Dear Jessica,

Merry Fucking Christmas

Love,

All your bad decisions XOXO

***

Fucking migraines. I don't remember anything from last night, but it sure as fuck remembers me. This pounding in my head is their love letter sent with a kiss and a middle finger.

The fuck was I up to last night?

With a groan, I turn my head and reach out for my phone.

Thank god my dumb ass didn't lose this during whatever the hell I was doing.

Or at least, I think I didn't. Something's not right.

There's definitely a phone on the nightstand, but there's something off. The feel, the weight, the size. Everything is wrong.

I take hold and turn the screen to face me.

Shit, I think with a groan as I drop it back down onto the tabletop, I walked away with someone else's phone. And a cheap ass one at that. I don't even know what this brand is. Does the other person have my phone? I hope if they have a phone like this they won't know the value of my phone case. It's worth more than my actual phone...

Whatever. Whosever phone this is, it can at least tell me what the time is. Which is apparently 6:02am. I should not be awake at this hour, especially on Christmas Eve—

"The fuck?" I shout, snapping up to a seated position and immediately regretting the sudden movement. My confusion, however, is stronger than the fresh pounding in my head. "It's not Christmas Eve."

The date scrawled beneath the time mocks me as my eyes blink away the sleep collected in them. I scan the screen over and over again, pausing only to wipe away the smudged fingerprints with my shirt sleeve. However, even with the phone clean and clear, the date is still the same.

"How does someone manage to set their phone to the wrong date? Even if it's burner phone quality, it should still be getting the time and date fed to it by the cell service, right?"

I ask my questions to the empty room and then toss the phone back on to the night stand. It's then that I realize the night stand isn't mine... or at least it hasn't been in a long time.

My bedroom? How did I end up back home? What the fuck did I do last night?!

My frantic twisting as I check every corner of the room, as well as the sudden tidal wave of stress, kicks my headache up several notches.

I press my palms into my temples and double over with a groan.

"Jessica," says my mother's voice as she knocks on the door, "you awake?"

"Don't be so loud."

"Don't drink so much next time you decide to crash at our house. I can be as loud as I want."

Without getting proper permission, she opens my door with a tray of breakfast, a cup of coffee, a glass of water, and two white pills.

"You're a lifesaver."

I reach up for the tray like an impatient toddler and toss the pills back the moment I have everything settled atop my childhood bed.

"Your tune changes pretty quick."

"I was talking to the aspirin."

With the pills now safely down my throat, I look up at my mother and give her a wink. She rolls her eyes and gives my shoulder a playful swat.

"So much for the humble Jessica that's been staying with us. I really was hoping it wasn't an act."

What? What does she mean humble? I'm damn proud of my work and I'm not afraid to say it. And I haven't been staying with them. My drunk ass somehow wound up here last night.

My mother doesn't notice my confusion, she just sighs and shakes her head with a slight smile on her lips.

"This is why you'll be getting coal in your stocking tomorrow."

Tomorrow? My eyes go wide and I stop mid-chew with a strip of bacon dangling from my mouth. What the fuck is going on?

I pull the greasy strip from my mouth and with shaking hands, place back on to my plate. I swallow and take a breath, before looking up at her with my face straining to contain my bewilderment.

"What do you mean tomorrow?"

Her gaze narrows, accenting the little wrinkles that have collected over the years—most of which came from raising me.

"What do you mean tomorrow?"

"Why would I be getting coal tomorrow?"

"Because tomorrow's Christmas," she answers with a slow drawl. "Honey, how much did you drink? Did you ever put your cup down or take your eyes off it?"

"What? No! Or at least I don't think so." I moan with the pound of my migraine and rub my palm into the ridge along my brow. "It can't be Christmas Eve. Tonight is supposed to be the Cornucopia Ball."

"You already went to the Cornucopia Ball. That was a month ago."

"This isn't funny, mom."

"No, it's not. I think we should get you to see Dr. Pam."

"It's November 27th and I'm supposed to be in my condo. I have to pick my dress up from the seamstress at noon and I'm getting my hair and makeup done at four..."

"Jessica," she replies, pulling her phone from her pocket and glancing down at its screen, "I don't know what you're going on about, but I'm telling you it is Christmas Eve. Look."

After some swiping, she finds what she's looking for and hands over her phone. On the screen is a text message from me dated for November 27th. I'd sent her a selfie with me showing off my emerald green gown.

"That's... that's my dress. I bought it this year for this ball and I was waiting for the alterations to be done before I sent a picture out. But I haven't picked it up yet..."

"Honey, you did pick it up and then you took this picture and then you went to the party. I'm telling you it happened. Today is Christmas Eve, whether you like it or not."

My breathing is shallow and my head has gone from a heavy brick to painfully airy. I fall back down against my pillow as dizziness sets in and my stomach threatens to rebel.

"Mom, can you call Dr. Pam?"

"I was going to whether you wanted to or not."

She pulls up the local doctor's number and I hear the phone ringing on the other end.

What the hell happened? How come a month is missing from my memory?

***

Welcome to Jessica's magical  journey!

We'll be jumping back and forth between past and present, so make sure to read chapter titles so you know where you're at in the timeline.