12 Daves of Christmas

by Juliet Madison

  ‘It’s possible, he has a similar smile. But because of his glasses that are a bit grey, it’s hard to see his eyes. Keep him talking and I’ll let you know when I’m sure.’

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Dave said on his return. ‘Please, take a seat. Can I offer you some tea or coffee?’

  I grinned. ‘Coffee would be great, thanks.’

  A few moments later he handed me a large, thick mug of steaming liquid and I gratefully sipped from it. ‘You’re quite the barista,’ I said.

  ‘I used to volunteer at the tea and coffee stand at the local theatre’s amateur productions. And any other events where a little help was needed. Many hands make light work, so they say. Oh, give me another moment.’

  I nodded as he toddled off again, and wondered if I should ask him if he’d been in the war. But I was wary, because what if he had been and had suffered post-traumatic stress disorder and had finally come to grips with it, then I go and disrupt the peace?

  Grandma Charlotte looked around his living room, searching for clues, and when he returned and took residence in a tall armchair (to make the frequent trips to the lavatory easier to get up for), I found my attention strangely and inappropriately on his nose. The guy’s nostrils were huge. I didn’t mean to be rude or picky (eww!), but it was hard not to notice them, especially at this angle, with me on the low squishy couch looking up at him. I tried to listen to what he was talking about, but kept getting distracted. Seriously, they were like two giant black holes in their own universe, and I imagined that if he drew a deep breath I might accidentally be sucked into the deep abyss and have to cling on for dear life to the nearest available nose hair.

  ‘So that’s how the town got its name,’ he said, completing his impromptu history lesson. ‘Whoops, off I go again.’ He eased himself to standing and walked off to the bathroom. Shame his bladder wasn’t as big as his nostrils.

  ‘You’re thinking about his nostrils, aren’t you,’ Grandma said.

  I covered my eyes. ‘I feel so bad, but yes!’

  ‘Understandable. They are a bit … overwhelming. And I think that proves it. Dave didn’t have big nostrils.’

  ‘But what if they sort of grew, and elongated, over time?’

  ‘Possible, but I don’t think it’s him.’

  ‘Ahh, that’s better. I think I’ll be right for at least another twenty minutes.’ Dave whistled as he took his seat again. ‘Lucky I can move about with ease, unlike my pal Fred with his war injury.’

  I sat up straight, which was difficult on the couch that seemed to be engulfing me into its own abyss. Plus my butt still hurt a bit, and I’d had to sit on a slight angle ever since the incident. ‘War injury?’

  ‘Yes, shrapnel wounds and broken bones that never fully healed, and he’s been hobbling ever since.’

  ‘Oh right, and um, you didn’t, um, sustain any injuries yourself?’

  ‘Goodness gracious no. I was only coming of age when the war was ending. Saved by my youth, so to speak. Though I certainly would have done my duty had I been old enough to enlist.’

  I glanced at Grandma Charlotte and she tilted her head and raised her eyebrows as if to say ‘told you so’.

  ‘Now, what would you like to know for your survey?’ Dave asked.

  Once again I felt bad for deceiving him. I ran my fingers through my hair, which was in need of a conditioning treatment much like that book lady’s skin. My fingers got caught in a knot of hair and I untangled the strands then sighed. ‘Dave, I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you.’

  ‘Abby, what are you doing?’ Grandma asked and I slid a ‘not now’ glance her way.

  ‘Oh?’ Dave enquired.

  To my surprise, my bottom lip quivered and warmth welled behind my eyes. ‘I’m not really doing a survey. I’m trying to find someone for my grandma, the man she loved many years ago. All I know is his name, Dave Smith, and that he most likely lives in this region.’

  Dave leaned back a little. ‘Oh, I see. And what does your grandma think about this?’

  She stood in front of me and urged me not to tell him she was here in spirit.

  ‘She … she died.’ I caught a tear at the corner of my eye before it escaped, but Dave handed me a tissue nonetheless.

  ‘Oh, Abby Dabby.’ Grandma tried to comfort me. ‘I’m still here!’

  For now.

