eyes are a striking blue, accentuated by dark makeup. I can’t look away.

“Wow, killer eyes.”

I wonder for a moment if I spoke out loud accidentally, then I realize that she was the one who said it. And she’s looking directly at me. Heat floods my cheeks, and I clear my throat, looking anywhere else now.

“Nice performance, by the way,” she continues. “Not many people can hold their own next to Sienna over here.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I joke, my voice finally coming back to me. “I’m more of a behind-the-scenes girl.”

“That’s too bad,” Abby’s voice goes lower, her eyes glinting. “You’re a natural up there. I’d like to see what else you can do, killer.”

If my insides weren’t already a puddle of mush, they definitely are now.

“To Pandora’s homecoming!” Devon holds up his shot glass, and I grab mine hastily, forcing myself to turn away from the gorgeous bartender. I can feel her eyes on my back as the three of us clink our glasses together before downing our shots. The tequila goes down smoothly, warming me from the inside.

When I turn back around to place my empty glass on the counter, Abby is holding out a slice of lime. Her fingertips brush mine when I take it, and our eyes lock again as I place it between my lips. The sour juice jolts me out of whatever spell this girl has me under, and I’m able to step away from the bar and follow my friends back to the dance floor.

I spend the night dancing enthusiastically with Dev. Sienna joins us in between her duties as event host, and I’m having more fun than I’ve had in years. Every time I glance over my shoulder, I catch Abby’s blue eyes watching me, and maybe- just maybe- I’m putting on a little bit of a show for her. It’s harmless, right?

When I take a break to catch my breath, I find myself back at the bar ordering a water. Abby hands me a cold bottle, and slides a napkin with her phone number on it right into my palm. Then she hits me with a wink and my knees almost buckle.

Devon and Sienna appear on either side of me, and the presence of my friends keeps me upright. The Jingle Balls finish their last number to uproarious applause, and the three of us start making our way out down the stairs. I try to slide the napkin into my bra surreptitiously, but nothing gets past these two.

“Whatcha got there, Dora?” Sienna asks.

“Um, nothing, just trash.”

“Trash that might also contain the cute bartender’s number?” Devon wiggles his eyebrows at me.

“Oh, please tell me you’re not going to call her.” Sienna looks at me seriously.

“Why not?” I pout. “Wait, don't tell me you already hooked up with her?”

“Ay, dios mío, I know better than to fish off the company dock. And you shouldn’t either, you work here now.”

“Yeah, but…she’s so hot.” I whine.

“Sienna’s probably right, it’s not a good idea.”

“I thought you were on my side, Dev!”

“I’m just here to be the voice of reason,” he insists, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, look, I didn’t want to say anything cuz it’s totally embarrassing but,” I chew my lip, looking down at the ground, “it’s been way too long since I’ve gotten laid.”

“How long are we talking?” Sienna narrows her eyes.

“Almost two…whole…years.” I rush forward down the steps to hide my humiliation.

“Two years?!” They both cry out behind me. I hear their footsteps as they race to catch up.

“I knew your relationship with Alejandra wasn’t the greatest,” Dev puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell us how bad it was?”

“I uprooted my entire life to be with her.” I feel tears prick the corners of my eyes. “I didn’t want to even admit to myself that I’d made a huge mistake. I can be a little…”

“Stubborn?” Sienna supplies at the same time Devon says “Hopeful.”

I laugh through my tears. “Yes.”

“Okay, in the name of orgasms, I guess I can make an exception this one time,” Sienna tells me. “I mean, at least she lives here. But just know that I still don’t think it’s worth it.”

“I kinda have a feeling she will be.” My mind conjures images of her toned, tattooed arms and I start wondering if the ink continues all the way under her shirt…

“Hello, earth to Dora?” Dev snaps his fingers in front of my face. “I think we’ve lost her.”

“She’s definitely a goner,” Sienna agrees. “Just promise us you’ll tread lightly?”

“Sure, yeah,” I mumble, “whatever you say.” But somewhere deep in my subconscious I realize that my friends are right: this girl is definitely going to be trouble.

Wild Night

I smell the corn cakes cooking before I open my eyes. I stumble out of bed and rush to the kitchen.

“Momzy!” I cry out as I rush to embrace her.

“Morning, Sweets!” She kisses me on the forehead, hugging me with her elbows since she has a spatula in one hand and a batter bowl in the other. Then she lifts three cakes off the griddle and onto a plate, topping them with fresh berries before sliding them over to my usual seat at the breakfast bar. Her long black hair- shot through with a few streaks of white here and there- is tied at the base of her neck and swings back and forth as she moves gracefully through the kitchen.

