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Sam sat at his desk, swivelling side to side in his chair. Adaline sat opposite him, attempting to work at her desk. She could see over Sam’s shoulder through the blinds of the captain’s office, Charlie’s back, carefully still. The muffled voice of their captain, Jon Osborne, spoke loud and firm. Sam’s chair squeaked, drawing Adaline’s attention to him, and she slammed her pen on the desk.
“What is up with you?” she snapped.
“I’m going to tell her.” Sam grinned widely, playing with his pen.
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m going to tell her.” Sam’s eyes flickered towards her, a manic energy threatening to break through the surface of his smiling face.
“Really?” Adaline said bluntly.
“Ye have little faith, sweet, sweet Adaline.”
“Sorry, I think I need to go to the bathroom to throw up. Maybe in there I’d actually get some work done.”
“I’m not distracting you.” Sam said.
Adaline imitated the sound of his chair squeaking.
“Okay fine, I’ll stop moving.” Sam stopped, and the muffled voice of their captain filled the air. Charlie remained completely still, through the blinds.
“She’s being awfully quiet.” Adaline said.
“Just wait. I’d give it any second now.” Sam said.
As Sam motioned with his hand, they heard Charlie’s muffled voice cut through her captain’s. Without hearing any of the actual dialogue exchanged, Adaline and Sam looked at each other, smiling.
“He probably deserves it.” Sam said.
“We’ll buy her a round of drinks tonight?”
“I think he’ll need it more, but sure.”
Adaline leaned forward. “What are you getting her for Christmas?”
Sam leaned forward. He hesitated. “I have a plan.”
“Oh my god, you’ve got nothing?!” Adaline raised her voice.
“Shut up!” Sam said through gritted teeth. “I have a plan.” He glanced back at the captain’s office, before continuing. “JB Hi Fi is having a Christmas sale. I’m going to buy her a vinyl – a jazz vinyl, maybe Sinatra, and then while its playing, I’ll be like, ‘hey, wanna go out?’ and it’ll be really romantic.”
Adaline stared at him. “‘Hey, wanna go out?’ Are you in high school?”
“See this kind of negativity is why it hasn’t happened yet.” Sam turned his body to his computer, facing his shoulder towards her.
“Negativity? I’m helping you avoid being slapped in the face.” Adaline pushed her chair to face him once more.
“Well then how should I do it?” Sam spat.
“Just ask her. Nothing big or fancy, you don’t need romantic music.”
“Ask her? With nothing going for me but a handsome face?” Sam stroked his face.
“Boohoo.”
“Okay, if I ask her out on Christmas, can that be my Christmas present to her? I mean we said we weren’t going to get each other anything anyway—”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You are hopeless.”
“Who’s hopeless?” Charlie stood behind Sam, her face blushed and stern. They hadn’t noticed she had slipped through the door of the captain’s office, her meeting finished. The captain’s blinds were now drawn shut.
“I am. Hopeless. In love, really.” Sam looked at Adaline. She glared back. “That’s what we were talking about.” He smiled at Charlie.
“With that face?” Charlie sighed dramatically.
“It’s a tragedy really.” Sam said.
“I’ll be in the bathroom.” Charlie strode down the hallway, Sam gazing after her.
“Hopeless. In love, really.” Adaline mocked. Sam put his face in his hands. “Riddle me this, Samuel Ferris, are you hopeless in love, or hopelessly in love?” Adaline picked her pen back up to look at her reports.
“I’m going to get her a present so divine she’ll have to go out with me.” Sam said, steadfast.
“She doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.” Adaline said sternly.
Sam hesitated. “I’m going to get her a present so divine she’ll have no choice but to make her own choice about whether or not she wants to go out with me.”
“Much better.”
***
Sam walked the mall. Shops on either side of him beckoned him in – perfume stores, jewellery stores, Victoria Secret (‘definitely not’, Adaline’s voice said in his head). He got on an escalator downwards, hoping to find a special shop called ‘Charlie’ that sold only the best presents specifically for her. As he walked past a T2, he decided to get a whopping $6 black coffee from the nearest coffee shop, a pick-me-up. The barista was his age, a blonde woman with the nametag ‘Clarissa’. He struck up a conversation, being her only customer.