  ‘She never got to see him again! He didn’t return from the war, at least she thought he didn’t, but I found out that he actually did but by then she’d already married someone else and vowed never to return to where they met, so for her whole life she believed he’d died, and now that she has, I find out he’s alive!’ Everything I knew blurted out of my mouth, barring the bit about Grandma’s ghost.

  Dave leaned forward and patted my hand. ‘And you thought I might be him,’ he whispered.

  I nodded. ‘And there are only two Daves left and so far I’ve had no luck, and I can’t bear the thought of never finding him. I need to, I have to.’ I buried my face in my hands, the rollercoaster ride of the last ten days catching up with me, but the relief at spilling part of my secret was profoundly welcoming. Here I was, in a stranger’s house, next to my grandmother’s ghost. How did all this happen?

  ‘Oh, oh, don’t be upset. It’ll be alright, love. If you’re meant to find him you’ll find him. I’m a big believer in fate, you know.’

  I looked into his eyes. He’d taken his glasses off and I saw kindness in the soft, muted colours of his irises.

  He rose and picked up a photograph from the side table. ‘This is my Mavis. We didn’t marry till we were in our thirties, which I know isn’t late nowadays, but back then it was. We’d met when we were children and I always liked her. But her family moved away. Twenty-odd years later we bumped into each other again, literally. I was turning a corner and bumped into her, knocking her bag over and all its contents falling out. I helped her pick it all up and bought her a drink to make it up to her, that’s when I realised she looked familiar. We were inseparable ever since. That is, until …’ His eyes became distant and he offered a resigned smile. ‘It’s been two years now.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Dave.’

  ‘Don’t be. We had many long years together. It was no accident we bumped into each other all those years ago. And it’s no accident you’re here now, looking for Dave. Let things unfold naturally, keep the faith, and if it’s right, you’ll find him.’

  He handed me something. I unwrapped the lolly wrapper and popped the chewy eclair into my mouth. ‘Hankth,’ I mumbled my appreciation through the chewy, sticky treat.

  ‘What about me, don’t I get one?’ Grandma joked, then sidled up next to me. ‘I know he’s not Dave, but he’s lovely nonetheless. And maybe he’s right. If it’s meant to be it’ll happen.’ She nodded.

  ‘But don’t forget to pay attention to your own life too, Abby,’ he said. ‘I take it there isn’t anyone special in your life at the moment?’

  How could he tell? ‘Nope. Single for three years now.’

  ‘Now that, my dear, is a terrible shame, because you deserve happiness and I can tell you have so much to offer. But you can only offer it if you take time to look after yourself properly, fill the well so to speak. You’re not working too hard on your career, are you, at the expense of personal fulfilment?’

  I filled him in on my job and how I always seemed to be rushing towards a deadline, or procrastinating, or leaving things for ‘some other day’.

  ‘Some other day never arrives, Abby. Live each day like it’s your last.’

  His words hit home and I knew he was right. What a wise and kind old man. I could fill a whole page with his positive attributes, which certainly overshadowed his nostril issue, as I hadn’t even noticed them for the last fifteen minutes.

  ‘I will. I’ll do my best to remember that.’ I sniffed. ‘I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time, and for not being honest with you straight up. You’ve been very kind.’

  ‘Life�
�s too short not to be. Give kindness and you’ll get kindness, I like to say.’

  I stood, and he walked me to the door. ‘If you’re ever in the area again, do stop by. And let me know how you get on with things.’

  ‘I will.’ I smiled, then leaned towards him and pecked him on his cheek. His colour brightened.

  ‘I haven’t had one of those in … in far too long. Thank you, Abby.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure.’ I gave his arm a light rub and stepped out the door.

  ‘Oh, good timing,’ he said, shifting his stance to the other foot. ‘Time once again to visit my loyal companion, Mr L.’ He winked, and I chuckled at his term for the lavatory.

  I waved goodbye and returned to the car, the mood of the road trip having shifted to something different. I knew it would be coming to an end soon, the twelve Daves at least, and the inevitable second goodbye to Grandma still hung like a heavy weight in my heart.

  I put my pen to the paper and wrote ‘caring’ next to Dave number ten, my favourite of the lot so far, and as Grandma hummed a tune, a smile made its way onto my lips.

