by Tom Reilly
“I’ll have a sliver, honey,” Mom said.
“I’ll help you,” Ike said.
After pie, coffee and more small talk, the evening wound down. Timothy yawned.
“You look tired, honey,” Mom said.
“Yeah, I think it’s the turkey and the drinks. We better go. I have to be at the tree lot early tomorrow, and Cheryl has an early morning, too.”
“Thanks for coming tonight, guys. It’s fun to get together. We’re all so busy these days. We have to make time to do more of this,” Leslie said.
Ike nodded. Timothy and Cheryl rose, he gave the kids high fives, kissed Mom on the forehead, gave Sis a hug, and said to Ike, “Bro, it’s always good to break bread with you.”
“Back at ya, man,” Ike said.
Cheryl looked at Leslie and Ike. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Anytime. You’re always welcome here,” Leslie said.
Leslie hugged Cheryl, which pleased Timothy. Mom noticed, too.
“Mrs. O, thank you, too. And I’m going to hold you to teaching me how to make the rolls. May I give you a hug?” Cheryl said.
“Uh, okay, Cheryl,” Mom said. Cheryl walked over and hugged Mom. Timothy watched and thought, This woman is a master of human relations.
As they walked to the car, Timothy thought about the evening.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
“About what?”
“My mom,” he said.
“Timothy, she loves you. You’re her baby boy. She’s glad you’re home. And she’s still trying to figure out how I fit into all of this. That’s all. She’s being a mother—a loving one, at that.”
“Yeah, maybe a little too much loving mother at times, but you’re right.”
“And I love you, too,” Cheryl said.
They hugged and kissed on the curb before climbing in the Fairlane.
Timothy twisted the key, and it fired up on the second request. He drove Cheryl home.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TIMOTHY ARRIVED AT the tree lot a few minutes before nine. Dez wanted everyone in place for the rush of customers. The first couple of hours passed quickly as the crew arranged trees, cleaned up the aisles, and made small talk. Kenny excelled at small talk, especially when it went nowhere. Kenny claimed Dez told him, “Simple people make simple talk.” Hoffen joined in some of the good-natured banter between Timothy and Kenny. Groups of customers began to arrive. Dez stood around to ensure the crew took care of the suckers. He barked orders like a field commander in combat.
“It’s your up, Hoffen,” Timothy said.
Hoffen looked up to see a family admiring a tree. “Go ahead, Tim, they’re looking at the big ones.”
“You sure?”
“Yep,” Hoffen said.
“Okay then.” Timothy turned toward the family.
Timothy had a hitch in his step this morning. It must be the cold weather today, Hoffen thought. It was Hoffen’s turn to sell, but he knew Timothy should handle this one.
“Merry Christmas,” Timothy said.
The family of four smiled—father, mother, son, and daughter, well dressed and polite. Standing there, they looked like the all-American family. Timothy handed the children a peppermint stick. Bing Crosby crooned in the background, and smoke from the fire barrel eased over them. Hoffen painted this picture yesterday for the crew. Hoffen expected Dez to show up in a Santa outfit.
“Thank you,” the children said.
Mom smiled and Dad said, “Merry Christmas to you, sir.”
“Thanks. So you like spruces?” Timothy said.
“Oh, yeah, bluish green. We’ve been getting them ever since I was a kid. I grew up in Colorado, and we got one every year,” the father said.
“Good news, kids; this tree grew up in Colorado, too. Come over here, and smell the mountains,” Timothy said.
“Be careful, children. Those needles get stiff and may stick you in the eye,” the mother said.
“Listen to your mother, guys,” the father said.
“Is this going in your living room?” Timothy said.
“Yes. We have nine-foot ceilings,” the mother said.
“In that case, the biggest tree you want is a seven-footer. Figure room on top for a star or angel and about a foot on the bottom for the stand. This is a nice, full one.” Timothy lifted the tree from the wooden rack, pounded the trunk on the ground to release the branches, and placed it in the aisle for the family to see.
“It’s a beauty,” the father said.
