A Christmas Contract With Him

“Remember, your father and I would be expecting you and your partner for Christmas this year, Goodnight.” The call ends. First I get fired, and now this? Can a girl catch a single break? I flop onto my big blue bed with a thud, staring at the ceiling, Christmas is in a week. Where am I supposed to find a man in seven days?, Seven whole days, I mean I couldn’t even keep a man for a month. I sighed, my phone slipping from my fingers onto the soft carpet. The holiday season had always been my nightmare-my parents reminding me I was "the disappointment," my ex cheating on me and still leaving me for my sister, and now apparently bosses enjoyed firing me in the most dramatic ways, always on Christmas, as if I have a Christmas curse or something. Life really had a flair for timing. After a very long moment spent contemplating curling up under the covers and just thinking of hiding until January, I grab my phone and dial Tania. Please, let her have a miracle solution, or else I’m doomed. The line rings. And rings. And rings. Just as I'm about to hang up, her tiny, cheerful voice floats through the speaker. “Hey babes, what’s good?” "I need your help," I mutter, letting out a dramatic sigh worthy of an Oscar. Silence on the other end. Then, "Okay… I'll be over in a bit." Twenty minutes later, Tania bursts through my apartment door like a whirlwind, dragging a shopping bag that smells suspiciously like peppermint and nachos. “Alright, spill it. Who’s the unlucky guy this time?” “Unlucky guy?” I groan, tossing my hair back. “Tania, I don’t have a guy. And Christmas is in a week. My parents expect me to show up with a boyfriend. I can’t do it. Can’t you see the panic in my eyes? And what do you mean by unlucky guy? Tania smirks, her hands on her hips. "So… what you need is a… temporary boyfriend. You know, like in the movies. And don't pretend like you don't know what mean" I wince a bit, she got a point there. I blink. “What movies?” "The kind with contract marriages," she says, leaning against my dresser and waving her hands like she's casting a spell. "You show up, he plays the part, everyone's happy, problem solved. Totally professional, zero emotional damage guaranteed." I freeze mid-sigh. “…Wait. Did you just say… a contract marriage?” Tania bursts into laughter. "I'm joking, you know? Movie-style, ridiculous, completely insane. Don't look at me like that.i don't know why you can't understand jokes, even Grammy's gets a good joke" I tune out the rest of the sentence, But I can’t help it. My head is racing. Two weeks, just two weeks. Fake boyfriend. Family drama avoided. Somehow, in my desperation, it doesn’t sound totally impossible. Tania notices my silence and grins. "See? That's why I said I'm joking. I didn't mean." “I’m not saying yes,” I interrupt, shaking my head like I can undo the thought, “…but maybe it’s not completely crazy either.” Tania raises an eyebrow, eyes sparkling. “Uh-oh… that’s the look. Babe, don’t tell me you’re actually considering it! It is in fact crazy!!” “…Maybe I am,” I whisper and feel my heart pound. Tania gasps dramatically. "Girl. You just might be a genius… or absolutely insane. Either way, this is going to be fun." I flop back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling once more, letting the idea settle. Tania was insane, but… maybe I could be slightly insane too. Desperate times, desperate measures. My phone buzzes. A message from Clara, my sister, flashes across the screen: “Hope you've got a man this year. Would be tragic if you showed up alone again.” I groan and toss my phone across the bed. Clara’s timing was as impeccable as ever. I peer up at the ceiling and mutter, “one week… one week to find a boyfriend. Or… a contract husband, apparently.” Half an hour later, Tania and I are nestled on my couch with cocoa and peppermint marshmallows scattered across the coffee table. She's scrolling through her contacts like she's some kind of pro matchmaker. “Okay, let’s be realistic,” she says, tapping her phone with a grin. “We have one week. You need someone charming, presentable, socially adept, and willing to. What’s the word again pretend? I groan. "Yeah, because the only ones in the city that fit that description are either married, gay, or terrifyingly perfect CEOs. Tania raises a finger, like she's about to announce the discovery of the century. "Or." she says slowly, "we could just make the whole thing official. Contract style. Not real, just paperwork, appearances, the whole shebang." I stare at her, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “You’re joking, right?” "Of course I'm joking!" she says quickly, waving her hands. "But think about it. It's hilarious. You get a boyfriend for two weeks. I get to watch the chaos. And your parents get fooled. Everyone wins!" I pause. The thought lingers. A week. Just until Christmas. It’s crazy. Ridiculous. Completely… tempting. Tania leans back, her arms crossed, her grin unwavering. “Babe, you’re thinking about it. Don’t lie to me.” “…Maybe I am,” I admit quietly, feeling both ridiculous and relieved. She throws her head back and laughs like I've just handed her the script for a rom-com she's been waiting to direct. "Yes! This is going to be epic. Okay, let's start scouting candidates. Charming, tall, preferably with good jawlines. You know, movie-worthy." She says, jerking her hips up and down. I groan again, burying my face in a pillow. “I can’t believe I’m actually considering this…” “Exactly why it’s perfect,” Tania says with a nudge to me. “Now grab your jacket, babe. We’re going hunting.” And just like that, my disastrous Christmas didn't seem quite so bleak anymore. It was about to get… a lot stranger.