A Christmas Story




I know it's been awhile. But don't worry, the next chapter is already written. In fact, the next two are, and I even have a little bit of chapter four. On any account, please tell me what you think.

------------------------------- Chapter One: Being You -------------------------------

Another Christmas alone, though Jing-Mei knew it was probably her own fault, she thought as she stepped onto the sidewalk. She hadn't been in a serious relationship in years - since Dave - but love wasn't really something she wanted right now - or had wanted for that matter. Looking back on it now, she knew that even with Dave it had been a mistake, and for the past thirteen years she'd been so involved in making it to the top she hadn't had time for love. But now that she was at the peak of her career, it seemed as if it was still hard for her to find someone who had something to offer other than a one-night stand or a short term relationship that she always ended before it got too serious. In fact, the last almost-serious relationship she'd been in was with Dr. Gregory Pratt, who had soon moved to another city after she'd broken it off with him. And she was almost sure the only reason she'd even liked him in the first place was because she saw a lot of Dave in him…sure, Dave was a little bit more charismatic, but the dry humor was the same, if not a little more brusque.

Like Craig, she thought with a dry smile as she began her long trek home in the crisp night air, her Ferrari snowed in at her apartment. She'd met the younger man yesterday at a party the ER staff had held for the holidays, and they'd immediately clicked. Some small talk and eggnog later, and they'd ended up at her apartment, having sex. This morning, she'd asked him over tonight, in hopes that she could avoid loneliness on today, of all days, but he had friends and family to visit. Of course. Who didn't, on Christmas day? She could answer her own question.

"The cheese stands alone," she muttered to herself, just as it began to snow. Glancing up, she watched it for a moment, allowing it to fall atop her tongue. It hardly ever snowed gently like this in Chicago; they didn't call it the Windy City for nothing. Shivering slightly, Jing-Mei then wrapped her coat tighter around herself. "Now if only I could find some eggnog…hey…"

Spotting the open convenient store, she smiled at the fact that only the Wong brothers were crazy enough to be open Christmas Eve, especially at this hour. But they took their twenty-four-hour duty to heart, she supposed, and she thanked them for it as she dashed across the deserted street and entered the warm, brightly lit deli store. Inside, she was surprised to see a few other people: a nerdy college kid at the salad bar, a drunken department store Santa at the liquor display, and a woman with a baby near the dairy section. Also, there was a black man probably in his late twenties or early thirties, with a large gold chain with the name "Cash" written on it, standing in front of the coffee machine and muttering to himself.

"Oh, yeah…yeah, yee-ah!" the man was going on about, seemingly crazy. "She's a certified winner…paper-thin but good as gold…"

Ignoring mostly everyone, Jing-Mei approached Sam Wong at the counter, who was sitting with his probably one-hundred-and-two year old grandfather at the counter. "Eggnog?"

"Dairy case," Sam said in his thick Chinese accent, pointing to the right section. "Five dollar."

"Y'all do the lotto here?" she heard "Cash" asking Sam in the background, as she made her way to the dairy section and tried to spot the type of eggnog that would taste the best. If she was going to be alone, she might as well splurge a little on herself, though convenient-store-bought eggnog could hardly be called splurging. But, hey, it was the best she could do right now.

The baby in the mother's arms next to her cooed softly, and Jing-Mei glanced at him, unable to think of anything else but her son Michael right now. He was fifteen years old now, a handsome young man that looked a lot more like his father than he did her for obvious reasons, and then some. Long ago, Jing-Mei had decided to let him and his family live their own lives, without her constantly checking up on him. He needed to have a solid foundation right now, and his adoptive parents were just that. Later, when - *if* - he decided, then he could seek her out. But until then, she would have to be patient and let him grow up without her.

With a sigh, Jing-Mei headed back towards the counter, eggnog in hand, Jing-Mei kept her distance as Cash handed Sam his ticket. "I got me a winner there…I know, I know, Lotto keeps the black man down, but not me… See? Look there: 6, 14, 18, 48. Right there, four numbers, that's two hundred and thirty eight dollar. Merry Christmas and shit…"

Sam barely looked at the ticket. "Ticket bad. You draw in lines with pencil."

"What're you talkin' about?"

"You draw in lines with pencil!" Sam yelled, and Jing-Mei felt trepidation creeping up on her as the young man threw the ticket back at the obviously crazy man. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the college kid glance up nervously, but the drunken Santa seemed oblivious to it all as he started to walk by Jing-Mei, who instinctively put an arm out, holding the Santa back. "I know about this!"

"What!? Look at the ticket!"

"Get out, or I call 911."

"You're lookin' at me, you're not even lookin' at the ticket!"

The Santa looked at Jing-Mei, confused, but the young doctor only shook her head, now seeing the woman holding the baby putting the loaf of bread back on the shelf, inching towards the door afterwards. God, she hoped this didn't keep going in the direction it was…

"You leave now, take ticket somewhere else," Sam said, and Jing-Mei cursed the day he decided he was invincible. "Next customer in line!"

"You first generation, xenophobic, money-theistic, hot pastrami sandwich making…" Cash began, his anger visibly rising, and if he were any other color Jing-Mei new his face would be red with rage. Without warning, he shoved the ticket in Sam's face, whipping out a small gun and screaming: "Look at the Goddamn ticket!! "

A heart-stopping pause.

"Let me see that ticket."

His head snapped around fast to look at Jing-Mei, his eyes wild. "Was I talkin' to you??"

"Maybe I'll buy it from you," she said, desperately trying to stay cool. "Make a business deal."

