Pulling the pillow off of her head, Christina forced her eyes to focus on the alarm clock. "Crap," she yawned. It was already past eight; she'd slept late yet again. She had spent most of last night Googling taxation problems to no avail. Dropping her bare feet onto the cold floor, she went into the bathroom. Her eyes winced in the pale light as she took stock of what she saw. As usual, after her Oak Grove vacations, Christina was still a girl. Even without her false breasts in place and with her disheveled morning hair, there was no doubt about it. Her powder blue cotton pj's, which were covered from head to toe with yellow chicks, certainly didn't help her cause. She was in a difficult spot- she would be returning home for Christmas, so she did not have the luxury of getting a haircut. She'd just have to find some way of making herself a convincing boy in the meantime.

        Christina reached out for her toothbrush and noticed large black splotches on her palm. She squinted at her hand and read the list she must have scrawled sometime in the late hours of the night:

        Problems:

        1. Buy Coat

        2. Christmas Shopping

        3. Taxes

        4. Richard - kill him

        Making a to-do list was a good idea, considering she'd forgotten ever writing it down. She studied her palm and wondered how taxes and killing Richard ended up on the bottom of the list.

        Christina committed the list to memory before taking her shower. Afterwards, she towel dried her long hair as she stepped through the mess in her bedroom. She'd let doing laundry slide before Thanksgiving, that is, for her male clothes. Her closet and drawers were filled with perfectly cleaned dresses, skirts, tops, and panties. Most of her male clothes were in a heap on the bedroom floor, right where she'd left them. The look of the room gave the impression that she lived with an incredibly messy boyfriend. "Clean," she thought, inserting that task after "Buy Coat" in her mental to-do list.

        Christina poked through the pile of clothes on the floor looking for the least dirty items. She selected a pair of jeans and a very wrinkled shirt. She also snatched a sweater out of the pile. The sweater would not only hide her wrinkled top, but it might also hide her curves.

         She went back into the pile, searching for a pair of sweat socks and underwear. Socks were easy to find, but clean underwear was another story. She held up a pair of used briefs with a few holes in the back. There was once a time when she would have put them on without thinking, but that was before she had Misha's voice in her mind. Today it was scolding her for living in such a state. Christina tossed the clothes on her bed and went through her drawers, pulling out her least feminine pair of panties. They were simple, white cotton briefs with lace on the leg holes and a bow on the waistband. Telling herself that there was nothing wrong with wearing her own underwear, she stepped into the panties. She was actually glad she had an excuse for wearing panties today. Going back to men's underwear after one of Lucille's waxings was not pleasant.

        After putting on the rest of the garments, Christina rushed back to the bathroom. She sorely missed the full length mirror in her room at home. Making do with her tiny bathroom mirror, she scanned her bottom intently, looking for any signs of panty lines. Convinced she was safe, she focused on her waist. The bulky sweater did a decent job of hiding the damage done by another week of wearing a waist cincher. The only remaining problems were her hair and face. She looked like a girl in boy's clothing; that would simply not do. She pulled her long hair back into a ponytail with a scrunchie and put on her sunglasses. It was better, but still not entirely convincing. She ran to her closet, fetched a wool winter cap, and jogged back to the bathroom. She pulled it tightly onto her head. Better still, but not great. There was no way around it; she'd just have to suffer through a few stares until Christmas.

        "Hey there," she said to the person in the mirror. "Hey," she repeated, forcing herself to speak in a lower voice than usual. It would have to do; she was already late for the train. The last thing she needed was to call even more attention to herself by being the last one into the office.

 

        Chris spent the trip to the office attempting to hide in her oversized leather coat. She'd even gone as far as tucking her hair down the back of the coat in an attempt to disguise herself. She held her head down when she walked into the office. It wasn't that hard to avoid people since so many of her coworkers had left in the past few months. Some had moved on to new jobs and others had been broken by the unreasonably long hours.

        Chris was able to spend her day responding to calls and emails without any real interaction with anyone else in the office. Everyone seemed on edge and took little notice of her. Even Mr. Patel, who rarely showed signs of stress, was rushing from one end of the old factory building to the other carrying stacks of papers and notebooks. Something was going on, and as usual, Chris was out of the loop. She could have easily listened in on the conversations that everyone else was having, but she was just as happy to be invisible.