“How are you feeling?” I observe her surreptitiously while I dig into the cakes, looking for any sign of the emotional fatigue that usually follows a depressive episode, even a relatively minor one.

“Oh, fine, fine. I’m so sorry I missed your homecoming!” She appears bright and alert, but I definitely notice that tightness around her deep brown eyes that appears when she regrets missing out on things.

“You didn’t miss anything. I went right to bed and then Mama made me get a job.” I pretend to grimace.

“The horror!”

We laugh together, and a piece of me slides back into place.

I spend Saturday morning trying to finish unpacking, but mostly looking through all my old things in the closet. So many memories packed away in here, like scrapbooks filled with pictures of me, Sienna, and Dev all through the years.

In between the nostalgia, I keep picking up my phone and staring at the new contact I created for Abby after she gave me her number last weekend. I type out so many variations of “hey, how’s it going?” but can never get up the courage to press send. Before I know it, it’s after noon and I’m going to be late for work. I quickly get dressed and rush out the door.

Today I’m working a closing shift and Eric is showing me how to clean out the cake case. In addition to the freshly-baked biscochitos, it’s full of decadent seasonal offerings like pecan pie tartlets, apple cinnamon crumb cake, and peppermint fudge brownies. I think he missed his calling as a pastry chef.

I’m shoulder-deep in the case, trying to clean that hard-to-reach corner, when I hear the elevator doors open. I hurry to greet the new customer and bump the coconut cream pie in my haste to stand up. Some of it ends up covering my forearm with cold, sticky cream. The rest slides unceremoniously down the front of my apron, landing on the floor with a sickening plop. I close my eyes, wishing I could seep down into the floor drain with it. Then I hear a low chuckle and my eyes fly back open.

“I thought the ‘eat it or wear it’ challenge was over,” Abby laughs. She’s even more beautiful in the daylight, and my mouth goes dry at the thought of what I must look like right now.

“Hi! Er, I mean, may I help you?”

“If you need a minute go ahead and take it, I’m not in a rush.” She leans her elbows on the counter, eyes shining with mirth and trained on me. I have to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from tripping forward into the magnetic pull of that gaze.

Instead, I turn to the sink behind me and wash off my arm, then carefully pull the splattered apron off. Underneath, I’m wearing my old Justin Bieber concert tee that I found in my closet this morning, which might actually be more embarrassing than the cream pie. I take a deep breath, ignoring the heat in my cheeks, and step up to the register.

“So what can I get for you?” I don’t make eye contact this time, but then I end up staring at her lips instead. Her full, pink, pierced lips…

“I’m really in the mood for a sweet lassi, but make her extra dirty.”

“A what?” I squeak, the blush spreading from my face all the way down my neck.

“The smoothie.” Abby points to the menu on the wall behind me, and sure enough, there it is.

“Oh, right, of course. Absolutely, one sweet lassi with espresso coming right up.”

“Hold up, you’ve got a little something...” Abby pulls a napkin out of the dispenser and holds it out toward my cheek. I take it from her and press it to my face, eyes widening in horror when I realize it's more of the pie. On my face. How did that even happen?

I turn my back to her and scrub my hands and forearms again, trying to surreptitiously wipe my entire face with the paper towels. Maybe this is a nightmare and I’m about to wake up. Or the floor will open up a dimension to hell and swallow me whole. Either option is preferable.

But when I glance behind me Abby is still there, waiting for her drink. My heart is pounding so loudly I’m sure she can hear it. I stare at the smoothie recipe but none of the words make sense; my brain is going all fuzzy. Then Eric returns from his break to rescue me from death by mortification.

“Oh good, I’ve been waiting for a chance to show you how to make this one.” Eric rolls up his sleeves, pulls a tub of yogurt out of the fridge, and teaches me how to make the drink. All the while I can feel Abby’s eyes on me, just like the night at the club.

“Here you go,” I hand her drink to her, and it might be my imagination, but I feel like she grazes my fingers on purpose when she takes it from me.

“I added your usual two shots of espresso,” Eric tells her. “As for the ‘extra’ dirty, you’ll have to handle that yourself.”

“Kahlua,” Abby whispers to me in explanation. Then she winks at me, and I truly am ready to drip down the drain this time. I watch her walk back to the elevator, and after a final glance over her shoulder at me, she’s gone.