"Stupid-ass Chink in a two-thousand dollar coat gets capped tryin' to be a hero, news at eleven," Cash said, approaching her. Suddenly, he raised the gun and pointed it directly at her heart, and this was probably the only real time in her life she'd ever thought she was going to die, save that terrible incident in the ER a long time ago when a drug-seeking psycho had put a gun to her head just to get a quick fix. Oh, God, why had she decided to open her big mouth? "Do you wanna die?" he asked her then, and when she didn't reply: "Do you. Wanna. Die."

"No." Neither of them made a move for a moment, until Jing-Mei went on, staring Cash dead in the eyes: "Look, I'm talking about a business deal here. I buy the ticket for two hundred, take it to a store where the guy behind the counter *doesn't* have a death wish…I just made myself a quick thirty-eight dollars."

She watched. Waited. Cash's eyes narrowed, and he studied her for a moment, before he smiled slightly, putting the safety on his gun and slipping it back into his pants. "Damn. You are the real thing…yeah. A'ight, yeah." He took the eggnog from her, smiling a charming smile that probably gained him many dates, and he walked past the counter, but not before tossing over his shoulder to Sam: "You blew it, B, you blew it. The ticket was real. Damn, you had your chance, too. Come on, Deb, let's get outta here."

Cash started out of the deli, and Jing-Mei followed, placing five dollars for the eggnog on the counter before she left, though Sam waved her off, his own embarrassment showing through his relief. Walking down the street with the young black man, she then began counting out two hundred dollars, thankful that she carried backup money with her wherever she went.

"Hey, uh…" she said then, realizing something. "How did you know my name was Deb?"

"I call all you white chicks 'Deb,'" he stated, shrugging as he took the money from her and traded it for the ticket. "Nice doing business with you."

"Right…" Jing-Mei nodded numbly, hardly believing what had just happened to her, but as she watched the young man walk down the street, she felt an inclination to do more. God damn it, she had to save *everybody*, didn't she? "Hey, wait! Uh…what do you want to carry that gun around for, anyway? You're just gonna do something you'll regret…"

Cash glanced at her with audacity. Yeah, she didn't know what the hell she was doing either. "You want to talk about regrets?" he asked. "You're talking to the wrong person."

"I'm just saying," Jing-Mei continued, as he took a sip of her eggnog. "You seem like a smart guy. At a certain point you're going to do something stupid, and then there's no turning back."

"Yeah," he agreed. "In most cases, that'd be true."

"I mean, there must be programs out there, opportunities…"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute…you're tryin' to save me??" The stranger suddenly laughed deeply, outstretching his arms and glancing towards the heavens. "This woman thinks I need to be saved!!"

"Everybody needs something," Jing-Mei replied, wondering if she was really doing the right thing with this unbalanced person when she didn't have the protection of the ER at the moment.

"Yeah?" Cash asked, glancing back to her. "What do you need?"

"Me?" she asked, surprised.

"You just said everybody needs something," he reminded her. "What do *you* need?"

"I've got everything I need." It was true: a steady job with a steady - and rather nice - paycheck, the biggest apartment in her building with the nicest view of Chicago, a good car and a good sex life. She could live like that for the rest of her life, as far as she was concerned.

"Wow," Cash said, truly amazed. "It must be great being you."

"Look," Jing-Mei said, holding out her arms in desperation. "I'm not saying you'd be able to do it without some hard work, some honest, hard work…and *possibly* some medication, but…"

"I'm gonna really enjoy this," he interrupted, laughing heartily now, just as confusion crossed the oriental doctor's face. "Just remember, Jing-Mei, you did this. You brought this on yourself." He turned, walking away from her then, but not before making sure to call over his shoulder: "Merry Christmas."

Absolutely perplexed, Jing-Mei stood there on the sidewalk in the snowy winter night for a moment, only realizing after the stranger was gone that she hadn't told him her real name.

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A half-hour later, Jing-Mei entered her dark apartment, throwing her keys onto a nearby table in the hall. Taking off her gloves and overcoat, she glanced at the mail before heading into the bedroom, unbuttoning her blouse as she traveled through the almost faceless apartment. She kept the place immaculate, was probably a neat freak, but working in the ER didn't allow her much control, and at least she could control this.

Throwing her clothes into the hamper, she stayed in her silk panties and camisole, slipping under the covers. Today had been quite a day, especially with her encounter at the convenient store, with the stranger that had somehow discovered her name - he must have glanced at her name on her license when she took the money out of her wallet, she decided. But, too tired to dwell on it, she knew she only had two hours before she needed to be at work again, and so she watched the snow falling outside for a while, but soon felt heavy lids closing over her eyes as sleep overcame her.

It seemed hours later when she awoke, flat on her back in bed, and when she opened her eyes she realized it had to be hours later if it were morning. Oh, God, had she overslept?? Before she could answer her own question, she felt something strange. Glancing down, she saw a man's head resting on her stomach; he was lying motionless, obviously sleeping, his strong arms wrapped almost protectively around her.

Jesus, she thought. Had she went somewhere last night? Met someone, and gotten so drunk she didn't remember going home with them? She didn't feel hungover, and she wasn't naked, though she now donned a gray tee-shirt, at least from what she could see…and did he have a dog, she wondered, as she spotted the large mutt sitting faithfully beside the bed, wagging its tail as she made brief eye contact with it.

Glancing down so she could at least get a good look at who she'd shared the night with, she craned her neck as much as it would allow, brushing back the man's short brown hair with her fingertips. And she gasped audibly, her body rigid with shock as she realized just whom she'd slept with last night.

"Oh, God…Dave."

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Part 2
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