        She looked at the picture of her family on her desk several times that day. It seemed so unfair that life had given her such wonderful people and simultaneously made everything so damned complicated. She couldn't figure out what she was going to do about her uncle's tax problems. She had no idea how to deal with Richard. She wasn't even sure how she was going to dress herself tomorrow. She felt tossed around; abused by fate. She was a hapless observer in her own life.

        Her entire first week back at work was a repeat of that first day. She did her best to focus on work, and to keep out of sight. On Friday, the entire office cleared out much earlier than usual. Chris was almost the only person left by six o'clock. It was very uncharacteristic for a company that had been making such a huge push for the last six months.

        Chris slid on her sunglasses and made her way quietly to the door. If she left now, she would not only be keeping her promise to her uncle not to work late, but she could also fit in some shopping for a winter coat. She made her way down to the first floor and outside into the brisk cold of the early winter night. She shrank into her oversized leather jacket and pushed through the crowds to the taxi stand. Normally, she would have used the subway, but she didn't feel safe riding underground with her androgynous appearance.

        A short taxi ride later, Chris was standing in front of Macy's. She could have easily gone to the Walmart near her apartment, but she'd survived a very long and hard year, and she decided she had earned a treat. Walking in through the heavy revolving glass door, Christina searched for the women's section. The last time she was in the store had been a few years ago. She'd spent a lot of money on perfume for her ex-girlfriend Amy. It somehow didn't seem strange that she was now shopping there for herself; in fact, it was sort of a rush. Chris had done all of her shopping in Abby's store or online. This was her first shopping trip to a large store where she could try things on in person.

        Finding the outerwear section of the women's department, Chris dove into the racks. Everything was overpriced, but she didn't care. She needed a coat to wear for Christmas, and since she was going to spend so much time in it, it would be criminal to not love it. She found one long black, fur-lined coat that she immediately fell in love with. Thinking no one was looking, she held it up in front of herself in the mirror. She had already pulled three coats off the rack when a salesgirl walked up behind her.

        The salesgirl tapped Chris on the shoulder and asked, "Is there anything I can help you with ... sir?"

        Chris noticed how the trailing "sir" was more of a guess than a certainty. She slid her sunglasses over her eyes and responded in a deep voice, "No thanks, I'm okay."

        "Are you shopping for your ... um ..."

        "Sister," Chris said nervously.

        "Well, if you need anything," she said, pointing to the station by the dressing rooms, "I'll be right over there."

        Chris nodded as the girl left her to her shopping. Chris looked at the beautiful coat that was draped over her arm then dejectedly put it back on the rack and left the store.

        She felt so ashamed. She was so used to being accepted as a girl that she had never expected to be confronted like that. For some reason, the encounter with the salesgirl depressed her terribly. She knew she should spend the night Christmas shopping, but she had to escape.

        As she stepped out onto the sidewalk, she felt as though she would burst into tears at any moment, and she wasn't even sure why. It felt as though she had a stain on her soul.

        Chris resisted the urge to pick up the new Cosmo in the train station and sat quietly in her seat for the entire ride home. She felt a sick feeling in her stomach on the car ride back to her apartment. There was just no winning. Events had conspired against her to make it necessary for her to act as a girl. Just as life was plotting against her on one hand, it was making sure that she couldn't just be a girl, either. Her formerly simple life had turned into a perilous balancing act.

        Once back in her apartment, she gazed at the mess. This happened every time she went away; everything took a back seat to getting ready for her trips.

        Christina thought about her Aunt Misha, and how she always kept her house spotless. With all the things that felt out of control in her life, her apartment was perhaps the only thing she had authority over. She went into the bedroom and pulled off her sweater. Rummaging through a drawer, Christina pulled out a paisley bandana and tied back her hair. She began to pick up her male clothes and piled them into a laundry basket. Every inch of floor she uncovered made her feel a little better about the coat incident.

        Two loads of laundry, and hours later, Christina found that her enthusiasm was only growing. She'd washed all the windows, dusted her few pieces of furniture, and even arranged all of her magazines by date on the bookshelf. All of Misha's lessons were finally paying off. Christina felt as if she were beginning to understand her aunt. She was physically cleaning her apartment, but it felt as though she was getting her life under control.

        It was almost eleven o'clock by the time Christina dragged her last load of laundry up from the basement. She felt exhausted, but it was a good exhaustion. She started folding her clothes, stacking them away neatly. When every piece of clothing was gone from the laundry basket, Christina changed into a pair of luxurious purple satin pajamas. Falling backward onto her hard bed, she pulled a pillow over her eyes.