“Her name is Charlie. She’s my best friend and yet I’m stuck as to what to get her. It’s like I can barely breathe when I’m around her and yet simultaneously I can only breathe when she’s around.” Sam said.
Clarissa pressed a lid onto his coffee cup. “Go with your gut. It’s about the gesture more than the present itself. Don’t get perishables— food, soap, candles, socks, simple jewellery— unless she’s asked for any of it. And be prepared for if she says no. That’s all I can say.”
Sam sighed. “Thanks, Clarissa.”
“Have a good day.” She nodded at him.
“Have a Merry Christmas.” Sam said intently before walking away, chewing on her advice.
He wandered the arcade aimlessly, and after ten minutes of walking with no destination in sight, he came across Plan A – JB Hi-Fi. ‘Why not,’ he thought.
Sam wandered the aisles of the vinyl collections, looking at the jazz section. A small, hunched, Indian woman looked at the section at the same time, picking out an album by Etta James.
“Excuse me,” Sam said humbly. The woman turned towards him. “Can you help me?”
“I don’t work here.” She turned away, but Sam gently touched her shoulder, activating his charming smile.
“I understand. I just mean that I need someone who knows jazz more than I do to help me pick out an album. It’s for,” Sam hesitated. “Someone I love,”
“Someone you love?” a smile peaked at the corners of her lips.
“Yes. My partner – detective partner. She’s one of the best things in my life, really.” Sam spoke sincerely.
“Well, I know a thing or two about jazz.”
“I was thinking of Frank Sinatra—”
“Ahk.” The woman groaned. “Frankie is good at singing, but he’s not my taste. You want something good, slow, romantic – more black, more heart? You get Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong.” She picked out a vinyl for Sam and gave it to him with shaking hands. Sam gratefully took it. “I like Nat King Cole too. It’s up to you,” she waved her hand and pointed at another album.
“Thankyou so much—”
“Good luck with your lover. You’ve got a handsome enough face.” She pinched his cheek.
“She’s not my lover. Not yet.”
“Yes, she is.” The woman whispered, before shuffling away with her vinyl.
“What was your name?” Sam followed her.
She turned around yet again. “Rose.”
“I’m Sam.” He paused. “Thankyou, Rose.”
She waved him off and continued to shuffle away.
Stood in the aisles, Sam held the two vinyls in his hands. A panic was welling, his heart sinking in his chest. Doubt was filling his stomach, even with the help of a lovely old lady. Quickly, he got out his phone and called Adaline. Upon not picking up, he called her twice more until she finally answered.
“What do you want?” she said bitterly.
“I think I’m panicking. I’m not sure what to get Charlie.” He said mournfully. He had been running around the mall for two hours now. He felt close to crying, which felt silly given this was a simple Christmas gift. The feeling crept up his throat.
“You know her much better than anyone, probably ever.” Adaline sounded quite bothered.
“Well, you sound chipper,” he smiled at a worker who passed him, a ubiquitous gesture that both called for help and pronounced contentment.
“I’m spending my Christmas with family, and I’d like to be left alone by hopeless fools whilst I do.”
“Who’s that? Melissa, the girlfriend?” Sam said. “Hello Melissa, how are you!” He shouted into the phone, alarming nearby patrons. He muttered an apology. “Please, Adaline, this has to be perfect.”
“Or what? What will happen?”
“I’ll ruin Christmas.” Sam said melodramatically.
Adaline laughed. “Sam. You are not going to ruin Christmas. You said you were going to get her vinyls – have you got her vinyls? Don’t get her jazz, neither of you like jazz.”
“I like jazz.” Sam said sincerely, looking down at the vinyls.
“You like jazz? When have you ever listened to jazz?”
“Maybe I’ll start. By listening to it with Charlie. This lovely old lady helped pick out two jazz albums and they seem great.”
