Open Doors (Alexander Dane)
Alexander Dane sat alone in his modest Los Angeles apartment, staring at the blinking lights of a half-heartedly decorated Christmas tree. An apt metaphor for another lonely Christmas Eve. The holiday spirit eluded him, even more so since the peak of his fame as Dr. Lazarus from Galaxy Quest. A lifetime of typecasting and conventions had left him with little energy for celebrating anything, least of all Christmas.
He scoffed at a holiday card that had arrived two weeks ago from his agent, the message inside a soullessly stamped “Hope the New Year brings more opportunities!” Pouring another whiskey, he made it into something with infinitely more use, a coaster.
Year after year, Alexander found himself alone, his only company the echoes of applause from a career long past its prime. He glanced at the tree and downed his drink in disgust.
A soft knock at the door interrupted his brooding. He frowned, unsure who would visit him on Christmas Eve. His small circle of friends had all gone away for the holidays, and he hadn’t expected anyone. A second knock, more insistent than the first, startled him. He debated ignoring it. After a moment, he sighed and shuffled to the door to get this over with.
He expected a delivery mix-up or, god forbid, an overzealous fan who’d tracked him down. Instead, standing on the other side was somebody who stopped him cold.
On his doorstep stood Casey.
Her auburn hair was a little damp and cheeks flushed from the chill in the air. She wore a sweater he vaguely recognized from a couple weeks ago—a memory he’d tried not to dwell on for fear it would hurt too much.
“Casey?” he asked, her name catching in his throat.
“Hi, Alexander.” A shy smile played on her lips, a massive departure from her usual demeanor. She presented a small container of homemade cookies. “I remember you mentioned once you usually spent holidays alone. So I thought you might want some company?”
He stared at her, unprepared for such warmth. “You came here… to spend Christmas Eve with me?”
“You haven’t been by the bar lately,” she shrugged. “Figured maybe you were in alone your own head. So I decided to drop by. Unless you’d rather be alone. In which case, I completely understand. I’ll just leave these—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said quickly, stepping aside. As she moved past him, he caught a whiff of her familiar jasmine scent, a cruel reminder of a night he’d thought about far too often.
Casey was a bartender at a quiet little spot he until recently frequented. A refuge where he could wallow about his life as a washed up actor with no valuable skills to a captive audience. She had bright eyes, a laugh that could light up the darkest room, and an uncanny ability to see through his defensive, sardonic exterior. Those evenings proved to be a refreshing escape from the pretentious, cutthroat hellscape that was Los Angeles. Eventually it felt less of a barroom therapy session and more like spending time with…a friend.
By happenstance they crossed paths at a small theater production. He, finding equilibrium as a spectator to remind him of his love for the craft and she…on a date. Oddly, his heart plummeted at the sight.
Midway through the production, he spied the seat previously occupied by her companion now suspiciously empty. During intermission, he gathered a rare courage to approach her. There she explained the uncultured git ditched her and offered his seat to Alexander.
What followed was a most wonderful night that blurred into something more, something real in a sea of self-serving clout chasers. For a single night he allowed himself to believe somebody found his company desirable. But by morning, she’d left, and reality set in.
Entering, Casey glanced around his no frills apartment, her gaze lingering on the tree with its drooping ornaments.
“Didn’t peg you as the decorating type,” she teased gently in an attempt to diffuse the awkward fog between them.
“I’m not,” Alexander admitted. “The tree was… a moment of fleeting optimism.”
Casey set the cookies on the coffee table and perched on the sofa. “Well, I like it. It’s got character.”
Alexander couldn’t help but chuckle. “Much like its owner, I suppose.”
“That it does,” Casey grinned, sweeping a hand through her hair. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here. Hell, I almost didn’t come. You should update the gate code.”
“What made you decide otherwise?” Alexander asked, his tone wary, but curious.
Casey stared at him a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. He recognized the sight, of course, though it was typically reserved for belligerent drunks barking heinous vulgarities at her when she cut them off. It didn’t bode well for him.
“I thought about that night,” she began slowly. “About us. And I realized I messed up. It wasn’t fair to you, Alexander.”
He studied her, his emotions tangled in knots he couldn’t quite untie. Try as he might, he couldn’t quite build up his guard, nor completely knock it down. “I assumed you regretted it.”
“Not at all,” she said quickly, stepping closer. “I was scared. You’re… well, you’re you! Brilliant, sharp, and impossibly hard to read. I’m just a bartender. A good one, but…not on your level. The longer I stayed, the more I thought…anyways, I didn’t think you’d want anything more.”
Alexander huffed a humorless laugh. “That’s the irony, isn’t it? You’re the one out of my league.”
A silence settled between them, broken only by the soft hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the building. Casey strode to his pathetic little tree and fidgeted with the baubles.
“I wasn’t sure if showing up tonight was the right thing to do,” she said finally. “But then I realized I’d rather risk making a fool of myself than spend Christmas wondering what might have been.”
Alexander blinked, her words sinking in like warmth after too long in the cold. “You thought of me?”
“Of course I did, silly man,” she replied, meeting his gaze. “You’re not as forgettable as you seem to think.”
