Page 2 of The Holiday Exchange
She chuckles. “I sure hope so.”
My mouth is dry and I swallow before responding. “What kind of project are you working on?”
“A set for a Christmas play. Our music teacher is on maternity leave so I volunteered to direct the program for all the second and third graders, even though I’ve never done something like that before and have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.” She pauses to roll her eyes like she’s put out with herself, but she’s still grinning so she must not be too upset about it.
“I picked a script for a musical skit where the kids will beelves in the North Pole and I’m picturing some props to make the stage look fun and festive but also cozy, like Santa’s workshop. Maybe a fireplace, some life-sized nutcrackers, a Christmas tree or two, a couple of huge candy canes, some wooden bins we can fill with wrapped gifts, a gingerbread house big enough for the kids to walk into…”
Her eyes sparkle with barely contained enthusiasm.
“Do you think that’s too ambitious? You can answer honestly. My roommate already told me it’s too much, but I’m open to a second opinion. Especially if you agree with me.”
I shake my head slowly. “It is a lot, but that all sounds doable, depending on how much time you have and what your budget is.”
“The program is in four weeks and the budget is…not huge.”
She names a sum that is basically microscopic relative to all the set pieces she mentioned and I try not to wince.
“Not enough, huh?”
I guess I didn’t keep my face as neutral as I hoped.
“I was afraid of that. It’s not a very big school so the budget is pretty tight. I’m planning to chip in a little myself but, you know, teacher’s salary.” She shrugs like ‘What can you do?’
I change tactics. “Which parts are the most important to you? We can start there if you want.”
She bites her lower lip and stares over my shoulder, thinking. “I really want the fireplace. I can let the gingerbread house go. It would probably be a distraction for the kids anyway. I just thought it sounded neat. Hang on a second, I’ll show you a picture of the fireplace that inspired me.” Pulling a phone from the pocket of her jacket, she swipes it open and taps a few times before turning the screen to face me.
My mind is whirring with ideas and calculations as I study the photo. “That wouldn’t be too bad. You’d just need a sheet of plywood, a couple of two-by-fours, and some paint.”
“Great! And what would I need to put it together? Like, tools, I mean.”
My optimism stutters. I was thinking about how simple this project would be for me, not for someone who I’d be willing to bet does not own nor know how to operate any tools more complicated than a screwdriver.
“I can see by the look on your face that the answer is ‘big expensive tools’,” she quips. “Maybe I could hire someone to make it for me?”
“I could help.” The words are out of my mouth before I have time to really think about what I’m offering. The smile she gives me in response is almost blinding and fills me with both anticipation and low-grade panic.
“Really? That would be great! How much would you charge me?”
“Oh, uh…” See, this is why I talk as little as possible. “Maybe we could do some kind of exchange, so we don’t use all your budget up on labor.”
She cocks her head, her brows drawing together and creating a little furrow of concentration between her eyes as she considers this.
“What kind of exchange? I’m not sure what I can help you with unless you have a second-grader who needs some tutoring.” Again with the smile. She’s got to be one of the most likable, friendly people I’ve ever met.
Out of nowhere, it dawns on me what I want from her. “You could teach me how to talk to people.”
She throws her head back and laughs as if I’ve delivered the punchline to a joke. My face heats and my arms instinctively cross over my chest. I shouldn’t have asked. Why can’t I keep my mouth shut today? I feel myself withdrawing, like a hermit crab into its shell.
“Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you?” She scrutinizes my face,sobering. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I think I just hurt your feelings and I sure didn’t mean to.”
I blink, surprised by the sincerity I sense in her apology. “It’s okay, I knew it was silly.”
“No, it’s not. Even if it was, I still shouldn’t have laughed.” Her lips crook up into a chagrined half smile. “I bet you’re realizing that I’m definitely not the right person to help you learn to talk to people now, huh?”
Quite the opposite, actually. Despite the misunderstanding, it only took her about three seconds to realize what had happened and try to make it right. That awareness and ability to say the right thing at the right time is exactly what I would love to be able to do myself.
“I still think you’re the right person. If you don’t think I’m a lost cause.” I duck my chin, unable to meet her eye.