Christmas Card

Brickman Hall seemed quiet with the snow coming down. The sky was dropping a clean coating of white on the sidewalk and bushes as Jerry entered the main door of the dormitory. The paper snowman on the glass rattled slightly as the door completely closed.

The crispness of the December evening became the dusty warmth of the hallway on his face as he unzipped his jacket coming into the lobby. Where the carpet began, the room was furnished as a cozy living room complete with Christmas tree and electric fireplace. Sitting on one of the couches was a couple. A dark and mildly handsome boy was speaking with a studious looking girl with glasses and a red knitted sweater with snowflakes all over it.

One of the resident advisor’s was sitting behind a counter with a textbook taking advantage of the brighter light there. She was completely engrossed.

Jerry turned left down the hall where his friends lived on the first floor. First came George’s room. If he were home, Jerry would be distracted from his boredom. George was good for a long, rambling, good-natured conversation that left him uplifted, but his knock brought no answer at all.

The young man turned from the door to face down the off-white hallway. At this time of evening, Susan was usually in one of the piano practice rooms across the campus, so he passed her door without a pause.

Three more doors down, Jerry knocked again. His friend John answered the door.

“Is David around?” asked Jerry.

“I’m not sure where he is,” replied John yawning. “I’ve been asleep.”

“I’ll find him,” said Jerry. “Thanks.”

Jerry strode to the nearest stairwell and went into the basement where there were more couches, more Christmas decorations and another Christmas tree. It hadn’t taken very long for the decorations to go up after Thanksgiving break.

On the nearest couch was a luxurious blonde nestled into the cushions in a soft-looking sweat suit. She cradled a textbook, but had looked up at his entrance. “Hi,” she said softly, almost shyly.

In a flash, Jerry took in the sight of her. Her form was not flaunted before him, but he could see her elegant proportions. Her clear, unmade up complexion looked as smooth as butter. She was as perfect as any golden girl in his dreams. There was no touch of adolescence about her, but was a vision of youthful womanhood. His arms ached to hold her.

As if half expected, butterflies came alive in his stomach. He couldn’t think of a better moment to ask her to come to the play that was being put on by the fine arts department that weekend. He had used his birthday money sent from home, and bought two tickets hoping against hope to ask her to see it with him.

She cheerfully agreed to go. Then she surprised him. She opened a notebook and handed him an envelope with his name on it. “I’ve wanted to give this to you after the other night.” She then gathered her books and stood up to leave. “I’ll see you Friday, Jerry.”

“Yes,” he said meeting her blue eyes. “Goodbye, Carrie. I’ll see you then.”

He thought of her parting smile, and how it reached up into her eyes to brighten an already shining face. Those eyes revealed a touch of girlish mischievousness that only made her seem lovelier. She was the golden girl who had walked out of his dreams and into his life, and he was becoming a part of her world, too.

He absently walked up the stairs after she had gone and sat in the lobby of the first floor. The couple that had been sitting on the couch by the Christmas tree was gone, so Jerry took that seat closest to the tree.

This was a real tree. The sultry aroma of the pine needles wafted around him reminding him of a Christmas with his Grandmother where he had pilfered pieces of the ribbon candy from the dish on the living room coffee table. He could almost smell the candy; it was such an acute memory. Christmas always seemed to have a wonderful happy smell.

Seeing the envelope still unopened in his hands, Jerry broke the seal. Inside was a handmade card made from typing paper that any student would have. There was a beautifully drawn guitar on the front and inside was a quotation from a popular song. It was a thank you card.

A night or so ago, Jerry had played his guitar for Carrie. He had wanted her to hear the songs he had written. As his friends had joined them, the intimate gathering had become almost a private concert. It had been such a merry evening. Now he was glad that Carrie had obviously enjoyed it very much.

* * *

He held her hand during the play. Even her hand was perfect. Her skin was just as smooth as he had thought; her fingers supple and the pads like silk. Each nail on each finger was perfectly shaped though unpolished. His thumb gently and slowly caressed back and forth as his fingers were entwined with hers.

After the play, he walked along the sidewalk with her; their gloved and mittened hands clasped once again. The Christmas lights and the sight of a decorated tree in each of the windows of the lit up houses across the street provided a romantic glow. They drank hot chocolate together at the student union before he walked her back to Brickman Hall.

She smiled and thanked him for a wonderful evening and went inside.

Jerry walked across the campus to his own bed with such a warmth inside that he would have been surprised to feel his wind-chilled cheeks.

It was the next afternoon that found him walking hand in hand with Carrie once again. She had never been overly chatty, but today she was quiet. When they were several blocks from the campus, she turned to him. Her eyes told him to listen closely.

She gently told him she didn’t want them to be known as a couple. She didn’t want to be his girlfriend.

All of his hopes and dreams of her collapsed inside him, leaving nothing but a heavy ache. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to convince her otherwise, so he said, “I guess I will let you go.”

Jerry didn’t know how he ended up back on campus. All he could think of was the line from the movie where Humphrey Bogart talked about having a comical look on his face because his guts had been kicked out.