        Christina thought back to her conversation with Misha on her first trip to Oak Grove. Her car had been trashed, and there was absolutely no hope that anything could be done to save her job. Misha had told her to have faith, even though everything felt out of control. She didn't understand how anyone could be expected to have faith when everything in the world was obviously wrong.

        Once again, Christina's life felt out of control. She didn't know how she was going to save the family grocery store. She didn't know whether she could go on being a girl for her family. Still, Misha was right about a lot of things, even if Christina didn't understand why. She was definitely right about how cleaning your apartment can clean the cobwebs out of your mind. Maybe she was right about faith as well. Christina closed her eyes and tried to picture a better day tomorrow. A day when all her problems would just work themselves out. A day without embarrassment, confusion, or despair. For just a moment, she thought it was even possible.

 

        Chris walked into work on Monday filled with hope and confidence. It was a wonderful feeling to start the day in crisp, clean clothes, to catch the early train, and carrying a feeling that everything was going to work out. Chris was one of the first people in the office. She sat down in her area, pulled off her sunglasses, and went to work responding to customer emails. She'd responded, in detail, to each and every inquiry before she moved on to bug fixes in the eCommerce product. After checking out the latest revision of the code, she started investigating the first problem in the issue tracking system. Chris was so engrossed in her work that she didn't notice that many of the cubicles in the office were still empty by eleven o'clock.

        "Chris," Mr. Patel called from behind.

        Chris swiveled in her chair to face Mr. Patel. She was so engrossed in the code that she didn't realize her boss was standing behind her.

        "Yes Mr. Patel?" she asked.

        "We're having a meeting in twenty minutes in the glass conference room."

        "Okay, I'll be there."

        Mr. Patel nodded then walked away. He looked agitated about something, but he'd had that same look for the past four months, Chris thought. It didn't matter; Chris felt as though nothing could bring her down today. She plodded along, writing some tests for a few tricky border cases, barely noticing the time slipping by. She realized the meeting was about to start only when she saw the few other people in the office making their way to the conference room.

        Chris saved her work, grabbed a notepad, and hurried off behind everyone else. The glass walled room was filled with every single person in the office. Chris, the last one in, shuffled her way to the back of the room and leaned against the wall.

        Seeing that everyone had arrived, Mr. Patel rose to address the group. "Everyone," Mr. Patel began, "I want to start by saying that Edward and I could not be more pleased with all the great work you've done. We could not have asked for a better, more dedicated group of people to work with. You've all put in extra hours, and you've all made sacrifices. If I haven't made it clear in the past, I want to make it clear right now just how much we appreciate it. That's what makes this so hard to say. I know most of you are aware of the conference call yesterday, and I can confirm that any rumors you might have heard are true. Our investors did not come through with another round of funding. I'm afraid that as of tomorrow, we're closing our doors."

        Chris looked around the room in shock. She seemed to be the only one who didn't see this coming. She'd been so focused on not drawing attention to herself last week that she missed what was going on right in front of her.

        "This is not to say that we won't be reopening next year. Edward and I are still trying very hard to get more funding for the first quarter. If we can manage it, we'll hire back as many of you as possible. I wish I had better news. For now, we have to lay you all off. I feel as though I've let you down. If there is anything I can do, a reference ... anything, please come see me today. We'll be handing out your final paychecks in a few minutes. Feel free to use the rest of the day anyway you wish."

        Chris' mind was reeling. She was now unemployed. Mr. Patel's partner, Edward Manning, stood up to say a few words, but Chris didn't hear any of them. Before, she had been worried about how she was going to save her family. Today, she wasn't even sure how she was going to take care of herself. She had been living largely paycheck to paycheck. She had no idea how she was going to pay her rent after Christmas. Chris felt a strange numbness. She was aware of what was happening, but there was no feeling associated with it. It wasn't real ... not yet anyway.