“Kids, let me tell you about the trip this tree made to get here,” Timothy began his tale.
Hoffen stood next to the spruce rack, leaning in to hear the story. He enjoyed each twist and turn of the tree’s journey. He admired Timothy’s storytelling. The children listened wide-eyed as if it were a bedtime story. Mom moved closer and Dad put his arm around her.
Hoffen thought, This family’s getting its money’s worth.
“Can we take this one home, Dad?” The boy said.
“Can we, Daddy, please?” The girl said.
“Sure, we’ll take it,” Dad said.
“Great. You’ve had spruces before, so you know about room temperature and how often you must water it?” Timothy said.
“Sure. It’s a thirsty tree. Otherwise, the needles get hard,” said Dad.
“You got it. I’ll carry this to the cutting area and prep the trunk for you,” Timothy said.
The father followed and watched Timothy sculpt the base.
“Boy, you know your trees,” the father said.
“I had a pretty good teacher,” Timothy said and glanced at Hoffen.
Hoffen nodded.
“This is the first time my children have ever heard a Christmas tree story. They—we—enjoyed it,” the father said.
“I’m thrilled to tell it. You know, I took some artistic license with it,” Timothy said.
“I know you did, but the kids really enjoyed it. You made it magical, and that’s what this season is all about.”
The father watched as Timothy finished his trimming. He stared at the patches on Timothy’s Army fatigue jacket. He handed Timothy thirty-five dollars.
“Sir, this it too much. The tree is only fifteen.”
“I know. The rest is for you.”
“Oh no, that’s way too much, sir. It’s generous, but I can’t take it.”
“Actually, it’s not close to being enough, Warrant Officer O’Rourke,” the father said.
Timothy paused his trimming and stared at the man. Hoffen leaned into the conversation.
“I see you know these insignias,” Timothy said.
“I’ve seen plenty, maybe too many, though I don’t recognize your unit patch,” the father said.
“It’s the 68th Assault Helicopter Company, sir. UH1H Hueys. Part of the First Aviation Brigade. We flew out of Bien Hoa airbase.”
“Yes, Bien Hoa, of course,” the father said.
Hoffen moved closer.
“I never flew into Bien Hoa. I landed at Tan Son Nhut when I flew to Vietnam,” the father said.
“Yeah, Saigon. Pilot, huh?”
“Yes, civilian. I flew for Flying Tigers Airline. We ferried a lot of you men there and home. Most of the time, we flew from Travis Air Force Base outside of San Francisco with a stop in Japan at Yokota Air Base. Sometimes Guam, too.”
“Right. Been there and done that,” Timothy said.
“The flights home were better. They called us Freedom Birds when we brought you guys back. I remember clearly the cheers from the cabin when we went wheels up. It sounded like a year’s worth of anticipation. It was too many flights and too many young men,” the father said.
“There were a lot of us for sure,” Timothy said and went back to trimming the trunk of the tree.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Hoffen watched and sensed that the man wanted to say something else to Timothy.
“I noticed you’re favoring one leg.”
“A little
something I brought home with me.”
Timothy paused and rubbed his head just as “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” began playing over the PA speakers.
“We took an RPG in the belly of our Huey. Spent some time in the Saigon hospital and a few weeks in Frankfurt. Not exactly the way I planned to see Germany. Anyway, I made it home, and I’m doing okay now.”
“I can see that. We appreciate your service. I know you guys don’t hear that often these days, but many of us respect your service,” the father said.
“It was an honor to serve, sir,” Timothy said.
The children started climbing on the tree stands and throwing the pine trimmings at each other. The crowd of customers grew. Kenny spun a yarn about a fir tree in the background. Hoffen didn’t recall telling him this particular story, but he enjoyed Kenny’s imagination.
“I guess we better get going,” the father said. “Bobby, come over here and help me carry this tree. It’s time to get home.”
Timothy froze momentarily and said, “Sir, let me do it. I’ll get some rope to secure it to your car top.”
