A Christmas to Remember

The chatter all around me soothed me; it was as if I could drown in the feelings of everyone else around me. Closing my eyes, I let the sound envelop me, bathe me in sensation, shower me with emotions. Noise had calmed me for as long as I could remember. It was as if I couldn’t breathe properly unless I could hear someone nearby. My mother used to say it was because of my extroversion—if that was even a word—but nonetheless, I had it. I always seemed to thrive in company, not necessarily as the center of attention, but more as someone indulging in the atmosphere around me. Lifting the steaming cup of hot chocolate, I took a sip, savoring its smoothness, the incredible thickness and flavor. Come November first, that was my drink of choice, because soon, Christmas would be upon us, and only in the dark, snowy season of the year was a drink like hot chocolate acceptable. It was never served in my childhood home, probably because, even in winter, it would be incredibly hot outside, and hot chocolate was only meant for snowy times. Luckily, in the New York winter, cold and snow were always in supply; no matter how much or how little you wanted it, the entire city would be covered in it. The small café was packed. People were everywhere, all around us. Most of them were happy, smiling and gesturing to their companions, but some were focused on the computers or phones in front of them, wearing serious expressions and not really focusing on what was important. Snow was falling just outside. Big, chunky flakes drifted down around us, while darkness slowly overtook the light. It was a beautiful scene as the twinkling lights began to shine everywhere outside the café. Christmas has always been my favorite time of year, not because of the presents or the food, but because of the way it affected everyone’s mood. There was that slightly stressed, trying-to-be-cheerful, crazed look that appeared in most adults’ eyes. It humored me. Mostly because, when you think about what Christmas is really all about, it’s not the presents or the food, or trying to decorate the most extravagant house or anything like that—it’s about coming together and sharing life with your loved ones. However, just like the last two years, I didn’t really have any loved ones to share the holidays with. According to my father, I had made that choice when I went to New York to study law instead of staying home and studying something like history, art, or literature—something that would make me shine in the eyes of a future husband but wouldn’t rival his intellect or make him feel overshadowed by me. It was because I didn’t choose the life my mother had: growing up, entering pageants, cheerleading in high school, and then becoming a wife right after college, followed soon after by becoming a mother. It was because I didn’t resemble my brothers’ wives or the kind of life everyone else lived. I wanted more than that. I wanted to wake up in the morning and have a purpose—a purpose greater than being arm candy on my husband’s arm and a mother to his children. I wanted something for myself, something that could keep me occupied, something that would earn me enough money to make sure I didn’t need a husband but wanted one. Which, of course, I do. I want a husband; I want that great love story. I want someone to look at me and see their entire world. I want to have children one day and make sure they have every opportunity in the world. I want to support them in all their endeavors and never make them feel like they have to be something they’re not. My phone rang, snapping me out of my thoughts and making me focus on where I was. Looking down at the screen, I saw a name I hadn’t expected to see for a long time: Mrs. Smith. It was generic, exactly as she had asked me to make it. Picking up the phone and swiping the screen, I placed it close to my ear. “This is Em,” I answered, waiting with bated breath to hear what my boss wanted to say. Mrs. Smith was the one who had saved my college tuition; she was the one who made sure I didn’t need student loans and that my entire education was paid for, even though I was only halfway through pre-law. “Good day, Miss Slater, how are you doing?” Even though Mrs. Smith asked, she didn’t want to hear about school. She didn’t want to hear that I had just been named in the top five percent of my class or that I had just earned an A on an assignment most thought impossible to ace. She wanted to know if I was available for her business. “I’m doing just fine, Mrs. Smith. Nothing out of the ordinary.” “That’s good to hear,” she replied, though I knew she had something more to say. “Are you free this holiday?” When I was a freshman struggling for both cash and housing, I had been recommended by a classmate to a business called Disclosure. Disclosure was an exclusive kind of business, something that paid extremely well and didn’t interfere with my studies. It was something I could easily do with the kind of background I had. After spending my freshman year in a contract with Robert Kingland, I had earned enough money to never have to do it again. But I told Mrs. Smith to keep my account, mostly out of curiosity to see what kind of men I would be paired with. However, I hadn’t heard from her in over ten months, so I assumed I never would. “Actually, I am,” I answered. “School’s out soon, and I don’t have to return until mid-January.” “Perfect, Miss Slater, that is just brilliant,” she replied, and I could almost hear the relief in her voice. “So, no family obligations or anything?” “No, I don’t see my family over the holidays and haven’t done so for the past two years. May I ask why?” I knew why. Mrs. Smith didn’t call to chat or catch up; that was not her MO, and that was fine—I didn’t need coddling. “Miss Slater, we have a new client for you,” she replied, and my heart started beating faster. I could feel it suddenly rising in my chest, making my hands slightly clammy. “And who might that be?” I asked, hoping to all the gods above that, whoever it might be, he was just as sweet and caring as Robert had been. Robert had been my first client, and before you ask, no, I’m not selling my body for money, at least not in the way most people might think. What I sell to these men is my company, my mind and wit, to give them someone close in their lives—someone to take to all the fine events they need to attend, someone to talk to, someone they can connect with. Robert and I had developed an incredible friendship, and sometimes he would text just to ask how I was doing. I enjoyed it. Robert had been a high-profile lawyer, someone I could question and debate with, someone I actually looked up to. He had needed someone to help with his personal life, to show people he could stick with one woman—not that he did, since we didn’t have a s****l relationship—and to appear as a desirable bachelor for his future wife. So, for one year, I was with him: I lived in his apartment, made him coffee in the mornings, we talked about my classes, we discussed the firm where he was a partner, and we developed something special and utterly amazing. The first time I was photographed with him, my mother reached out, telling me how great it was that I had found someone like Robert. I hadn’t answered her, because it was all fake and purely for show. “Can you come into the office? I would like for you and him to be introduced, and we’ll see if there is the certain kind of chemistry he’s looking for.” “Of course, Mrs. Smith. When would you like me to come in?” I asked, still feeling my body going into overdrive. Disclosure would pay me an incredible amount of money to be with this man, but just like the last time she called, I was nervous. Nervous that he might be unpleasant, that I wouldn’t know how to converse with him, that I wouldn’t be pretty enough for him, that I wouldn’t qualify to be the “candy” on his arm. I knew I didn’t need a man to tell me whether or not I was good enough, but the many conversations and lectures I’d received from my mother since I turned ten still loomed in the back of my mind. “Tomorrow at two—would that work in your schedule, Miss Slater?” “I’ll see you then,” I replied, and hung up the phone.