When my shift is finally over, I get into the elevator and end up pressing the button for the third floor instead of the lobby. I can hear the music thumping before the doors open, and enter a club that has been completely transformed from how it looked the last time. Black snowflakes hang from every inch of the ceiling, subtly glittering in the ultraviolet light. The steam for the volcanic fissures has been turned way up, giving the air a misty quality. I peer through the fog and strobe lights, already getting lost amongst the wildly dancing club-goers. A DJ is set up on the stage, wearing an outfit made entirely of fishnets, and blasting MXMS. I’ve somehow stumbled into Goth Night.

I walk in the opposite direction until I see the bar in the corner. The counter is lit from underneath with black lights, and I catch glimpses of Abby behind the bar mixing drinks. She’s wearing a black halter top that looks like it's just leather straps criss-crossing back and forth across each other. It’s cropped short, revealing an enticing strip of bare skin above her studded black leather belt. I snap my jaw shut before I actually start drooling. I know this is a bad idea. I try to remember everything Sienna said about hooking up with coworkers. But my feet are already moving toward her.

I walk up to the bar and stand there awkwardly until she looks my way. When she does, a bright smile lights up her face, and I suddenly feel all warm and tingly.

“Hey, you.” Abby’s low voice sends delicious shivers up and down my spine.

“Hi.”

“Kevin!” She shouts to the other bartender without looking away from me. “I’m taking my fifteen!”

Abby hops athletically over the counter to join me. When I feel her hand grasp mine, heat spikes through my veins. She leads me out onto the balcony, and the cold air helps clear my head a bit. The door closes behind us, muffling the sounds of the crowded nightclub. Tonight is calm and clear, city lights twinkling beneath a wide expanse of constellations. The din of nearby traffic and far-off sirens surrounds us as we look out over the sprawl of downtown Albuquerque.

“So, Pandora Simms, karaoke performer extraordinaire: how long have you been a ‘Belieber’?” she asks me with the barest hint of a chuckle in her voice. I once again curse my hasty wardrobe choice this morning.

“He was extremely cool when I was twelve.” I answer very seriously before a smile breaks through.

“A lifetime fan, then. Got it.” She grins back and my stomach flip-flops.

“And what were you listening to at twelve?”

“Only the most indie punk and definitely not My Chemical Romance.” We laugh together, our breaths rising in puffs of steam up toward the sky. Then she looks into my eyes and I stop breathing altogether. Her blue irises are a deep indigo in the waning moonlight. “Were you ever going to text me?”

“So many times,” I admit sheepishly.

“But…?”

“I just broke up with my girlfriend and…I’m kind of a mess right now.” I bite my lower lip as I speak my vulnerable truth.

“Oh, killer,” Abby tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, then her hand trails down the side of my neck. I exhale shakily at her touch. Her expression is so full of earnest compassion it makes my heart ache. “I know how you feel. If you need time, I can respect that.”

“Thank you.” Not only is this girl gorgeous and funny, she’s also sweet. The whole package. I’m an idiot.

“Or,” she continues, her thumb tracing circles across the pulse point beneath my jaw, “if you want help forgetting about her, I can do that too.” The implication makes my breath hitch.

Abby steps closer to me. She smells like leather and vanilla, the intoxicating scent drawing me in. She leans forward, just a breath away now. My lips part, trembling as I nod my head.

She kisses me, soft lips gently exploring at first. A fire ignites in my core, and my hands reach for her waist of their own volition. Her obliques are firm beneath my fingers as I grasp the top of her hips. Abby kisses me harder, her tongue finding mine, and I pull her body against me. That’s when I realize that in addition to the lip piercings, her tongue also has one. I wonder what other parts of her might be pierced, and the thought sends me into a dizzying spiral.

Then she pulls away abruptly, leaving me gasping.

“Think it over,” she tells me with a wicked smile, and then she disappears back inside. I stand there for a few long moments, wondering if what just happened was actually real. When my legs feel solid again, I go back in. As I pass the bar Abby nods in my direction, still smirking.

Her invitation was clear, and there’s no way in hell I’m going home alone tonight.

With more than an hour until the club closes, I don’t want to just hang out at the bar like a creeper. I try sitting at one of the tables along the wall, but my nervous energy won’t let me sit still. So I join in with the goths on the dance floor. Everyone seems to be doing their own type of interpretive dance, and after my initial self-consciousness fades, I let the music move me. Eyes closed, I picture the shape of Abby’s curves and remember the feel of her lips on mine.

After the longest hour ever, the DJ announces last call, the song reaches its final note, and everyone is getting ready to leave. Anticipation bubbles beneath my skin as I watch Abby place clean glasses back on the shelf and wipe down the countertop one more time.

“Hey, you.” I send her greeting back to her, and she turns to face me.

“You stayed,” she breathes, and the gleam in her eyes lets me know it was the right move.

