Christmas Spirit

I just sat down and wrote this. It probably won't be going anywhere, but... I really need a deep conversation in real life, and since that isn't happening, I had one with imaginary people in front of an imaginary Starbucks in my head. 

I really wish there was a real Starbucks in my head.  I need caffeine. So desperately. So desperately. 

Deep conversations and caffeine. Oh, and reviews. Reviews. Those...

Those are a few of my fave-or-ite things!

Okay, I'll shut up now. Thanks for clicking on this!

“Hello.”

“Hello.”

We stand there observing each other, and it doesn’t feel like either of us is staring, really.

He is very clean cut. His coat is grey, functional, unzipped over a t-shirt with a logo on it. Almost black jeans covering grey converse high tops. His hair is cut in the style of the day, but isn’t gelled like most guys with that hair, so it’s messy and doesn’t really fit with the sharpness of the rest of him.

I can’t see his eyes because they’re so deep-set his brow casts a shadow over them. But he’s looking at me and then speaks to me.

“Why are you here?” He gestures awkwardly, drink in hand, to here.

“Bit of Christmas spirit.”

Guy smiles. “Ha.” He pauses and I think he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t. He breaks eye contact and zips up his coat. Then we’re just two strangers again at the edge of the sidewalk with. Our visible breaths pull together in the cold, like they’re huddling for survival.

I’m glad he speaks again. He has such a presence. I don’t think I would have been able to ever strike up a conversation with him.

“How ironic. It’s a deception, isn’t it? Christmas spirit.” He holds his red holiday Starbucks cup with both hands and cranes his neck a little to take a sip of it. “Stop looking at me, please.”

I feel my cheeks getting warm, but even though the feeling of embarrassment isn’t…

It’s cold outside, goddamit. I need the warmth. Maybe on a summer night, I might have felt discouraged. But now, the abruptness and sense of the statement makes me laugh. It’s like alcohol.

“Sorry. I thought we had a connection or something. Clairvoyance.” I pull a few strands of my hair behind my ear. “Guess not.”

“ I think the Christmas spirit is making you delusional.” The guy laughs shortly. “Don’t worry. It happens to everyone.”

I feel braver by the second. “ You’re just bitter. I bet you’re Jewish.”

“No. Just depressed.” He takes another dignified little sip.

“I know some people who would argue that the two are synonyms.”

“What kind of statement is that?”

“They’re jews themselves, so apparently it isn’t offensive... Are you Buddhist, then?” I need another shot of embarrassment. Just for the hell of it, I add, “I’m Buddhist.”

He doesn’t miss a beat.“Well, that’s pretentious,” He says, and another silence prevails.

I decide to take a chance. On talking.

“Damn, you must actually be depressed. And I thought you were kidding.”

“Eh. I don’t know.” He lets out deep breath, and the air before us fogs. “I thought you were. Kidding. You aren’t actually buddhist, are you?”

I giggle.“No. How did you guess?”

“All of the white American buddhists I’ve ever met abhor Christmas. I’m pretty sure that’s why they became buddhists, actually. If they could time travel, they would probably go and kill Jesus.” He pauses. “Just for the effect, you know? Idiots.”

“That is an impressive amount of teenage angst,” I comment, trying to spur him on. I have to speak louder than usual because I’m trying not to look at him, and it directs my voice to not-him.

“Yeah, they all have Catholic parents. I guess it kind of builds up when you’re raised like that. The angst. They grew out of it though.”

“What are they now? I mean, what religion are they?”

“ Atheists. They’re actually very religious about it, too. It’s ironic.”

“Ironic like Christmas spirit?” I’m teasing a stranger I barely know. It’s weird.

But okay.

It’s comforting knowing that I won’t see him ever again. I could tell him anything. And it won’t matter. He obviously isn’t a warm, phone number requesting type. All safe here.

“Not like Christmas spirit…. It’s just ironic on it’s own. The holiday spirit is too. But in different ways.”