        Chris followed everyone else as they shuffled listlessly back to their cubicles. Many people simply left. Others were starting on their resume. Chris sat down at her desk and pulled up the code she'd been working on. Her first inclination was to get back to work, but she couldn't see what good that would do. There was an envelope with her name on it, sitting on her desk. She opened it and pulled out her last paycheck. She read it four times before the reality of the situation began to sink in. She folded the check and put it into her pocket. She then committed her changes to the code and shut down her computer. Looking around the area, she saw that others were having a similar reaction. Chris put on her leather jacket and hid behind her sunglasses. There was no reason to stay. She took her picture of her family off of her desk and shoved it into her backpack. Moments later she was on the street and walking uptown. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she had to get away from the building.

        How far had she walked? Two miles? Four? She wasn't sure. Seeing a branch of her bank up ahead, she walked in and waited patiently for an ATM. Chris signed the back of her last paycheck, her hand trembling slightly. Once she slid the check into the machine, the situation felt unbearably real. She wanted to call someone, but who could she possibly call? She couldn't call her uncle. If he knew that she'd lost her job, he would freak out. She couldn't burden Andrei or Nina with the news either. Calling Steph might be an option. Steph had called her on Tuesday to fill her in on all the gruesome details of her latest date with Andrei. Steph would understand, but if Chris told her anything that important, it would certainly find its way to Andrei, and eventually her aunt and uncle.

        Taking her receipt from the machine, Chris pushed her way through the line of people waiting behind her. She wandered until she found an entrance to the subway system. It was a long ride through the crowded tubes to the train station. Over an hour and a half later she was back at home.

        It was only four-thirty. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten home so early. She had no idea what to do with herself. She couldn't clean her apartment; she'd already given it the most thorough cleaning imaginable last night.

        Christina took off her clothes, letting them drop on the floor around her and walked into the bathroom. She stepped into the bathtub and took a long, hot shower to clear her head. All of her troubles raced through her mind at the speed of light. How was she going to solve her uncle's tax problems? What was she going to do for money? How could she even keep seeing her family? She couldn't keep up her masquerade forever. Soon, she wouldn't even be able to afford to take the bus. The entire situation was unsustainable.

        Stepping out of the shower, Christina wrapped a large, fluffy towel around her chest. She tiptoed into the living room, her hair still dripping wet, and sat on her tattered couch. Taking the phone off the receiver, she dialed her uncle's number. A lump formed in her throat as she waited for someone to answer. She had managed not to cry all day, and she continued to fight.

        "Hello?" Misha asked as she picked up the phone.

        "Hi Aunt Misha," Christina said, unable to prevent a few tears from escaping down her cheek.

        "Tina!" her aunt gushed, "It is so good to hear your voice."

        "Hey, I was wondering ... I think I can get more time off work than I thought. Is it okay if I come home early?" Christina pulled a tissue out of a box on the end table and blew her nose.

        "Of course child," Misha said with concern in her voice. "You can come home any time you wish."

        "I'll be there a week from tomorrow, if that's okay."

        "Tina, is something wrong dear?"

        "No," Christina lied, "I've just got a cold is all."

        "Are you sure, Tina?" Misha asked shrewdly.

        "Yeah. Everything's fine. I'm sorry, I can't really talk right now, I gotta go do the dishes."

        "Alright dear. We will see you soon."

        Christina said goodbye to her aunt and hung up the phone. Wiping the tears from her face, she went over to her computer desk to make a plan. She took out a pad of paper and wrote down the list she'd washed off her hand last week.

        Problems:

        1. Taxes

        2. Coat

        3. Christmas Shopping

        4. Kill Richard

        She scribbled out "Kill Richard" and replaced it with the much friendlier phrase, "Deal with Richard." She then added two more problems to the list:

        5. Find a Job

        6. Being Christina Chase

        She went down the list with her pen. Item number two was easy; tomorrow she'd head into the city and buy her coat. She knew she shouldn't spend a lot of money on a coat now that she was unemployed, but this was going to be a special Christmas, and she wanted to look her best. Besides, if she didn't solve her job problems, not buying the coat wouldn't buy much time.

        Item number three, "Christmas Shopping," was also easy to solve. She now had all of next week to find gifts for her family. The one up side of losing her job was she could spend all day looking for the perfect items.

        "Taxes," Christina read aloud. She still didn't know what to do about that one. She could talk to an accountant, but she didn't have all the information she assumed she would need. Also, it was probably illegal to go through someone else's records, even if they were family. She wrote a large question mark next to that one.

        Deal with Richard. Christina wasn't sure about this one either. If only she'd kissed him and been done with it! She would have to find some way to get it through to him that she wasn't interested. That one would have to wait, too.