“Where’s Kevin?”

“I sent him home early.”

“You want some help?”

Abby looks around the empty club, grabs two shot glasses, and fills them both all the way up with tequila. “You can clean your own glass, that would be helpful.” She downs her shot and watches me expectantly. I take mine in two large gulps, trying my best not to sputter. Then I duck under the partition and start washing my glass in the sink.

As I’m rinsing out the soap bubbles under the hot water, I feel Abby step up behind me. Her breath tickles my ear and her hand reaches past mine to shut off the faucet, close enough that I can feel the warmth of her skin. I close my eyes and exhale slowly, letting her take the glass from me and set it on the shelf. Then her hands are on my hips and her mouth is on my neck, sending shock waves all through my body.

I turn around and thread my fingers into her mohawk, then pull her into a deep kiss. Her fingers dig into the small of my back, and the feel of her hands on my skin is more intoxicating than the alcohol.

“I can’t wait to get you out of that shirt,” she murmurs when we come up for air, her teeth nipping my earlobe. Heat sears all the way down to my toes, and the throbbing between my legs intensifies.

“You hate the Biebs that much?” I joke through ragged breath. Abby grins, grasping the hem of my shirt taut in her fist.

“Yes, that’s the only reason.” She kisses me again, hard, and a low whine escapes my throat.

I press up against her, as if I can mold myself into her form. She staggers backward, pulling me with her, until her back hits the counter. I want to bend her over it and fuck her right now, but I make myself take a beat instead. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way, and I want it to last. I wrench my tongue out of her mouth, and she sucks my bottom lip between her teeth before letting me go. We stand facing each other, panting, as I try to settle the frenzy that has come over me.

“So, do you have a bed somewhere?” My pulse is roaring in my ears; I can hardly hear myself speak.

“Yeah I do, killer.” Abby’s swollen lips look pouty and perfect as she smiles at me. “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

“I am.” I can barely see through the haze of lust she has me surrounded in, but this I’m sure of. I’m positive I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want her right now.

“Then come with me.” She chuckles at her own double entendre. Everything she does just makes me want her more.

Abby closes up the bar and turns off the lights before we head out down the stairs. Our breathless giggles echo through the stairwell, hands and lips searching for skin as our feet stumble down the two flights.

We tumble out the back doors into the brisk night air. I inhale deeply, clearing my head. I can smell the promise of snow on the breeze, and the city noise is muted in the early morning hour. A shiver runs through me, this time from the temperature instead of delicate fingers. By the time Abby walks me to my truck, both of our faces are ruddy from the cold. I fire up the engine and turn the heater on full blast, even though I know it probably won’t start working until after I’ve reached my destination.

“Just a short drive, and then I’ll warm you right back up,” Abby promises me with a quirk of her eyebrow. Sure enough, the cold is forgotten in the heat of her gaze. She gives me directions, and I watch her get into her car before I pull the truck out onto the road.

Abby’s apartment is a cute studio just west of downtown. She waits for me to park, and then leads me to her door. Her wrist trembles as she slots the key into the lock. Is she cold, or is she…nervous? I don’t know how it’s possible, but I’m finding her more endearing with each passing moment.

We step inside, and as soon as she closes the door, she turns and pins my back against it, bolting the lock behind me. Her pupils are dark and dilated in the low light of a single lamp, and as she looks me up and down, I swear I can feel her gaze reach all the way inside me.

She leans in, that heady mixture of vanilla and leather overwhelming my senses. I gasp as her lips tug my earlobe, trace down my jaw, and bury into the side of my neck. Her teeth scrape my skin and my breath quickens. I unzip her coat and push it off of her shoulders, then she pulls it the rest of the way until it's on the floor. Mine follows a moment later.

I push myself away from the door, desperate to feel her against me again. Our lips collide, and my forward momentum propels us both farther into the room. I run my hands up her biceps, skimming across her intricate tattoos like I’ve been wanting to do since the first time I saw her. I follow the line of her collarbone until my fingertips brush up against the edge of her halter top. Without breaking our kiss, I reach behind her back and tug at the ties that are holding it together. It falls away, and one of my questions is finally answered: both of her nipples are pierced.

I roll them between my fingers, eliciting a gasp as she arches her back. Abby’s hands fumble with my shirt, pulling it upward. I release my hold to raise my arms up over my head, and once the shirt is off, she flings it toward the farthest corner possible. We both laugh, then her lips find mine again while she unhooks my bra. My breasts crash against hers, soft skin punctuated by hard metal.