“Well, sure, there’s your answer, Sam.” Adaline sighed deeply. “Buy the vinyls, tell her how you feel. Don’t play the music at the same time, it’ll put too much pressure on the moment and you won’t end up doing it. Now is that all?”
Despite her blunt and bothered tone, Adaline’s words reached Sam. “Okay. Alright. Thanks. Sorry.”
“Have a Merry Christmas, Sam.” Adaline said.
“Yeah, you too.” Sam said. Adaline hung up. Sam went up to the cashier and bought his items. The panic in his heart subsided, for now.
***
It was Christmas Day. Sam had organised to arrive at Charlie’s after his family’s Christmas lunch was over. He sat in the car outside her house. The gift-wrapped vinyls sat in the passenger seat – his sister had helped him wrap them. He took a deep breath and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, feeling claustrophobic. Unable to muster the courage to move his legs, he got out his phone and called Adaline once more. Four times it went to voicemail before Adaline picked up.
“Count your days, Ferris.” She answered.
“I’m sorry, I just—” he stammered.
“You’re lucky you caught me when I needed a break from my family.” She sighed. “What do you need, Sam?”
“I’m outside Charlie’s right now, about to go in.”
“Okay? Then go in.”
“That’s just it. My legs won’t work.”
Adaline paused over the line. Sam could make out the sound of a long, deep sigh. “Say to yourself right now: are you going to do it or not? There’s no harm in backing out, it’ll probably alleviate your stress.”
“No. It’s been too long. I’m gonna do it.”
“So get up and out of the car.”
“I’m gonna do it. I’m so certain I’m going to do it.”
“Are you?”
“I don’t know. Do you think she likes me?”
“You ask me this now?!”
“Come on!” Sam sat up in his seat.
“I have never heard you sound so pathetic and doubtful, Sam.”
“I haven’t felt this way about someone in a really long time – I’m doubting everything I’m saying and doing constantly, it’s like some irrational force has taken over and made me…” Sam cut himself off. He rested his hand on the steering wheel and slouched into his seat.
Adaline sighed, yet again. “She… Looks at you.”
Sam bolted upright. “She what?”
“She looks at you, sometimes. When you’re not looking. You do it to each other.”
“Are you making that up?”
“Do you really think I would?”
“I’m going in there now.” Sam opened his car door and got out.
“Good for you, Sam. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Adaline. And thankyou! Merry Christmas!” Sam chuckled with his whole heart as he hung up, took out the vinyls, ran up to Charlie’s door, opened the fly screen and knocked three times.
Charlie answered it, and his heart lurched. She wore a black sweater and black jeans. “Hey,” she simply said.
A wave of warmth washed over his entire body. “Hey.” He said.
“Oh, you didn’t have to get me anything,” Charlie saw the presents in his hands.
“Too bad, Wheeler.” He said casually. Charlie welcomed him in, and they had drinks. Sam sat next to her on the couch, handing her the flat, square gifts. He could smell melting cheese. “Did you cook?” he asked.
“Yeah. Well, we’ll see.”
“It smells great.”
“You’re gonna eat your words.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Sam leaned back. The thumping in his heart had stopped, and for the first time in days, he felt settled. The daunting task ahead he did his best to forget – it was Christmas. But you said you would. Sam gestured to the present. “You wanna open it?”
“What if I hate it?” Charlie said sardonically. “I’m a terrible actor.”
“Ye have little faith, Miss Wheeler.”
Charlie snorted and began unwrapping. In the midst of the suspense, Sam wished he picked up a Sinatra album. He took a deep breath, and trusted Rose, wherever she was. Charlie revealed the albums, the gift wrapping falling to the floor. “Jazz?” Charlie smiled as she furrowed her eyebrows.
“You don’t like jazz?” Sam said.
“Sure I do.” Charlie eased up uncertainly.
“Me too. Well, I haven’t listened to these albums, but I thought they might be nice.” Sam said. He paused as Charlie read their contents. “This lady at the shop gave me the recommendations – I mean I’ve listened to Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong before, and I implicitly trusted her, so. I got you these.” Sam blabbered through his anxiety as he sternly watched Charlie’s reaction.