“No, thank you. You’ve done enough already,” the father said.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
The two shook hands, their eyes locked like survivors of some terrible experience. Hoffen liked what he witnessed. A little appreciation goes a long way toward healing. And this young man needs some healing. Timothy smiled at the family and waved as they drove off.
“Nice tip?” Hoffen said.
“You bet, Hoffen. I feel like I should share it with you,” Timothy said.
“Nah, you earned it. An RPG in the gut? That’s a tough way to land,” Hoffen said.
“Real tough. I wish it had been more of a landing,” Timothy said.
“You made it out, though,” Hoffen said.
“Yes, two of us did.”
“And you were the pilot?”
“Yep. The left seat,” Timothy said.
“Left seat?” Hoffen asked.
“Sorry, the AC, aircraft commander,” Timothy said.
Timothy began to pick at his fingernails and shuffle his feet. His left eye twitched. Hoffen watched and listened.
“My crew chief and I made it back. My assistant pilot and the gunner died in the crash.”
“Tough thing to carry around with you,” Hoffen said.
“You can’t imagine,” Timothy said.
“Oh, I think I can,” Hoffen said. “Grief dies a slow death.”
Timothy paused and stared at Hoffen, whose eyes and tone said, “I know exactly how it feels.” Timothy saw that look a hundred times. Vets called it the thousand-yard stare, a penetrating gaze into nothingness, the great abyss. Hoffen displayed the look and confidence of a survivor, unflappable yet full of pain. They nodded and said nothing else. Hoffen knew not to push harder today.
“O’Rourke. Go inside. The ol’ lady’s got a phone call for you,” Dez yelled across the lot.
“Okay, Dez,” Timothy shouted. He turned and walked toward the shop.
Hoffen followed Timothy into the shop. The stale air assaulted them like the bad breath of evil incarnate. Hoffen stood close enough to hear but remained far enough to stay out of the conversation.
“For you, soldier boy,” Edna said as she handed him the phone.
“Thanks, Ed. Hello?”
Timothy’s cold, red cheeks turned pale. Hoffen knew it must be serious. He felt glad he followed Timothy into the shop.
Timothy’s voice quivered. “What’s going on? Is she okay? Is she in the emergency room still?”
The urgency in Timothy’s voice sounded serious. Edna stopped counting money in the cash drawer and looked up at Timothy.
“Failure or what?” Timothy said.
Hoffen didn’t like to hear failure in a conversation about health issues. Edna blew the ash from her cigarette.
“Has she seen a doctor? What did he say? How serious is this?”
Kenny walked in, and Hoffen motioned to him to keep it down. Dez stayed with the customers. Someone had to pay the bills.
“I know, but that’s not my concern right now. She’s going to be okay, right?”
Timothy nodded slightly and Hoffen saw relief creep into his face. Timothy’s tone changed, too.
“I’ll go to Cheryl’s. I can sleep in her brother’s room. That’s not important right now. Mom is the concern.”
Hoffen had witnessed selflessness like this in the past from people who placed the welfare of others above their own. He suspected Timothy demonstrated self-sacrifice in the war but never talked about it. Bragging didn’t fit him.
“Of course, I’m on my way. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Timothy said.
He hung up the phone and stared at space. His gaze hung frozen in the air for a few moments. Hoffen saw the thousand-yard stare. From Timothy’s face and round shoulders, Hoffen knew this was serious. Even Kenny remained silent. Edna went back to scratching around her cash drawer.
“My mom’s in the hospital. It’s a respiratory problem, a reaction to toxic furnace fumes at home. They backed up in the house, and she choked on them. She called my brother-in-law to come and get her. He took her straight to the emergency room. I have to meet them up here. Ed, I’ve got to go to the hospital, now.”
“All right. How serious?” Edna asked.
“Serious but not critical. She’ll be there for a few days until her lungs clear out.”
Timothy’s response surprised Hoffen. It sounded too clinical and almost dispassionate. Hoffen wondered what strength Timothy mustered from those few moments of silence. Hoffen knew war did not allow time to mourn. That happened later, in dreams and nightmares.