The rest of our clothes hit the floor in quick succession, and we tumble onto the bed in a tangle of lips and limbs. I grab her hips with both hands, pressing her into the mattress, and she bites down on my lower lip with just the right amount of pressure. I moan into her mouth, then pull away to drink in the sight of her: even more incredible than I ever imagined. But before I finish devouring every inch of her with my eyes, she sits up and grasps both my wrists. She spins me around until I am the one beneath her- knees bracketing my hips, arms pinning mine over my head, delectable breasts hovering just out of reach above my face.

“Don’t move,” Abby commands before releasing her grip. I hold perfectly still, waiting and vulnerable. Then her warm breath caresses my bare skin, and I relax into the bed. Her fingertips slide all the way up the sides of my body: from my ankles, along my thighs, across my hips bones, and over my rib cage before coming to a stop at my chest. She cups both breasts in her hands, circling my nipples with her thumbs. They rise up to meet her touch, and she takes each into her mouth one at a time, tonguing and sucking and nibbling. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched like this; I think I could come from this alone. But then suddenly her mouth is gone.

Her weight shifts as she sits up, and I can feel the heat between her legs on my lower belly. I run my hands up her thighs, hook my fingers under the band of her underwear and give it a little tug. I want to know if she’s as wet for me as I am for her. But she swats my hand away with a playful laugh.

“Wait your turn,” she instructs me, and I comply. I watch her arm muscles bunch and release as she smooths her mohawk back, securing it with a clip at the back of her head. Her tits rise and fall with each panting breath, piercings catching the light as they move. I am bewitched by the sight of her above me.

I see her grab something off her nightstand. She reaches into her mouth, tongue sticking out for a brief moment, and then she’s looking at me again. Curiosity piqued, I sit up, cupping her firm ass as I do.

“What was that?” I wonder.

“You’re about to find out,” she whispers in my ear, and my insides quiver. I go to kiss her, but she pushes me back onto the bed forcefully. She holds me down with a palm in the center of my chest, her eyes daring me to protest. I wait, holding my breath, to see what she will do next.

Abby slots one of her knees in between my legs and I’m already squirming. The top of her thigh gently grazes my throbbing clit, only the slightest amount of pressure, and I throw my head back with a cry.

“Easy there, killer,” she teases me. “Save some for the main event.” She uses her knee to slide one of my legs outward, then the other one, until I’m spread open for her. I know what’s coming when she maneuvers herself downward, but I am not at all prepared for what actually happens.

She starts off slowly, the tip of her tongue darting up and down and all around. She flicks it back and forth across the sensitive node, faster and faster, sending me spiraling up toward ecstasy. My cries are getting louder, more desperate, as unintelligible words spill from my lips. But every time I feel the pressure building, she eases off before coming back again, edging me closer and closer when she returns. Then when I think I can’t take it any longer, she presses her piercing to my clit, and it’s vibrating.

The sudden pulsation sends me hurtling over the threshold, and I scream into the back of my hand as waves of pleasure wash through me.

Before I even have a chance to catch my breath, Abby slides one finger inside me. She waits, gauging my reaction, before adding a second one. Gentle thrusting becomes rhythmic pounding as my hips rock toward her with quickening cadence. Her thumb circles my clit, then she pushes deeper inside. She curls her fingers upward while her thumb presses down, hitting that perfect spot from both sides.

With a silent cry, my walls clench around her fingers as my body shudders in exquisite release. My mind is floating somewhere far above me, riding this high that I never want to come down from.

Abby lays alongside my body while aftershocks continue to roll through me. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes as I struggle to get my breath under control. She places a steadying hand on my chest, and my staccato heartbeat begins to slow.

“You okay over there?” Abby asks me softly.

“Am I here?”

She pokes and prods at me, her grin turning mischievous when she finds my ticklish spots. “Yep, definitely still here.”

“Good. Yes. Okay.” My brain can’t put words into sentences just yet.

“Water?”

I nod, and she walks over to the kitchen. The bed feels cold and empty without her.

“Come back,” I whine, and she sits back down next to me with a glass in her hand. I haul myself up into a sitting position and gulp down the proffered water. When my thirst is taken care of, I place the glass on the nightstand and pull her up against me. “You’re in big trouble now,” I growl into her ear.

“Is that so?”

I push her shoulders down into the bed, just like she did to me, and remove the last piece of clothing covering her. Every detail of her is a work of art, and I can hardly believe I’m here with her. She watches me with half-lidded eyes, opening her thighs ever-so-slightly to give me a glimpse. Turns out she has one more piercing I didn’t know about.