Charlie stood up, glancing at both albums. She slowly walked over to her record player. A pang hit Sam’s heart – Adaline’s words telling him not to ask her out whilst romantic music was playing ringed in his ear. He took a stiff inhale, making Charlie turn her head to him, expectantly. “You have a preference?” She asked.
“You want to listen to them?” He asked.
“Well, since you got them for me,” Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer silence?”
Sam thought for a moment. “I had a loud Christmas—”
“Silence it is.” Charlie put the vinyls down, picked up her drink, and sat down next to him. “Thanks, though.” She said. Tinnitus rang through Sam’s ears as they sat in the deafening silence. He immediately regretted all his choices. “Are you okay?” Charlie asked. “You seem a bit, stiff.”
“It’s been a long day.” He swallowed. He fiddled with his shirt’s cuffs, pushing them up his arms to let his forearms breath. Charlie watched him intently.
“Tiring family function?” She asked.
“Somewhat.” He knotted his eyebrows. “I still really love Christmas, no matter how it goes. Reminds me of my dad.” He chuckled.
“Your dad?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah, he got really goofy at Christmas. He’d get out the matching pyjamas – he loved them so much. I would always complain and complain, the way you always complain as a kid when your parents tell you to wear something for an occasion. So, one Christmas I really didn’t want to wear them, so I stashed them away and told him I’d lost them, and he wasn’t even mad he was just sad. He tried to find them for me but couldn’t. And then the next year he died. And I found where I had put them and I wore those pyjamas every night until I grew out of them.” Sam swallowed the lump in his throat.
Charlie placed a hand on his shoulder compassionately. “I’ve never really celebrated Christmas, but it’s good you’ve had nice memories surrounding it. Even if they’re bittersweet.”
“You should’ve come, today.” Sam looked at her.
“No, it’s okay.” Charlie’s hand retreated from him.
“What did you do today?”
“Visited Grandma. Called mum. Had some whiskey.”
“A lot, I hope. I’m pretty hard to be around.” Sam smiled.
“Yeah, I made sure to drink at least half a bottle before you got here.”
“Only half a bottle?”
Charlie chuckled. Sam brightened.
“I thought I was worth more than that.” He said.
“You want pizza?” Charlie asked. Her phone started blaring; the timer finished. Charlie wandered into the kitchen and got the tray out from the oven. Sam leaned on the counter next to her, their arms almost touching. He looked over to see the pizza – a simple pepperoni pizza, a tad burnt at the edges.
“Wow, you went all out.” He said with a wry smile.
“And you’re about to go starve if you’re not careful.” Charlie started cutting the pizza into eight even slices. “Don’t say I do nothing for you.”
“I meant it, Charlie. I am simply happy to be fed.” He tried to pick up a slice but burnt his fingers. “Ouch!”
“You really are hopeless,” Charlie said, transferring the pizza to a plate using mittens, before walking back into the loungeroom with it. Sam picked up two plates to serve.
“Is that crust made from scratch?” He asked, following her.
“I’m no amateur.” Charlie sat down.
“Charlie,” Sam sat next to her. She faced him blankly. “Thankyou.” He said sincerely.
“What are we watching?” She asked.
“Love, actually?”
“God no.”
“Die Hard?”
“Sure.” Charlie set it up as Sam dug into his first slice of pizza. Just as he did, he noticed a small piece of hair sticking out from his shirt sleeve. He bit down on the pizza, set it down, and picked the hair carefully out. It was short, no longer than an inch, and completely white. A panic struck his chest.
“Charlie?” He said.
“Yeah?” Charlie continued to focus her attention on the TV.
“Charlie?” Sam said with a touch more panic in his voice. Charlie looked over, and Sam showed her the small piece of hair.
“I don’t understand.” She said.
“It’s rabbit fur.”
Charlie gave him a stern look. “It’s rabbit fur? How do you know?”
“I just know.”
Charlie looked at it closer. “Where did you find it?”
“My clothes.”
Charlie spoke slowly, “If what you’re saying is true, do you not think that maybe you should—”
“No, Charlie.” Sam snapped. He studied the hair intently. “Everyone deserves someone who’d look for them despite everything.”