        Find a Job. Christina had infrequently looked at job postings online. She never found anything she felt comfortable submitting a resume to. That was going to have to change. She'd just have to try anything. The worst thing anyone could tell her was, "no." In the meantime, she could take a job at a Walmart or a McDonald's. It wouldn't pay the rent, but it would be something until she found a better job. Christina circled that item and jotted down some ideas she could pursue after Christmas.

        The last problem was the hardest one to confront- Being Christina Chase. Christina had grown accustomed to being a girl. It was the only way she could see her family. Not only that, but the more she did it, the more natural it seemed to feel. Reflecting on the past year, all of her happiest moments were because of being Christina Chase. Some of the worst moments too, she admitted. Putting her pen to the paper, she hesitated. Christina knew what the solution was, but it was difficult to say or write. She tensed the muscles in her hand, and the pen wrote ... "Stop."

        That was the only solution- to stop being Christina Chase. Christmas would be her last trip to Oak Grove. She didn't know how she was going to tell her family. She didn't want to focus on how she would break it to them. Christina's eyes welled up at the thought of losing her family. What was important right now, was having the best Christmas that she could possibly have. The memory would have to last a lifetime.

        Disposing of Christina Chase, she thought, would also solve the Richard problem as well. He couldn't pursue her, if she didn't exist. It was a case of two birds with one stone. It was the perfect solution, though it didn't give Christina any comfort.

        Shoving the notepad aside, Christina turned on her computer. She pulled up the website for the bus company and purchased a round trip ticket to Dover. Next, she viewed the balance in her checking account. Things were going to be tight. Money didn't really matter, she thought. She was going to make this Christmas magic; what happened afterwards, was unimportant.

        Christina spent the rest of the night jotting down ideas and window shopping online for Christmas gifts. By seven o'clock, she had a list of potential gifts for everyone except her uncle. She wasn't sure what she could get for him. It had to be something that showed how much she loved him, and also something that would remind him of her long after she had disappeared. Whatever that perfect gift was, it didn't come to her that night.

 

        The next day, Christina stood in front of the checkout counter in Macy's and smiled at the salesgirl. "I don't need a bag," Christina said, "I'm going to wear it out." The woman behind the counter handed the receipt to Christina, and she put it into her purse. Taking the long black coat off the counter, Christina put it on. She savored the feeling of the fur lining.

        "You have a great day," the girl behind the counter called as Christina left the store.

        "Thanks!" Christina called back. "Have a Merry Christmas!"

        Christina pushed through the heavy, revolving door in the front of Macy's and walked out into the windy streets. She loved the feeling of her new coat. She wasn't sure going shopping dressed as a girl had been a good idea, but it was the only thing that made sense. She was free to try things on, ask questions, or do anything else she wanted. She could have had her coat last week if she'd had only thought to go shopping as Christina Chase. She stopped and admired her reflection in a shop window. It seemed foolish to spend so much money on her coat considering she would never wear girls' clothes again in three weeks. Still, if you're going out, she thought, why not go out in style?

        Christina spent the rest of the week shopping for her family. Finding Nina's gift was easy; Christina had already decided Nina was getting jeans. That was solved by a trip to the Gap. She purchased two pairs of flared jeans that she thought would look great on her cousin.

        Andrei was another easy gift. She went to the Home Depot in town and purchased a battery-powered electric drill. She'd been to the Home Depot many times before, but this was the first time that anyone had ever offered to help her. She was grateful for the assistance too. She explained that her cousin did a lot of woodworking, and he was still using old-fashioned, hand-powered drills. The man at the store knew exactly what would be a good fit for Andrei. When Christina saw the complexity of all the types of drill bits and accessories, she realized just how much Steph liked Andrei. She couldn't imagine anyone memorizing all that information just to talk to a boy.

        Christina even found time to buy a gift for Boris. She bought, what she assumed, must have been some sort of elephant bone. She couldn't imagine anything that large coming out of a cow.

        Misha was a much harder person to shop for. Christina wanted to find something special and personal. She was certain it had been her aunt's idea to give her the photo album for her birthday; it was just the sort of thing Misha would think of. Christina went from store to store, agonizing over sweaters and scarves. She looked at perfumes, paintings, electronic gadgets; nothing seemed right. None of these things had any value to her aunt. The perfect idea came to Christina while she was standing in front of a bakery shop in the cold city night. She saw all the wonderful cakes and pastries through the frosty display window, and immediately rushed to the bookstore across town.