I lick my lips, savoring the moment. Then I start to reach for her and I…freeze. I might as well be a statue. My muscles refuse to move as I stare at her. Beautiful Abby, looking up at me, full of expectations. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to touch, to taste. This is what I’ve been waiting for, what I’ve been fantasizing about all week. But my brain has me in a chokehold. I open my mouth and no sound comes out.

Abby’s lustful gaze begins turning into a concerned pout. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I…” I’m ruining everything.

She sits up and folds in on herself, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. The walls of her apartment seem to be closing in as my vision blurs.

“It’s not you,” I struggle to explain, though I don’t understand anything that’s happening right now. “You’re perfect. I just…I have to go.” My paralyzed body suddenly flies into a whirl of motion as I gather up my clothes and start throwing them back on. I can’t even look at her as I hop on one foot, pulling my sock up. Rushing to the door, I shove my arms inside my coat haphazardly. I look back one last time to tell her “I’m so sorry.”

My drive home is hazy as tears of humiliation stream down my cheeks. Luckily the roads are empty and I know the way without having to think too much about it. It isn’t until I park in the gravel drive and get out that I realize something: I left my Bieber shirt at her apartment.

Xmas at Xenia

The good thing about my moms is that they don’t pry. They both sit with me at the kitchen table during breakfast, giving me space to mope while letting me know they’re both there for me. I’ve been feeling morose for days, vacillating between anger at Ale for leaving me with intimacy issues and chiding myself for thinking I could actually land someone like Abby. I still don’t understand what’s wrong with me, but tomorrow is Christmas and it’s supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year or whatever.

This morning we all carpool to Xenia together. The café closes early tonight, so I’m stuck with the opening shift on no sleep. At least there will be coffee. And the nightclub is closed today and tomorrow so there’s zero chance of running into Abby. Damn it all to hell, Sienna was right.

Mama heads right into Bathhouse Spa to get ready for her sunrise yoga class, while Momzy and I take the elevator up to the roof. She has her work laptop with her, and the first thing I do is set up one of our standing heaters next to a table for her. She orders a black drip coffee and settles in.

I bumble around, turning on the coffee maker and filling it with water and ground coffee. I still haven’t quite gotten La Spaz to trust me yet, so I don’t even bother trying to make myself a latte. Instead I fill a second cup with drip and add plenty of cream and sugar to mine.

“Working on Christmas Eve?” I ask Momzy when I bring our fresh coffees out. I decide to sit with her for a minute. No one else is here anyways.

“I have a lot to catch up on,” she tells me with a wry smile. I squeeze her hand, and when she squeezes back, her smile changes to her ‘everything’s fine’ face. I don’t buy it.

When I can’t justify sitting there any longer, I finish my coffee and get back to work. I accidentally bake too many ginger snaps and bring a plate out to Momzy. She tends to forget to eat when she’s in work mode.

“Thank you, Sweets.” She accepts the treat gratefully and I hug her around the shoulders.

Customers start showing up, making me too busy to check on her while I’m juggling the register and arguing with La Spaz. The machine seems to be warming up to me though, and no one has complained or returned a drink yet.

Mama enters the café from the elevator, looking refreshed with her yoga mat slung over her shoulder. She asks for a matcha latte before joining Momzy outside. The two share a tender kiss, and my worry relaxes a bit. They’ll take care of each other, just like they always have.

My shift is halfway over when Eric arrives to start his closing shift. He looks over the work I’ve done so far, nods in approval, and then sends me on my lunch break. I heat up a pesto sandwich in the panini press and join my family outside. Momzy is still frowning at her laptop and typing away at top speed.

Mama is editing a collage of her paintings. I recognize them instantly: they are all of Momzy dancing. From traditional jingle dress dance to ballet and hip hop, every single one is poetry in motion. The complete adoration Mama holds for her is evident in each brush stroke.

Not for the first time, the strength of their relationship brings tears to my eyes. Without even speaking a word, they are radiating love and support. It occurs to me that I’ve been holding my own relationships up to this impeccable standard. I can admit now that whatever I had with Alejandra wasn’t working long before I found out about the cheating. We never once looked at each other this way.

I sigh, and both my mothers look at me with concern but don’t ask me what’s wrong. How can I tell them that I don’t think I’ll ever find it? That one true love. That’s why it’s a fairy tale, right? Too good to be true. Except that I can see it right in front of me and I know it's real. It’s the only real thing in my life.

“Are you coming with us to the farolito walk tonight, Panda?” Mama asks me hopefully.

