I think of Eileen’s sad pink Christmas tree and begin to argue that my spirit level is satisfactory when he adds, “My holiday magic is yours for the using until you’re adequately filled with spirit of your own, remember.”
I close my mouth. Turn his words over in my mind.
“Your holiday magic... is mine for the using? Mine? As in, I wish for something and you just make it happen?”
My mind wipes blank, like a giant white void. Then it begins to fill up—with Alexander McQueen jumpsuits and five-thousand-dollar shoes, and canapés, and an upgraded phone. I envision the Watsons’ Christmas tree hidden behind boxes and boxes of presents I can’t afford.
“I’m so pumped,” he’s chattering. “Been dreaming about getting an opportunity to try out some really neat stuff forages! And by ages, I mean literally since the Neolithic period, when I was commonly referred to as the Spirit of Winter Solstice; then later on, Yule. Some have even called me a winter god. Before I was Hall, short for Holiday, I was Hall, short for Holly King.” He puffs out his chest at this. “A long time ago, holiday spirits were allowed to come and go physically from our plane of existence to yours, but it ended up being too chaotic and that’s why the legislation was introduced. Spirits would come to earth and start feeling differently about their role—they’d start to reconsider who they were, then become confused about what they wanted or who they were.Or, they’d go overboard in their magic-spreading, and that’s how you ended up with flying reindeer, which at one point was the shenanigans of some overexcited spirit. I’ve personally never mingled physically with humans before, but ever since I learned about the legislation’s typo, I’ve been hoping and waiting for someone to activate it. I think I could make great strides here, providing joy.”
“Is that your purpose or something?”
“Exactly. Before I came here, I was just floating around as an incorporeal mass of pure joy, shining down on the world and making the humans I passed over feel joyful, too. But now I can really getin there, you know?”
“How long are you going to be down here ‘providing joy’?”
“For as long as you need it.”
“And how will you know when I no longer need it?”
He shrugs. “Not sure yet. I think I’ll know when I know. Your holiday spirit is a miserably low one point five out of ten on the Holiday Scale.”
“Listen, you. I’m a ten at everything.”
“If your number stays low,” he continues, “then I could end up hanging around here forever.”
A forever filled with Valentino handlebags. No one will be able to accuse me of Photoshopping my lifestyle ever again. “You’re right, I’m super miserable. Let’s get started on the holiday magic right away.”
I need to cast about a billion and one wishes, then find a way to get rid of him. I cannot be responsible for this man-shaped mass of sugar who was probably created in a Brach’s candy laboratory. I’ll use him for my own ends, and then we can see about forever.
Hall has transformed the left half of my fridge into a snow cone machine and is fixing himself a snow cone with toppings that absolutely do not go with it: fudge sauce, a banana, and sprinkles. He’s in a whirl of peppermint fog, shimmering faintly as it curls off his skin. “Being incorporeal has its benefits, but I do so enjoy inhabiting a body. A human male body. Who knew I would have such an amazing human male body? I did. This is what I’ve always imagined I would look like.”
I run an assessing gaze up and down him.
It feels wrong to find him attractive, so I’m trying not to. It’s like eyeing a Keebler elf with seductive intentions. He’s soniceand sopure, a glowing unicorn untainted by all that is crass and vulgar about the world. I’m practically a demon in comparison, which you’d think would prompt me to take it easy on him. But instead, it’s really bringing out the demon. I find myself wanting to say inappropriate things just to see what his expression will do. All of my worst impulses are running amok.
Maybe I can see how my spirit might be a one point five.
“I’ve got it, Bettie, and I amflauntingit. The organ function. The blood, I have so much of it. It’s exhilarating to be so full of blood. I could eat ten fried potato towers in a row if I wanted to, but I won’t, because I listened to a radio report on amino acids while you were unconscious today and I’ve got so many amino acids to catch up on. We’re going to have a ball together, you and I. Imagine! We can design snowball cannons, we can put twinkly lights up on people’s houses and surprise them. We can go caroling in all fifty U.S. capitals. Montgomery! Juneau! Phoenix! Little Rock! Sacramento! Denver! Hartford!”
He runs through all the state capitals, and when he’s finished, he gets started on every tourist attraction along Route 66.
*
Chapter Three
Countdown to Christmas:
10 Days
THIS ONE. MAKEmy wish come true.”
Hall skims the real estate listing. “A sale for this house is pending. I’d rather not take it away from the new owner.”
Hearing that someone is buying a house that used to be mine stings, but I won’t show it. Hall is a mirror for emotions and if I start to cry, so will he. “Fine. If I can’t havethathouse, we’ll just create a new one. An even better one. Can you do that?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“I want five bedrooms, at least two of them masters, and six bathrooms. At least five thousand square feet. I want a guest house, an infinity pool, a spa, and marble everything. Marble floors, marble countertops, a marble terrace. Make that two marble terraces. One of those massive water feature rock walls in the living room, with backlights. Open-floor-plan kitchen and living area, and I want it so big that it echoes. Ithasto be oceanfront.”
