Volunteering
Holtz wakes up in a good mood. It’s Christmas Eve, the firehouse looks festive as hell—especially with her spoils from yesterday’s adventure standing tall amongst the lights and paper snowflakes and ghosties on the ceiling—and she’s got the best girlfriend ever in her arms. She clutches Erin a little closer and buries her face into her hair.
“Morning, snowflake,” Holtz says, her voice muffled.
“Happy Christmas Eve day,” Erin replies sleepily.
They stay there for a while, in no hurry to get up. Eventually, Erin claims she has to pee and disentangles herself to do so. Holtz sits upright on the couch and surveys the tree.
“We need to decorate it,” she says once Erin has returned.
Erin hums in response. “I have some ornaments in a box at my place. We could swing by there? Then by your place to feed the children? Then we could settle in here for a day of decorating and relaxing?”
“You’re so great at plans,” Holtz says.
“I try.”
They get themselves bundled up and step out of the firehouse. Erin links their arms together and they take off in the direction of the subway. They only manage to get a few steps before Holtz sees something and freezes, which causes Erin to stumble and crash into her.
“Were they there yesterday?” Holtz says through clenched teeth.
“Who? What—”
Holtz gestures her head at the Santa-hat-wearing, bell-ringing Salvation Army collection person stationed at the end of the block.
“I…yes? Someone has been there all month. Didn’t you notice?”
“I guess I’ve been distracted by you,” Holtz mutters to herself. “Are you sure?”
“Positive! I donated a few weeks ago after feeling guilty going by them every day.”
Holtz unlinks their arms and turns to her in horror. “You didn’t.”
“…Yes?”
“Erin!”
“What?” Erin looks stricken. “What’s wrong with that?”
“The Salvation Army, Erin? Really? How could you?”
“What’s wrong with the Salvation Army? It’s just a donation to homeless shelters and stuff, right? What’s so wrong about that?”
“What’s wrong with the Salvation Army?” Holtz explodes. “Erin, everything! Seriously, I can’t believe you gave them money when you’re—”
“Hey,” Erin says sharply, “don’t talk to me like that. Obviously I don’t know what’s so bad about them, and obviously if I knew there was something bad about them I wouldn’t have given them money, so stop making me feel like crap about it and actually tell me what’s wrong with them so I never do it again! Yelling at me about it doesn’t change the fact that I did it!”
Holtz falls silent and winces. “I’m sorry, Erin,” she says in the smallest voice possible. She screws up her face as tears fill her eyes.
Erin’s face softens instantly. “Holtz? Shoot. I shouldn’t have snapped at you either, I’m s—”
Holtz shakes her head roughly to cut her off. “No, I—they just make me so angry and upset and I’m a dick for taking it out on you. I can’t believe—”
Erin reaches out to squeeze her arm. “Hey, why don’t we go back inside and collect ourselves before we make the front page of some trashy tabloid? ‘Ghostbusting girlfriends have public fight on Christmas Eve, only heartbreak under the tree this year!’”
Holtz lets out a hiccupy laugh. “You should go into journalism.”
Erin leads her back to the firehouse and once inside gives her a soft look. “So, what’s this all about?”
“The Salvation Army,” Holtz inhales roughly, “has a long history of blatant anti-LGBTQ discrimination.”
“Oh,” Erin says quietly.
“In 2004, they threatened to close soup kitchens right here in New York over non-discrimination legislation. Three years prior they even tried to get religious organizations to be exempt from laws like that.”
“That was 15 years ago…have they changed at all?”
Holtz shrugs. “In 2012, they apparently fired an employee for being bisexual. Later that year, a spokesperson made some statement about same sex relationships being an act against God. Lately they’re trying to ‘debunk’ the anti-LGBTQ ‘myth,’ but their history doesn’t lie. Even if they are magically more accepting now, that doesn’t change the fact that they’ve been discriminating against queer people for decades. Not just that, but queer people who needed them.” Her voice breaks.
Erin places a hand on her back and rubs gently. “I had no idea, Holtz. I’m sorry.”
Holtz rubs her eyes angrily. “It’s just personal, y’know? The fact that they get to pick and choose which humans to help based on their own theology is so...” She swallows thickly. “And I’ve been there. I was that scared, struggling, queer kid with nowhere to go. Working three jobs while I was in grad school and barely making enough to pay my bills, let alone buy food. Then there was that one stretch of time when—” She breaks off and scrunches her eyes shut. “I just…I know what it’s like to be in that position, and I remember being so terrified that I’d be refused service or something should I ever reach out to them. It’s not fun. So yeah, they make me really, really angry. And I don’t get angry easily.”