“I’d love to!” Memories of every Christmas Eve spent walking with them up Canyon Road in Santa Fe flood my mind. The smell of piñon bonfires and the taste of cinnamon hot chocolate accompanied by holiday carolers with their acoustic guitars. The sight of thousands of paper bags lit up by votives, leading the way up every sidewalk and driveway. Nothing is more magical.

We plan to meet back at the house for tamales before we drive up.

“Are you sure you don’t need us to pick you up after your shift?” Momzy asks me for the third time.

“I’m sure, Sienna and Devon are meeting me here.”

“Tell them to come walk with us!” Mama adds.

“I will, I promise.” I hug them goodbye and we all head back inside. Eric waves to both of them as they get in the elevator to leave.

Just as my shift is about to end, Dev and Sienna come bursting in with their arms full of paperwork.

“Dora, thank god you’re still here!” Sienna sounds panicked.

“What’s wrong?” I frown. My head is pounding from exhaustion, all I want to do is go home and crash before I have to get festive again.

“Carla, my assistant, just called to say she has Covid!” Sienna wails. She looks truly rattled, which is very uncharacteristic of her. Eric lets me punch out a few minutes early, and I help them spread out their paperwork on one of our largest tables.

“I’ve prioritized all the remaining tasks, but it’s more than we’ll be able to get done with just the two of us.” Devon raises his eyebrows at me expectantly.

“Okay I’m gonna need more information here.”

“The Christmas dinner!” Si is practically hyperventilating. “My own to-do list is a mile long, I can’t take on all of Carla’s work on top of it.”

“Christmas dinner?”

“She’s organizing a dinner here tomorrow for anyone who doesn’t have family to eat with on Christmas,” Devon explains patiently.

“Oh, you guys, that’s so nice!”

“Well it’s not going to be nice if there isn’t any holiday decor, or music playing, or you know, food to eat!”

“Okay, I’m with you now.” I pat her wrist reassuringly. “What can I do to help?”

“I’ve prioritized food, then servers, then music, and lastly, decorations.” Devon hands me a list of things that still need to be done.

“People appreciate ambiance, especially around the holidays.” Sienna snaps at him. I take her shoulders and gently turn her towards me.

“He’s helping in a way that makes sense to him,” I remind her. “Why don’t you focus on your list, while Dev and I tackle Carla’s?”

“Oh, would you?” Sienna sags toward me in relief.

“Hey, we’ve got this. I promise.”

“You guys are the best,” Sienna hugs both of us. Her eyes look a little wild as she starts making phone calls, but she seems more like herself again. I watch her work for a moment, completely in awe of who she has become.

Hours later, Eric comes by to tell us the café is closing and it's time to pack it up. I look down at my list, and almost all of the items are checked off. I follow my friends out the door with a sense of accomplishment that I haven’t felt in ages.

“Farolito walk?” I ask both of them as we climb into Devon’s 4Runner. They start to protest, then I remind them that nothing else can be done tonight and everything will work out fine tomorrow. “Come on, it’s tradition!”

They eventually relent, so we all go back to my house and load up on tamales with Mama and Momzy. Seeing my best friends in my house again warms me up even faster than the red chile. This place had been a safe haven for each of them at different times in their lives, the way it was for all of mine. It's a good reminder of how lucky I am to still have them- all four of them- as the foundation of my life.

I spend Christmas morning sleeping in late before joining my moms for cinnamon roll breakfast while we open our stockings. My phone keeps blowing up, and they finally tell me to go on and help my friends. I fire off a series of texts to answer all of Sienna’s frantic questions, and then Devon picks me up. We gather donated decorations from all over town and take them to Xenia to set up.

The inside of the Earthly Eats restaurant feels primordial. Artificial trees dominate each corner of the room, branches covered with green leaves arching over the dining area, and Sienna is already here hanging paper snowflakes from each one. The ceiling is a deep indigo dotted with twinkling star lights, and every few minutes they all flash together as if lightning is on the horizon. Hidden speakers emit subtle nature sounds around the room, and I head toward the back to find the source. When I do, I plug my phone into it and pull up the holiday playlist I had worked on all night.

The kitchen is busy preparing a full-on feast, and the aroma makes my stomach growl. I go back to the dining room where Devon is pushing all of the tables together into one long table. I help him place the chairs all around, and then we set up the candles and centerpieces. Sienna is positioning fresh poinsettias all around the room, and the final effect is stunning.

Mama and Momzy arrive with linens and tableware for the place settings. I help them set the table, and that’s when I notice the printed menus sitting in the center of each plate. Food provided by Earthly Eats, dessert by Clouds In My Coffee, and libations by Fire Spirits. My heart drops down to my stomach like a rock. But that must mean…

“Hey guys, where do you want the champagne?” Abby enters the restaurant carrying a large heavy box. She looks absolutely ravishing in a red dress that hugs every curve. A myriad of emotions overwhelm me: longing, regret, chagrin. But the one that wins out is abject terror. She starts turning toward me, and before she can catch me staring I make a run for it.