  For the tenth Dave of Christmas, my grandma gave to me

  A Dave who always has to pee …

  Chapter 12

  Today was the day. We’d be visiting the final Dave of Christmas. Like Nostril Dave, yesterday’s Dave had sadly not been the right one either, and also like him, Grandma hadn’t been sure at first. He’d been the right age, height, and had a charming smile and eyes, but there was only one problem:

  For the eleventh Dave of Christmas, my grandma gave to me

  A Dave with lovely eyes who cannot see …

  Blind. As a bat. Are bats really blind? At first I wondered if his vision loss had been from a war injury, or if it had come on in old age—macular degeneration or something, but upon further interrogation questioning we’d found out he’d been blind since birth. So that was that. Not our Dave. Funny how I thought of him now as our Dave instead of Grandma’s Dave. As Grandma had told me more and more about the dashing Dave Smith during our car trips and lunches by the water, I’d come to feel like I’d known him myself, like I knew him.

  And as we pulled up alongside Dave number twelve’s street, where a lot of other cars were parked on this sunny Sunday, I hoped we’d saved the best for last. Yesterday’s Dave had been ‘adorable’, his smile never ceasing and his gentle demeanour charming, and I hoped like hell I’d be writing ‘the one’ next to Dave number twelve.

  ‘Looks like he’s having a party,’ Grandma mused. Cars were parked across his lawn, voices and chatter filtered through from behind the walls, and a hint of meat cooking on the barbeque got my salivary glands working overtime. ‘Maybe we should come back another time,’ she suggested, getting all fidgety.

  ‘We’re here now, might as well go in. And at least we know someone’s home.’ I smiled a reassuring smile, knowing full well she was both hopeful and scared. What if it wasn’t him? What next? We’d have to start the search all over again using other means.

  As soon as the front door opened we were bombarded by music, chatter, and general noise.

  ‘Hi, come on in,’ said a middle-aged woman, ‘lunch won’t be too long. Are you a friend of Melissa’s? Anyway, come join the party.’

  I tried to tell her I wasn’t here for the party and didn’t know Melissa but before I could object, I’d been sucked into the house and swept among the crowd that packed the small living room and spilled out the back door to the patio.

  ‘Hi,’ a couple of people said, and smiled, like you do when you’re at an event and you think you should know who a person is but you don’t so you pretend you do.

  ‘Hi.’ I smiled back and turned to the woman who’d let me in to ask her about Dave but she’d disappeared. I approached another woman who was sipping from a plastic cup. ‘Excuse me, do you know where Dave is?’

  ‘Should be around here somewhere,’ she said, peering between the crowd of partygoers. ‘I’ll go look.’ She wandered off and disappeared as she weaved between bodies.

  Something tugged on the bottom of my jeans. I glanced down to find a kid about two or three attached to me. ‘I need wee-wee,’ he said.

  ‘What?’ I swivelled side to side to see if his owner parent was around, but everyone was engaged in loud conversation. ‘Where’s your mum? Or your dad?’

  ‘Wee-wee,’ was his response.

  Oh Jesus. What was I supposed to do now? ‘Um, excuse me?’ I called to no one in particular, while trying unsuccessfully to pry the kid’s hand from my jeans. ‘Who does this child belong to?’ Hurry up, for God’s sake, before he pees on me!

  ‘Take the dear child to the bathroom, Abs, there’s nothing to it,’ Grandma said.

  ‘But … how … why should I have to do it?’ Might as well speak out loud, no one was listening anyway.

  ‘There you are, Joshua!’ A young woman scooped him up with one hand, like she was picking up a jacket that had dropped to the floor. Mental note: do more arm exercises.

  Now free of yet another bladder-challenged human being, I stood on tiptoes to see where the helpful woman had gone.

  A child’s wail pierced my ears and I turned around. It wasn’t Mr Wee-Wee, it was another little boy who looked a bit younger.

  ‘Would you mind watching him while I go to the upstairs bathroom?’ asked a woman with dark bags under her eyes the size of Dave number ten’s nostrils. ‘The downstairs one is taken.’

  ‘Um …’ She’d already started up the stairs. ‘Sure.’ I sighed, then approached the abandoned child. ‘Hey there, little fella. What’s your name?’