“You never get angry,” Erin murmurs.
Holtz swipes at her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. You didn’t know. I know you wouldn’t have donated if you knew.”
“I’d take back my donation if I could.”
Holtz exhales. “I’m sorry. Christmas Eve is supposed to be happy, and I’ve gone and turned it into a complete bummer.”
Erin bites her lip. “Do you think you’ll be okay to walk past them? We can still have a happy Christmas Eve. Let’s go get the decorations and try to forget about it, okay?”
Holtz nods her assent. The two take off again, and Holtz tries her best to not look at or think about the collection person, or all the money that’s sitting inside that stupid red kettle. She’s quiet for the rest of the trip to Erin’s place, and she sits on the edge of the couch while Erin retrieves a small box labeled Christmas in her neat handwriting. Holtz takes it from her and props it on her hip, then they depart for Holtz’s apartment. When they get there, Erin feeds the children while Holtz gets changed. While she’s staring into her closet, she gets a stroke of inspiration. She rifles through her large collection of festive sweaters (some might call them ‘tacky,’ but she prefers ‘unique’) until she finds the one she’s looking for.
Garish knitted rainbow stripes, LED snowflakes, and the phrase Homo for the Holigays in swirling script. Perfect.
She can’t believe this is the first time this year that she’s worn this one, actually.
“What are you doing?”
Holtz looks over her shoulder to see Erin leaning in the doorframe of the bedroom.
She grins. “Donning my gay apparel.” She tugs the sweater on and turns so Erin can see it.
At this point, Erin has seen most of the sweaters in Holtz’s collection, and she seems to love all of them. Actually love, not just ‘that’s awful and I love it’ love. Now, though, she looks completely thrown.
“Oh! Wow, that’s…that sure is…that’s something. That’s very interesting…I mean, it’s very you, and—”
“Isn’t it just?” Holtz looks fondly down at her chest. “It makes a statement, don’t you think?”
“That’s…yes, it certainly does…”
“Ready to go? Are the kids fed?”
“And cuddled.”
“Perf. Let’s go, then!”
Holtz props the box on her hip again and takes Erin’s hand as they walk. Holtz is even more aware than usual of all those incessant jingle bells on seemingly every block. She makes a big show of leaving her jacket open so everyone they pass can see her sweater. She can feel Erin gripping her hand even tighter than usual. They make it back to the firehouse, and to her credit, Holtz doesn’t fight the collection woman on their block when she averts her eyes from the two of them.
Erin squeezes her hand as they step inside. “See, now we can just put all that behind us and focus on having fu—Abby!”
Abby is standing in the middle of the firehouse staring up at the tree.
“Where the hell did this come from?”
“Merry Christmas Eve to you too, Abigail,” Holtz says. “I thought you were supposed to be Netflixing?”
Abby turns around and seems to get momentarily distracted by Holtz’s sweater. “Ooh, ‘Holigays.’ I forgot about that one.”
Holtz finger-guns her.
“No,” Abby continues, “I forgot my laptop charger here. I was just going to pop in and out and be off on my merry way, but I just have…so many questions.”
“It’s a Christmas tree,” Erin offers.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Holtz cut it down,” she adds.
Abby lifts an eyebrow. “From where? Central Park? You know chopping down random trees is illegal, right?”
“Psssh. Give me some credit. I have to draw the line somewhere. As if I’d ever commit a felony in the name of Christmas.”
Erin joins in with the eyebrow-raising.
Holtz winks. “What is a felony, really? So subjective.”
“Which brings us back to my question. Where did you cut down this tree?”
“A U-CUT place out of state,” Erin says. “Completely normal. Well, the part where Holtz brought her own axe wasn’t so normal, but you know what I mean.”
“You liked it,” Holtz says.
“I did. Very hot,” Erin mouths.
“What happened to the top of it?” Abby asks, staring back at the tree.
“Unimportant. Once we slap some ornaments on that puppy, it’ll be hardly noticeable. Speaking of which—” Holtz shakes the box— “We’re just about to decorate. Care to join us?”
“I have a hot date with my couch. Already postponed it once.”
Erin pouts. “Aw, come on, Abby! It’s still so early! Stay for an hour—you’ll still have plenty of time to binge on whatever you’re going to binge on.”
Abby contemplates for a few seconds. “Fine,” she says finally, and when they start cheering she holds a finger up. “One hour! That’s all I’m promising.”
“We’d better get right to work, then!” Erin takes the box from Holtz and carries it over to the couch to start unpacking it.