The balcony outside gives an expansive view of the sun setting on the horizon. The pink and gold hues highlight the wispy clouds, painting the pale blue sky with brilliant color. I watch it for a long moment, waiting for my heart to slow and my skin to cool. Then, I notice the box of luminarias beside me. I open it and start unrolling the paper bags filled with sand, placing them upright at even intervals along the balcony wall. A few minutes later, Devon and Sienna come out and join me.

“Okay Dora, what gives?” Sienna gets right in front of me, making me look at her.

“Yeah, you high-tailed it out of there like you’d just seen the ghost of Christmas past.”

“Might as well have,” I grumble miserably.

“Spill it, Pandora.” Sienna gives me her no-arguments face, and I know there’s no way out of this.

“I kinda…hooked up with Abby the other night?” I duck my head, waiting for the lecture.

“I knew this would happen!” Sienna smacks me with a luminaria. “Didn’t I warn you?”

“What do you mean you ‘kinda’ hooked up with her?” Devon wonders.

“Well I sort of left halfway through.”

“You…what?” Devon gapes at me.

“Look, I don’t know what happened, I just… froze.” I drop my head into my hands miserably.

“Oh, Dora.” Devon places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Maybe it was too soon?”

“I’m just not cut out for anything casual. I want something real. Something that…means something. I thought I had that with Ale, but now I know how wrong I was. How can I trust another person when I don’t even trust myself to know the difference?”

“And you don’t think what you have with Abby is real?” Devon asks me gently.

“I don’t know. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I can’t be sure.”

“When it’s the right person, you’ll know.”

“Do you want me to tell her to leave?” Sienna offers.

“You would do that?”

“Hello, you’re my best friend! And you just saved my ass with all the work you put in for this dinner. It’s the least I can do.”

“Well, you warned me not to go for a coworker and I did it anyway.” I sigh. “I’m going to run into her sometime, might as well get it over with.”

“Bravery in the face of awkwardness. I like it.” She hugs me tightly, then rushes back inside.

“If you need me to run interference, give me a signal,” Devon tells me.

“Thanks,” I smile up at him gratefully. “Side-of-the-nose scratch?”

“I’ll be keeping an eye out.” He also gives me a big hug before returning to the dinner. I start feeling slightly better, knowing that no matter what happens, my friends have my back. Then the balcony doors open again, and Abby steps out into the twilight.

“Hi,” she looks at me, and I can’t breathe.

“Abby,” my voice sounds strangled. What do I even say to her?

“Are you okay?”

“You’re asking me if I’m okay?” I can feel the hysteria bubbling up in my throat. “After I ran out on you?”

“You looked pretty upset.” She looks away, biting her lower lip. “I just wanted to make sure…did I do something? You know, make you uncomfortable or anything?”

“No!” I hurry to reassure her. “No, not at all. You were- you are incredible. I’m the one who fucked it all up.”

“You weren’t ready,” she surmises. “You tried to tell me that, and I pushed you anyway.”

“I wanted to be pushed.” I take a step toward her, wishing there was some way I could convince her that this is all on me.

“I meant what I said that night,” she continues, looking back into my eyes now. “I’ll wait until you are ready.”

“What if I never am?” My voice quavers.

“How about this: what if we try to be friends?”

“Friends?” It honestly had never occurred to me. “Is that even possible?”

“Guess we’ll never know unless we give it a shot.”

“I do love a challenge.” I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Abby doesn’t hate me. She actually wants to be my friend.

“So do I.” With one last wink, Abby turns to walk back inside. As I watch her go, I shake my head in disbelief.

After all the luminarias are set up and the candles lit, I take a deep breath and go back to the gathering. When I walk in, the sight fills my heart with joy. My two best friends, my two moms, my boss, the hot bartender I halfway hooked up with, and even the bouncer from the other night are all seated around the same table along with many people I have yet to meet.

Everyone is warm and happy and celebrating together, exactly as they are. With a contented sigh, I sit down to join them. My life might look different now, but if I can be here for my family and work alongside my friends, maybe there’s hope for me yet.

The food is delicious, the conversation even better, and the laughter lasts long into the evening. It feels so good to be a part of something bigger than myself, and I marvel at the way I ended up here.

I don’t know how it happened, but I actually managed to have the best Christmas ever.

To Be Continued...