  ‘Waaaa!’ His mouth turned upside down and he looked at me like I was the evil spawn of Satan.

  ‘Oh, hey there, don’t cry.’ I placed my hands under his armpits to lift him up, grunting from the effort. Sheesh! Are all toddlers this heavy?

  ‘Now you know where I got my strength from.’ Grandma Charlotte clenched her fist and showed off her biceps again.

  The other kid emerged happy from the bathroom, and immediately rammed into my legs, then jabbed at them with his finger. ‘Wee-wee gone, wee-wee gone!’ His mother smiled, then said, ‘Time for a drink.’ I took it to mean for her, not for her child.

  A moment later my newly acquired child’s mother trotted down the stairs and took him from me. ‘Thanks!’ She expertly weaved back into the crowd, the child on her hip.

  Before some other being attached themselves to me, I focused on looking for elderly men. Dave, Dave, which one are you? I went to the drinks table and eyed the beverages.

  ‘What’ll it be?’ a middle-aged man said. ‘I know! Green tea, right? My favourite. Here you go.’ Before I could object he shoved a plastic cup into my hand, and out of politeness I took a sip and said thanks. It was okay. He obviously thought it was more than okay because he sculled his like a shot of bourbon then filled another cup. ‘Ahh! So, how do you know the lovely couple?’

  I realised then that this must be an engagement party, unless it was a very homely and rowdy DIY wedding. ‘Actually, I’m just here to see Dave? Dave Smith?’

  The man raised his eyebrows, then the woman I’d asked earlier suddenly appeared. ‘Dave! There you are. This woman’s been looking for you.’ She clapped him on the back like a male friend would do.

  Oh no. Oh damn. Oh … I turned to Grandma who had been finding the whole scenario at the party quite entertaining up until now. Her shoulders sunk and she appeared pale and thin.

  It’s not him. Our efforts had proved fruitless.

  Grandma trudged towards the front door and disappeared. Oh no. I had to find her.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry, but I appear to have arrived at the wrong residence!’ I smacked my hand to my forehead. ‘I have the wrong Dave Smith! Sorry to intrude, I better go.’

  The guy seemed confused, but sculled another cup, then filled another. ‘You’re welcome to hang about and join in the fun if you’d like, the food’s about to be served. The more the merrier!’
r />   ‘Thanks, but I really should go.’ I kept trying to spot Grandma and worry swirled in my belly.

  ‘In that case, here.’ He shoved another cup in my hand, even though I’d barely drunk from the other one. ‘A fresh one for the road. Keeps me young, you know. It’s good stuff.’

  I accepted the offering and smiled my thanks, but now I had two hands occupied with plastic cups of tea.

  ‘Let me show you to the door.’ Dave turned the doorknob and bade me farewell, and I raised one of my cups in an attempted wave, splashing some tea on the porch.

  Before I became an honorary member of his family, I headed back to the car where Grandma Charlotte sat solemnly in the passenger seat.

  ‘Hey, it’ll be alright, remember?’ I sat next to her and could smell her rose perfume that I’d sensed periodically. She kept her focus on her hands as she fiddled with her wedding ring. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll call around the nursing homes and look up the electoral roll, try some internet strategies. We can still find him.’

  She sighed. ‘So much time and effort. You need to get back to your writing. I’m sorry to have been such a disruption for you, dear.’

  ‘Grandma, that is absolute nonsense. This trip has been so much fun, I’m so glad we did it, regardless of the outcome. And there’s still hope. Chin up, eh?’ I placed my finger gently underneath her chin, sensing a slight tingle. ‘Remember you used to tell me that, after Mum and Dad’s divorce, and after my accident? You helped keep me going, and I’m going to do the same for you.’

  She lifted her head a little and nodded. ‘Well, you better fill in his positive trait before you forget. Can’t have you slacking off now, can we.’

  I took out the Dave Itinerary and tapped the pen against my chin. Dave number twelve … he was … ‘hospitable’. Grandma nodded her approval and I jokingly asked if she wanted one of my teas that I’d placed in the drink holders.

  ‘Oh, that healthy stuff. Can’t drink it. Goes right through me.’ She laughed, and so did I.

  For the twelfth Dave of Christmas, my grandma gave to me