“Okay, but Dez won’t be happy you’re leaving. How long you gonna be gone? We can’t pay you if you’re not here,” Edna said.
“Edna, I’ll stay late tonight to help close up,” Hoffen said.
“Me too,” Kenny said. “Buy me a sandwich?”
Timothy smiled. Kenny’s request brought some needed relief to the moment.
“All right, I guess Dez will be okay with that,” Edna said.
“Thanks, Ed. Thanks, you guys. I appreciate it,” Timothy said. “I’ll be back in the morning on time.”
“That’s fine, Timothy. We’re glad to help,” Hoffen said.
“Yeah, no problem,” said Kenny.
“What about the furnace?” Edna asked. She went back to business.
“I’ll call someone in the morning and have them look at it so we can see what we’re dealing with.”
“Where will you stay tonight? You can stay at my place if you want.”
“Thanks, Hoffen. I’ll stay at my girlfriend’s house.”
Kenny raised his eyebrows.
“In her brother’s room,” Timothy said, and Kenny nodded. “Look, guys, I’ve got to go.”
Timothy left the shop, and the three of them said nothing. Hoffen figured none of them knew what to say. He knew he could help Timothy when the time came. They heard Timothy attempting to start his car. On the third crank it coughed its way to life.
Kenny looked at Edna. “How ’bout that sandwich?”
CHAPTER NINE
TIMOTHY RUSHED TO the hospital and a receptionist gave him a room number on the Med-Surg floor. As usual, he took the stairs. Hospital elevators moved too slow for concerned family members. Though he worked there, things smelled different to Timothy as the relative of a patient—the combination of disinfectant and sick people. Things sounded different, too—patients calling from their beds, doctor pages on the intercom system, and dinner trays clanking in the hallway. And things looked different—patients sitting in wheelchairs and lying on gurneys in the hallway. How long have they been sitting there? Are they being ignored?
“Mom, how are you?” Timothy leaned over the bed and kissed Mom on the forehead. She felt clammy and looked pale.
“Okay, I guess. My chest hurts a little,” she said, massaging it.
“You didn’t tell me that on the phone,” Timothy said.
“I didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily. I figured it could wait until you got here,” she said.
“Mom, what happened?”
“I laid down for a nap because I felt sick to my stomach, and then I had trouble breathing, so I called your sister, and Ike came right over. He’s such a fine son-in-law.”
“When I got there, the house smelled terrible from the furnace fumes,” Ike said. “It choked me and burned my eyes. I couldn’t believe Mom had been breathing that stuff. When I saw her, I knew we had to get her to the hospital. Her color was bad, so I brought her to the ER.”
“He got me here just in time,” Mom said.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Timothy said.
“It’s not your fault. You were at work,” Mom said.
“No, I’m sorry the furnace got so bad. I should’ve taken care of that earlier in the week.”
“You didn’t know this would happen,” Mom said.
Timothy glanced at Leslie and noticed her wet eyes. Ike looked solemn. Mom asked for a sip of water and for someone to adjust the head of her bed so she could sit up a little. She also wanted another blanket. She looked about as pitiful as Timothy had ever seen her.
Doctor Hanson came in.
“Evening, Tim,” the doctor said.
“Hi, Doc. Thanks for taking care of my mom.”
“She was one sick cookie when they brought her in here. The fact she has only one lung didn’t help. She told me she had it removed about twenty years ago because of a tumor.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Leslie said.
“That didn’t help with this,” Doctor Hanson said. “She got here just in time, thanks to your brother-in-law.”
“Yes, he’s a sweet man,” Mom said.
“I know. Ike knows how much we appreciate his swift action.” Timothy nodded to Ike, the reluctant hero.
“You know you can’t stay in that house? It’s toxic for anyone, especially your mother,” Doctor Hanson said.
“I know, Doc. I’ll deal with it first thing in the morning,” Timothy said.
“Okay. We want to keep your mother for a couple of days to watch for any complications. Where will she go when I discharge her?”