Soon, Christmas carols are playing from Holtz’s stereo and the three are getting into the swing of things. They take down a few strings of lights that are hanging on the walls and wrap the tree with them, then follow with Erin’s ornaments. Holtz has only broken one so far—Erin swears it wasn’t a good one anyway—and the tree is looking great. Not too much time has passed, though, when they run out of ornaments…and only about 10% of the tree is covered.
Erin appraises it. “I used to only get those miniature trees. I didn’t consider that.”
Normally, Holtz would see this as a challenge, or embrace the Charlie Brownness of it all, but today she’s…already emotionally fraught, or something. Her lip wavers. “This isn’t okay. Timothy deserves better.”
“Timothy?”
Holtz juts her chin at the tree. “Tiny Tim.”
“Right. Well, we can…we can go buy more ornaments!”
“The day before Christmas? Really, Erin? Who’s going to have any?” Holtz stalks over to the couch, flops onto it, and drops her head into her hands. “Christmas Eve is ruined.”
“What is—Holtzmann, are you crying?”
“Leave it, Abby. We had a rough morning.”
“What happened? Someone spit in your eggnog?” Abby jokes.
“She uh…got a little upset about the…collection…outside.”
“Huh?”
“Salvation Army,” Erin whispers.
“Ooooh. Yeah, that’s a touchy subject, alright.”
Holtz feels the couch sink down beside her and she drops her hands.
“Heyyy, Holtzmann. You can’t let them ruin your day, okay? We’ve talked about this. They’re always going to be there.”
“I know that.” Holtz swings her leg to kick her heel into the couch. “I just feel all sad and pissed off now, and I hate that. It’s Christmas. I don’t want to feel bummed out.”
“What’s going to make you not bummed out?” Abby asks.
“I thought decorating the tree, but that only distracted me for a moment. I’m worried I’m going to be bummed out for the rest of the day, and then that’s going to carry over until tomorrow, and I’m just going to be perpetually bummed out because of the freaking Salvation Army.” She kicks the couch again. “And I know they’re always going to be out there, but it’s just especially bumming me out that they’re right outside. It’s like…you know how they normally station themselves outside businesses? It’s almost like they’re using the foot traffic from this being Ghostbusters Headquarters, and that really pisses me off. Even though I know we’re not endorsing them, it almost feels like that. It’s stupid. I know.”
“That’s not stupid,” Erin murmurs, coming to stand in front of Holtz.
“Why haven’t we been raising money? We could’ve totally raised so much money and given it to actual worthwhile charities. We could’ve done a toy drive! We could’ve got cool gender neutral toys for cool kids! Why didn’t we think of that?” Holtz can feel herself getting worked up again, but she doesn’t know how to stop it.
“Next year, Holtz. We can do all of that!” Erin crouches in front of her and pats her knee.
“I don’t want to do it next year, I want to do it now. I’m bummed out and angry and I want to do it now. Come on, the mayor owes us a billion favours! We could totally pull something like that off, right?”
Erin and Abby exchange a glance.
“It’s the day before Christmas, Holtz. The mayor’s not even in town. Erin’s right, we can do that next year.”
“What’s the point of being public figures if we can’t use our position to do some good?” Holtz kicks the couch again, harder.
Something comes over Erin’s face. “Hey! I might have an idea. It’s not a toy drive, or a fundraiser, but…”
That evening, the three of them stand in a row and fill a plate, assembly-line style. Holtz loads up a big scoop of mashed potatoes at the end and hands the plate to the girl in front of her.
“Happy holidays!” she says with her brightest smile.
After some quick research, they found a local soup kitchen (not Salvation Army run) putting on a big Christmas meal. They called them up and asked if they could use three more volunteers, then went on a big shopping run to pick up some extra food to donate. When they arrived, they were greeted warmly by the elderly couple who runs the joint. The whole evening, they’ve been thanking them profusely for donating their time to help out. The dining hall is packed full, and there’s a long line of volunteers all hustling to get the meals out.
Everyone is talking and laughing and eating, and it makes Holtz’s heart feel full. She’s never done this, not around Christmas like this at least, and she’s so glad that Erin got the idea.
The girl takes the plate from Holtz. “Thank you. Merry Christmas.” She hesitates for a second, and then, a little bashfully, adds, “I like your sweater.”
Holtz looks down at the LED snowflakes, and then back up at the girl. “Thank you so much,” she says sincerely. “You have a good Christmas, okay?”
The girl nods shyly, gives a little smile, and walks away with her plate. Holtz watches her go, feeling Erin press another plate into her hand, and her eyes get a little misty for the third time today.
Oh yes, next year they’re going to go all out. But this—right now—feels good.