“I don’t want you to become one of them.” Charlie spat.
“You cannot convince me otherwise.”
“And what of yourself, Sam? What of your own safety, your own livelihood? People need you—”
“Exactly. People need me.”
“I need you.” Charlie said so earnestly, Sam did not notice.
“You don’t need anyone, Charlie. You’ve got enough strength in you to last many lifetimes.”
“Have you ever thought that maybe it’s unhealthy to sacrifice yourself for everyone else constantly?”
“Unhealthy? You’re gonna—”
“What is left of you when you’ve spent your whole life looking after others? What are you then? Because I am afraid it’ll make you a husk of a man who once was great, an inevitable downfall waiting to happen.”
“I thought you needed me.”
“I thought I didn’t.”
“Fair enough.” Sam stood up. “Merry Christmas, Charlie. Thanks for the pizza.” He walked towards the door.
“Sam, please.” Charlie’s voice lowered.
“I’m not having this argument again.” Sam said, opening the door. It snowed outside. It surprised him, and he watched it through the fly screen as it sunk to the ground.
“Sam.” Charlie shouted, her resolve breaking. “Don’t leave me on Christmas.” The words surprised her as she said them.
Sam took a deep breath. He looked at her, her eyebrows knotted but her eyes tearing up. He slowly closed the door. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m sorry. I just—I’m not budging. I’m working the case.”
Charlie took a shaky breath, hiding a tear that escaped with a quick flick of her wrist. “I can’t argue with that.” She said bitterly.
“Charlie.” Sam said, walking towards her and placing his hands on her shoulders. “I’m not going to leave you. I’m always going to be by your side.”
Charlie nodded, coldly staring him in the eye.
“Let’s watch Die Hard.” He said.
They sat down together once more, both feeling stubborn yet remorseful. Charlie pressed play on the movie, and they both ate the pizza. Sam glanced at Charlie throughout the movie, an effortless gesture that Charlie returned when he wasn’t looking.
Sleep crept up on Sam. As the handsome voice of Alan Rickman echoed from the TV, Sam’s eyes fluttered closed. He startled himself, sitting up straight. It’s been a long few days.
“You okay?” Charlie asked.
“Certainly.” Sam grinned. Within the next ten minutes, he was fast asleep, leaning his head on Charlie’s shoulder. Charlie played with his hair absent-mindedly, and the two spent the rest of Christmas Day together, peacefully.
***
“What do you mean you didn’t tell her?!” Adaline shouted at him through the phone. Sam watched the snow fall through his apartment window, Lucky sitting on the bed beside him.
“There wasn’t a good time.” Sam said.
“There’s never a perfect time Sam, you just have to say the words.”
“Yeah, well it’s harder than you think.”
“What about the vinyls, did she like them? Did they add some Christmas magic?”
“I don’t,” Sam hesitated, “I don’t really know. We had an argument.” Sam said mournfully.
“Oh,” Adaline hesitated. “What about?”
“The Alice in Wonderland case.”
“Sam,” Adaline sighed. “She’s right. I mean that case, it’s—”
“I fucking get it Adaline it’s haunted or whatever – look, I don’t care. There’s a reasonable explanation for everything, and I intend to find it. And I know,” Sam took a breath as his eyes started watering, “I know my stubbornness is problematic, I mean I almost walked out on her and she’s—she’s…”
“It’s okay Sam. Christmas is over.” Adaline said.
“Yeah. Christmas is over.” Sam walked over to the bottom draw of his chest of drawers and opened it. “Thanks for your support, Adaline.”
“It’s alright. You’re gonna tell her soon though, right?” she said. “I mean it’s torturing you.”
“Yeah. Soon.” Sam said blankly. From the back of the drawer, Sam took out his teenage, Christmas pyjamas. “I’ll talk to you soon. Before the New Year.” He said.
“Take care, Sam.” She said.
“Yeah, you too.” Sam hung up. He dropped his phone on the bed and squeezed the pyjamas tightly to his chest.