Chapter Fourteen
Gunnar
Date night, and Vaughn and I were going to seeIt’s a Wonderful Lifeon the big screen. One of the local theaters was known for having eclectic films. This Christmas season, they’d tried something new. Every week, they rotated in a different Christmas classic. I wouldn’t sayIt’s a Wonderful Lifewas my favorite of all Christmas movies, but it was fun, and they were going to add chocolate-peppermint popcorn and hot chocolate to their concession stand, just to make things a little jollier.
When we got there, we learned how popular the film was. Everybody and their brother must’ve thought it was a good idea because the line wrapped around the block. The theater, unlike pretty much every other one in the country, didn’t do online ticket sales or reserved seating. The seven o’clock show sold out just as we entered the building, and we’d need to try again tomorrow or go to the later one. We chose the latter. At least they let us buy the tickets then instead of having to wait.
Vaughn took my hand from my pocket and intertwined our fingers. “What do you think?” he asked. “Grab a quick bite?”
We’d been planning on eating dinner afterward, so I wasn’t hungry, and it sounded like he wasn’t either.
“Let’s just do some window-shopping around here, then,” I suggested. It was a cool part of town with a lot of stores filled with handicrafts, art, or very niche little markets, like one that sold just organic baby clothes and nothing else. We weren’t going to be bored.
As we went from store to store, they all had identical Christmas trees in the window. The exact same ones with the exact same ornaments.
“Who do you think the trees are for?” I asked Vaughn.
“Maybe they have one of those scavenger hunts, where, if you see all the trees, you get a bookmark that says you completed the task, or something fun like that?”
The store clerk must have overheard us because she came right over. “That means we’re one of the centers for Neighbors in December.”
I’d heard the term before, but I didn’t know what it was. She continued, letting us know it was a way of collecting gifts for children, or adults even, who might not have any. We asked if there was a card. I’d heard of businesses having little cards shaped like mittens or angels or trees, where you picked a person’s name and bought them the gifts they wished for. They didn’t. Instead, they had a list of names and items.
“I have a new idea,” Vaughn said.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
He squeezed my hand, and we went outside to look over the list. There were some toys on there, but mostly it was practical items such as clothing, gift cards, those kinds of things.
Vaughn scanned the paper. “Pajamas.”
There was something about the way he said it that told me, even if I didn’t understand why, that this particular item was important to him. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it didn’t really matter. He was constantly doing things for me, and if this was going to make his day better, that’s what we were doing.
“Pajamas it is,” I said.
We had to pass five or six stores before we found one selling pajamas. And when we went inside, we hit the jackpot. Not only did they have the average flannel pajamas people liked to wear this time of year, but they had Christmas pajamas on sale, which meant we could really provide a lot for the project.
I went over to the rack and pulled out ones I thought were cute. There were ones with Christmas trees, a bunch that haddifferent variations of snow or snowmen, and penguins. And then there was one that was covered with Santas.
“Look at this one,” I said, holding it out to him.
Vaughn’s eyes…they were broken, and it just hurt to see his emotion so raw. I didn’t know what the exact memory he had was, but I’d put money it was about his late little, Bron. How I wished I could take that hurt away.
“Do you want me to put it back?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Bron would like that we’re giving people his favorite pajamas.”
And that explained everything to me. The pajamas with Santa Claus were a good memory, but even the best could remind a person of what they’d lost.
I walked straight to the front counter. “Can you help me find all of these?”
“Sure. What size?”
“All the sizes.”
They tapped away at the keyboard and wrote numbers down. “Let me go to the back room first, and then we’ll find the ones up here.”
They came back with an armload full and then went through the racks, which were arranged by a combination of size and color, depending, apparently, on who was working. I couldn’t find a rhyme or reason to it, but in the end, we left with three large bags of Santa pajamas.
