Correcting Christmas Page #2

no service.

- Seriously?

- Hey, I don't make the rules.

I just get paid an insulting

amount to enforce them.

I bet you wouldn't be such a stickler

for the rules if I took my shirt off.

- Please don't.

- I wasn't really going to.

Oh, no, no, no.

I'm sure you weren't.

You don't seem like the

desperate type at all.

Both of 'em.

So, we good?

Anywhere you like,

sweetie.

Big juicy burgers,

exactly the Christmas Eve

feast I need.

The roast beef sandwich

is to die for.

I'm sorry?

Roast beef sandwich.

Trust me.

And get the fries,

not the cop-out side salad.

It's Christmas Eve.

You don't mind,

do you?

On holidays, a lady

should never eat alone.

Who says I'm alone?

I'm talking about me.

Oh.

Sure, I guess.

French fries.

No one will know

except you and me

and the mean waiter.

Wait.

Didn't you used to...

Used to be over there,

yes. Now I'm over here.

No separate checks.

What, another rule?

Would you like to see

the whole book?

Two roast beef sandwiches with fries.

- Burn 'em.

- Okay.

Um, actually, I'll have

your juicy burger, well done.

You might as well

order a shoe.

- She'll have that medium.

- What?

I'm begging you here.

Medium.

Thank you.

Don't mind him.

His wife left him

for a short-order cook

at a nicer diner,

which wouldn't take much.

I'm Ginny, by the way.

Ali.

So what twisted reason

do you have

for eating fat and carbs

alone on Christmas Eve?

I was working.

I didn't feel like traveling

to see my family this year.

No guy or girl

or whatever?

So what? You think I need

a guy or a whatever?

No, but you do.

One guy in particular,

I'm guessing,

who's still

messing with your head.

There is a picture

of him on your desk,

and sometimes

you talk to it.

Um, I did, actually,

break up with my boyfriend

exactly a year ago.

Yes! I still got it!

Oh, I'm sorry.

Please continue.

Well, we were

living together,

um, and he was dropping

hint after hint,

or, you know,

at least I thought he was.

So when

the engagement ring

that I was so sure

was in that little box

turned out to be earrings,

I overreacted.

Overreacted

like stuck a fork

- in his hand overreacted?

- No.

Planted drugs on him and

called the cops overreacted?

No.

I broke up with him

the next morning.

That's it?

You know,

I just got caught up

in the whole so-called

magic of Christmas thing,

and I was a child.

There is no magic.

There is just life.

Excuse me.

There is magic.

Okay, you're one of those.

One of those what?

One of those

"Magic is everywhere,

you just have to go

off your meds" people.

Magic isn't everywhere,

not even everywhen.

It's just at Christmas.

That's kind of even worse.

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