        Christina hurried out of her cab and into the store with only minutes left before they closed for the night. She waved to the boys behind the registers to indicate that she knew exactly what she needed. Jogging in her heels up the escalator to the third floor, she went to the far back corner and quickly examined all of the shelves. The back corner was the area where they stocked writing journals and pens. She searched frantically, looking for something that approximated the image in her mind.

        Her eyes lit up when she saw the expensive leather-bound writing journal nestled in the shelves. It was dark brown with intricate flower designs raised on the cover. Christina flipped through the crisp, blank white pages and smiled. It was perfect. Before rushing back downstairs, she grabbed an inexpensive calligraphy pen.

        The boy behind the counter looked annoyed, but he was relieved that Christina had not taken long, just as she had promised. He rang her up, and Christina rushed out the door to hail a cab. She checked the large clock on one of the billboards; she had only a few minutes to get to the train station. Every cab seemed to be occupied. She threw her hand up desperately at every yellow blur that sped past. Minutes later, a cab stopped.

        "Darn it!" Christina complained as she stepped out of the cab and rushed down the stairs into the Salt Mine. She would have normally had much harsher words, but she felt inhibited from cursing whenever she was in girl's clothing. Squinting at the illuminated schedule, she confirmed that she'd missed yet another train. She would be stuck at the station for almost an hour.

        Christina glanced up and down the platform looking for any distraction. Hoisting her heavy bags off the ground, she dragged herself through the poorly lit station and into a convenience store. It dawned on her that she'd spent the entire day shopping and hadn't had a thing to eat since breakfast. Looking around the pastry case, Christina saw a large cinnamon muffin, and her mouth watered. Though she was no longer on any sort of strict diet, she'd been doing her best to avoid anything like that muffin. Her magazines had warned her about the sins of carbohydrates. She didn't care. It was late, she was stranded, and that muffin was coming home with her. She asked the attendant for the muffin, and placed a small bottle of water on the counter. After paying for her distractionary dinner, she headed back out into the station. Christina walked all the way down to the far side and out to the platforms on the waterfront.

        Sitting on a deserted bench, Christina munched on her forbidden muffin. She thought she saw something moving in the dark under the railing separating her from a pile of scrap metal and refuse that was stacked behind the station offices. She watched intently and saw the gleam of two tiny eyes and a skinny worm-like tail. She could barely make out the silhouette of the tiny mouse, but she was certain it was there. She nervously looked around to see whether anyone was watching. Convinced that she was not being observed, she broke off a piece of her muffin top and tossed it in the mouse's direction. It fell inches short of the railing, landing in the bright light of one of the station lamps. The mouse initially fled, but eventually returned to his former position.

        "Go on, Mr. Mouse!" Christina whispered encouragingly. She grinned when she saw the tiny pink nose cautiously probe from out of the darkness. The mouse paced back and forth, unwilling to venture into the light to get his free meal.

        Christina jumped back slightly, as did the mouse, when two hulking boots crossed her field of vision. She looked up and saw an orange-vested station worker trudge past. When the man had gone, Christina looked for the mouse. She felt guilty that she hadn't landed the crumbs in the darkness; she knew that if one of the workers saw the mouse, the poor thing would assuredly be stomped.

        Moments later, she saw the tiny pink nose emerge again and wiggle. Christina looked back up the platform, keeping a lookout for any other people. She heard a scampering noise and saw the mouse out of the corner of her eye. She looked back at him and was struck by the sight. He stood there, hunched over with his morsel clutched between his two hands. The poor thing was thin and tired. He tasted the muffin piece a few times then quickly carried it back into the warmth of the scrap pile. Christina wondered how any creature could stand to live in such a condition. If she were the mouse, she would have seized the food without reservation; after all, what did he really have to lose?

        Another pair of heavy boots stole Christina's focus. These, however, did not belong to a station worker, they were attached to a very large and intimidating man wearing a threadbare parka and a pair of oil stained jeans. She looked fearfully into his eyes, and a shot went through her spine as the man's eyes lingered on her. Turning her face aside, Christina monitored the man with her peripheral vision until he was some distance away. Christina opened her purse and clutched her cell phone. All of a sudden, the waterfront bench felt like a very frightening place to be sitting alone. She hoisted her bags and walked back into the sparsely inhabited station to wait for her train.

