GOD MET ME YESTERDAY by Jasmine Sayles

The mere thought of shopping for Christmas sends unsettling chills down Holly’s spine, but she knows her mother wouldn’t want her to wallow away.

She hops on the next available train: 2 pm. Hardly anyone is on it seeing as it’s the middle of the day, and she welcomes the quiet. Too much of this time of year is filled with clamor.

The train ride takes 20 minutes, and she’s in town. The same town she goes to for everything. Except today, mixes of red, green and gold are intertwined around her favorite shops. She thinks it looks beautiful, enchanting even.

She stares up at the towering pine tree in the middle of the outdoor shopping center, and her memories engulf her. Scenes of her mother getting excited to pull out the Christmas tree and ornaments from the attic, dusting the boxes and bins off as she simmers a large pot of her famous hot cocoa on the stove.

The sudden shove of a shoulder sends Holly back to present day.

“Why is she standing in the way?” A woman huffs under her breath.

Holly watches as the distance between them gets further and further, her tears falling as hard as a fervent snow storm.

A man walks by, and Holly moves away from the tree as not to disturb him too.

He tells Holly she doesn’t have to move, but her mind is locked on the woman.

“How could she be so heartless.” Holly thinks.

“Excuse me, miss?” The man is still there. Holly thought he would’ve been gone by now, hustling just like the rest of them.

Holly doesn’t bother to wipe away her tears. She’s learn to let them flow. Otherwise, they’ll never go away. Besides, she’ll never see this man again, and did he really deserve the courtesy of her put togetherness if he was just going to be rude to her?

She braces for impact like she did before. She’s gotten good at surviving.

“Are you okay?”

Holly is stunned, mouth hanging and tears so uncontrollable that all she sees is the silhouette of the man.

His deep, aged voice vibrates again, sending a calm over her.

“I’m here for you.”

Those were the words her mom used when Holly would come to her with a problem, big or small. And after they talked it out, her mom always wrapped her in a hug. The perfect hug: not too tight but secure enough to know her words carried weight.

And now this man was saying those same words.

Holly wipes and wipes at her face, tears still falling, until she’s brushing them away like a windshield wiper as they come. Every time she wipes, she sees the man. He looks to be in his mid fifties, twenty years her senior. But unlike the woman, everything about him is kind. And when he embraces her, she lets him.

She doesn’t know how long they stand there, two strangers, hugging. But it’s only once her tears dry up that she lets go.

Her eyes open, readjusting to the daytime light after locking them to close.

The man is gone.

She looks around and around for him, but it’s as if he was never there to begin with.

Holly spends the rest of the day shopping, getting gifts for the few friends and family she’s allowed to remain close.

She rides the train at 6 pm and enters the threshold of her penthouse apartment at 6:30 pm.

Dinner is simple. Quick. She sits quietly at her table for six, the five unused chairs collecting dust that she’ll have to wipe off in a week.

Only half of her pasta is eaten when she gets up from the table. She doesn’t bother to put it into the fridge or clean the dishes in the sink. Sleep hasn’t come easy to her since that day. She knows she’ll have plenty of time to sort that out when insomnia takes over in the next hour or two.

Christmas morning arrives, a full night of rest granted. Holly doesn’t understand how, but there’s this overwhelming sense of peace over her. And then she remembers the man and this sudden glow he embodied.

Holly picks up the phone and calls her sister.

“Holly?!” her sister explodes with elation.

Holly has only kept in touch through letters for the last two years.

“Jane!” Holly cries and cries and cries.

And they cry and cry together.

Then, Holly remembers that day. The day her and Jane got the news that their mother wouldn’t make it. That sickness had taken her. The two said their goodbyes to their mother that same week, not realizing that they were also saying goodbye to each other.

But now, the two of them are facing this together.

“God met me yesterday,” Holly says.

“How so?” Jane asks.

Holly pulls out a chair from her table of six, certain that it won’t be empty for long.

-Jas