The Most Wonderful Time
Tom was a midlevel advertising executive at a Christmas party with his wife. She was a strong, practical sort of blonde and she wore two inch heels with a blue dress that fell at mid-thigh. The two of them were off by themselves, next to a pillar where they had a good view down Park Avenue. They’d both made good Christmas bonuses, and he thought he might surprise her with a last-minute trip to the Virgin Islands. He squeezed her palm between his thumb and first two fingers. She put her head against the lapel of his blazer, and Tom went to caress her neck but then decided against it. He knew that he’d hear from her later if he ruined her hair.
Instead he kissed her on the bridge of her nose and told her he’d be right back. He was going to the bathroom to book the trip from his phone. It was a little away from the party, down a hallway with fine wood floors. He knocked, and when no one responded he went in. But where he expected to step onto white bathroom tile, instead there was only darkness, a strange and absolute nothing. Tom shouted as the door swung shut behind him and he fell headfirst into the black.
He was tumbling slow and weightless and his clothing floated like he was a mile underwater. He realized he could still see his hands and arms despite the total darkness. There were no shadows either, like he was lit without a source of light. He was turning all the time, and couldn’t tell whether he was falling or rising. He had no sense of “down”. Before too long he was upright again though as his body made one final twist and his feet slammed against the ground.
He was in a bathroom, but this was not the one in his office. His hands were shaking, and Tom splashed water in his face and slapped himself across both cheeks. His lungs seized as his body realized what had just happened. He checked his pulse and eyed himself in the mirror to check for drooping lips or sagging eyes. Tom assumed that he’d just had a stroke.
But he looked fine. In fact, he looked better than fine. He was tanner than before, his neck was tighter, and the wrinkles by his eyes were thinner while the speckled gray in his hair was replaced with an inky jet blank. For a moment, Tom thought that he looked younger, and then he realized. He’d definitely had work done.
He left the bathroom and found himself at a completely different Christmas party than the one he left. There was loud music playing, and this place was decadent. Almost everyone was beautiful. Not just good looking, but striking in a way that was surreal. A few of them gave him nods, and a redhead in a plush looking miniskirt smiled. A drunk old man in an expensive suit waved a glass of whiskey in his direction. Tom held his breath and pushed through the crowd and out onto the balcony. They were in midtown, overlooking the Christmas tree at Rockefeller center. There was music and a stage and the square was filled with people. They were turning on the lights tonight. He closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. After a minute he was interrupted.
“There you are. I was wondering where you went.”
Tom looked up. There was a beautiful asian woman standing in front of him. She wore loose pants and a black and gold top that made her look regal. He noticed a bulge in her stomach, and realized she was pregnant. She didn’t slouch though, and she exuded an enormous sense of ease and pride. Immediately Tom was drawn to her by a feeling in the base of his chest.
“Is something wrong?” she said.
“No. I’m just drunk,” he looked into her eyes. There was a silent wit and curiosity there. Tom breathed deep, and he felt his blood purr. The tips of his fingers buzzed. “How was your night?”
She took a step towards him, and a delicate finger traced the outline of his thumb.
“It’s been good,” she laid her head on his chest. He felt the bulge of her stomach press against his waist and he tensed. “I was just talking to Catherine,” she said, “and you know how she is. But she was saying how after all the awards, it would be funny if we named the baby Oscar.”
“Oscar.” Tom could hear his heart beating in his ears. He felt the cold on his skin just like any other night and he thought back to his wife on Park avenue. Then he ran his fingers through this strange woman’s hair, and he rubbed the base of her head where it met her neck. She was warm.
"I don’t really think we should do it,” she said. “The tabloids would never stop talking. But I don’t know. It is funny. And I like the idea of naming him after a success.” She paused. “What do you think?” She looked up, and her eyes destroyed him.
“What do I think?”
In an instant he realized he loved this woman. And he was horrified. He felt his chest twist as he remembered his other life. The comfortable one he’d already spent so long living. He remembered the wife whose name he actually knew. Tom pushed past the perfect woman on the balcony and sprinted to the bathroom. He swung open the door, fell into the darkness, and landed back in his own office bathroom. The music was quiet here, and he ran out into his Christmas party somehow sure that because he’d come back, he could never return. He went to his wife and he smiled, but there was pain in his gut when he looked in her eyes. He felt nothing.