        She wanted to call her uncle, but she couldn't call the man every time she felt scared. Though talking to her uncle always made her feel better, she knew calling the man only reinforced his assumption that she was unfit to live in the city on her own. Still, she clutched her phone none the less. It was reassuring to know her uncle was only a speed dial away.

 

        Two hours later, Christina pulled into the dirt driveway behind her apartment building. Not only had she missed the first train, but the later train was running ten minutes behind schedule. Her feet pounded against the frozen dirt of her driveway, the bags stretching her hands closer and closer to the ground. She struggled to get her bags up the six flights of stairs to her apartment. She ascended the last flight by hoisting her bags to each successive step, one at a time. She resisted the temptation to dump her bags carelessly onto the floor when she got inside her apartment.

        Christina had found a gift for everyone except her uncle. With only two more days remaining before she had to leave for home, she hoped it was enough time to find the perfect gift. She changed into a pair of cozy flannel pajamas and hopped into bed. Tomorrow she would just have to start again.

 

        When Christina awoke the next morning, she didn't even bother making breakfast or taking a shower. Walking barefoot into the living room, she grabbed the bag containing Misha's journal and took it into the kitchen. She rifled through a disorderly stack of notes, ragged loose-leaf pages, and clippings, and shoved them all into the bag. Returning to her bedroom, she sat on her stiff mattress and poured all the contents into a pile in front of her. She placed the journal and the calligraphy pen to one side and concentrated on the papers. Each paper contained a recipe that Misha had taught her at home or sent to her in the mail. She read each piece of paper and categorized them into piles of related topics. She barely had room left on her bed when she was done stacking.

        Christina wanted to show her aunt how grateful she was for everything the woman had taught her. Her idea was a simple one: she was going to transcribe every single recipe into the book in front of her and present it to her aunt.

        Taking the calligraphy pen, Christina practiced writing out the first recipe on the back of one of her scraps. She practiced writing the recipe nine times before she felt confident enough to write it into the journal. Writing deliberately and cautiously, she made great efforts to keep all the text aligned with unseen margins. It took her several minutes to fill the first page. She noticed that unlike a ballpoint pen, the ink on the page took a long time to settle and dry. She started practicing the next recipe while the first was still drying. This was going to be a long and tedious task, but she knew her aunt would appreciate something she'd put her heart into more than anything she could ever buy in any store.

        She finally took a break around two in the afternoon to make herself a sandwich. She'd been at work all morning, and she had only dented the surface. This was a bigger job than she imagined, and she cursed herself for not thinking of the idea days earlier. At least working on the book kept her mind off her uncle.

        She couldn't conceive of any gift that was good enough for him. She should be back in the city shopping furiously, she thought. She reflected on that and realized that any shopping trips would be futile unless she had even an inkling of what to shop for.

        Christina worked into the late hours of the night, never once stopping to get dressed. When she could no longer keep her eyes open, she relented and went to sleep. As soon as she woke up the next day, she went right back to work on the cookbook. By nine that night, she was finished. She'd spent the entire day transcribing recipes, stopping only for food, and to pack her bags for her trip in the morning. Once the last page had dried, Christina flipped though the book to admire her work. It was a masterpiece, but she didn't feel satisfied. She'd spent her last days working on Misha's present and she still had nothing to give to her uncle.

        After wrapping Misha's book, she stacked it in the pile in the living room with all the other gifts. She felt exhausted; it was getting late and there weren't enough hours left in the day to start anything else. Out of time, she thought dejectedly. Completely out of time.

        A flash of inspiration struck, and she wondered, could it be done? Was it even possible? Still in her pajamas from the day before, she rushed to her bedroom closet. Standing on the tips of her toes, She shoved aside the boxes and clothes on her top shelf. She reached back as far as she could and felt into the darkness with the ends of her fingers. She pressed down tightly and pulled the old shoe box forward until it was near enough to grab with her hands. As she held the box in her arms, she wondered, could it really work? She wasn't sure, but she had no options left. She carried the box to the pile of gifts and deposited it there, unwrapped. There was nothing she could do now; she would just have to take her chances when she got home.

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Edited into coherence by Holly H. Hart.
Thanks to Sephrena Miller for taking an early read.
Hope you enjoyed it. If you liked it or hated it, please leave a tasty comment.
Krunch Away!