For a moment, he couldn’t find the words. He wasn’t used to this—being wanted, being thought of. He was a supporting character, no longer the leading man used to be on stage. But here she was, standing in his living room on Christmas Eve, offering him the very thing he craved. Her company. She’d consumed his thoughts ever since she left his bed in the dead of night.
“Casey,” he began, his voice timid. “Would you… would you stay for a while? It seems a shame to let the evening go to waste.”
The night unfolded in a way he hadn’t anticipated. They talked, slowly scooting closer as they swapped stories. He never knew Casey was writing a book, those scribbles on napkins now making more sense. When offered to put in a good word with a publishing house run by an acquaintance of his, Casey gently shot it down, saying she didn’t any of his connections, just his company. That’s when he threw caution to the wind.
Alexander leaned in slightly, his movements slow, almost cautious, as though she might vanish if he moved too quickly. Casey didn’t pull back, her lips parting ever in invitation.
Their noses brushed first, a soft, fleeting touch that made Alexander’s pulse quicken. He paused there, his forehead nearly resting against hers, his lips hovering a whisper away.
“This doesn’t have to mean everything right away,” he murmured, his voice low.
She tilted her head just enough that their lips were nearly touching, her tone teasing. “You aren’t getting into my pants quite so easy this time.”
That was all he needed. Slowly, gently, Alexander closed the gap, his lips brushing hers in the barest, most tentative kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate like that ill-fated night—it was a reacquaintance.
Casey responded just as delicately, her lips pressing against his in return, soft and warm, a touch that carried the weight of unspoken hopes. It was hesitant, as if neither of them dared to take more than the other was willing to give, but it lingered long enough to feel like an answer.
Snuggling into his side, they continued their unconventional Christmas Eve celebration. Casey insisted on finding something festive to watch, settling on an old Galaxy Quest Christmas special—one he’d all but buried in the depths of his memory.
“Oh no,” Alexander groaned as his younger self appeared on the screen, donning a ridiculous red and green iteration of his Dr. Lazarus robes, complete with a hideous bell-infested sash. “I hoped this particular abomination had been lost to the ages.”
“You look adorable!” Casey protested. “And look, your character is the one saving the day by reminding everybody of the true spirit of Christmas.”
“It was a paycheck.” He sank further into the couch, covering his face in embarrassment. “Nothing more.”
Casey leaned over and gently pried his hands away. She wouldn’t allow him to hide from her now. “You’re way too hard on yourself, Alexander. That’s part of your charm, but you need to let people in every once in a while.”
He met her gaze, her words hanging in the air like the gentle breeze outside. Alexander had always been wary of opening doors—literal and metaphorical—to anyone. Yet here she was, her presence filling his apartment with a warmth he hadn’t known he needed.
As the special ended and the room grew quiet save for the soundtrack of LA nightlife, Casey returned to the tree.
“This ornament,” she said, pointing to a small, handmade bauble near the top. “What’s its story?”
Alexander hesitated before answering. “It was given to me by a fan at one of those endless conventions. A child, perhaps six or seven. She said Dr. Lazarus was her hero because he never gave up. I suppose it… stuck with me.”
Casey smiled softly and turned back to him. Occasionally he’d allow her entry into his complicated thoughts those nights he kept her company closing up the bar. Most of the time those conversations revolved around his selling his soul to science fiction sitcoms, forsaking his roots in theater for Hollywood. And most of the time she’d been able to talk him down from the edge without stroking his ego.
“You may think the world sees you as just an actor, but clearly, you’ve touched people in ways you don’t realize. Maybe it’s time you see that too.”
He watched her for a moment, her words settling in his heart like a balm. “Perhaps you’re right.”
God, he felt like such a prat unloading his woes onto her.
“Even bartenders are capable of the occasional kernel of wisdom.”
“Don’t do that,” Alexander scolded. “You’re funny, kind, and can recite Shakespeare while juggling handles of vodka.”
“You remembered that?”
“It’s difficult not to. That was the night,” his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “I decided I wanted to ask you out.”
The evening stretched into the early hours of Christmas Day, filled with laughter, stories, more than a few kisses, and a surprising sense of joy. Fortunately, the subsequent films were classics. Casey didn’t have completely terrible taste. As she prepared to leave, Alexander walked her to the door, a rare smile playing on his lips.
“Thank you for tonight,” he said. “I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”
She tilted her head. “Does this mean we can do this again sometime?”
“Absolutely,” he agreed a tad too quickly, cringing at the desperation in his tone. “Whenever you’re free.”
Casey plucked the repurposed coaster from the table, scrawling her phone number across the back with a cheeky grin. “Don’t be giving my number out to people, mister. I like to keep a low profile.”
“I shall guard it with my life,” Alexander promised, already reaching for his phone, his heart light. Casey had other plans, and wrapped her arms around his neck to deliver a parting kiss.
As she disappeared into the hazy morning, Alexander closed the door, the warmth of her presence lingering in the room. Gazing at the tree, no longer as pathetic as he originally thought, Alexander Dane was grateful. As an actor he was well accustomed to doors being slammed in his face. Today, he not only opened one, but embraced the good that came through it.