Midnight Before Christmas

by William Bernhardt

  “Please. I’ll be glad to get it off my hands.”

  The mother reached for her own purse. “Then let me give you something.”

  “That really isn’t necessary.”

  The mother withdrew a large glass bottle filled with green liquid. “I got this last night at the office Christmas party. You know, one of those gag gift exchanges.”

  Megan took the extra-large bottle of Listerine. “Boy, those gag gifts are some kind of funny, aren’t they?”

  “I gave a giant-size roll-on Arrid Extra Dry.”

  “That’s clever, too.” She dropped the mouthwash into her bag, which was now even heavier than before. “Well, thanks very much.”

  The mother smiled and waved. “Merry Christmas.”

  Megan waved back. “Ho, ho, ho.”

  As it turned out, once they got in, the hearing took less than ten minutes. Judge Harris, a middle-aged career judge who knew her way around domestic law backwards and forwards, was particularly expeditious, in part no doubt due to the size of the horde outside. The judge would probably be on duty till midnight no matter what she did.

  Megan put Bonnie on the stand to give a brief account of her nightmarish life since her breakup, of how Carl had stalked her and her son, threatened her, even tried to poison Tommy. Then, in a broken voice, barely able to speak, she told the horrific account of Carl’s visit to her home that morning, of punching her boyfriend and neighbor, of smashing his hand through the windowpane. Megan suspected Bonnie could’ve gotten her restraining order right then and there, but after Bonnie proceeded to recount Carl’s attempt to kidnap Tommy, there was no uncertainty about the outcome.

  Just for good measure, Megan entered into evidence a copy of the police reports for each of the earlier incidents. And in return, she got an impressive-looking restraining order signed by the judge, prohibiting Carl Cantrell from coming near Bonnie, Tommy, or their home.

  “I’ll schedule a formal hearing for three weeks from today,” Judge Harris said, marking the date on her calendar. “You’ll have to serve notice on her ex-husband before then.”

  “I’ll take care of it, your honor,” Megan said, making notes.

  “Do you have any idea where the man is?”

  “No. But I’m hoping the police will find him. They do have his license-plate number.”

  The judge nodded. “I hope so, too. For everybody’s sake.”

  12

  By the third round, Carl was drinking Scotch and water, hold the water. But the medicine was doing its work; the liquid comfort coursed through his veins, numbed his body. After a while he was able to forget the pain-the physical pain, at any rate. The only reminder came every time he bent his elbow, as the sharp stabbing agony reminded him that he had sliced up his arm only hours before.

  He tossed back the remains of his shot glass, savoring the sensation of hot burning fluid hitting the back of his throat. Feel the burn, as the boys on the force used to say. Feel it washing away all the hurt, all the misery. It erased everything, Carl realized.

  Everything except memory.

  He couldn’t forget that it was Christmas Eve. He couldn’t forget that his son would be spending the day with some slimeball who wasn’t his father. He couldn’t forget that his wife would be spending the night with the same slimeball. And he couldn’t forget that he had failed to do a damn thing about it.

  “I’ll have another round,” he said, marginally aloud. Was he slurring his words? Damn, he thought maybe he was. And maybe that was a good sign. He’d long since acquired the skill of drinking to excess and not letting the effects show. Maybe this meant he was crossing a new threshold, reaching a new peak.

  Or maybe he was just becoming a sloppy drunk. Who the hell knew? Either way, he wanted another drink.

  “Hey, Joe!” he shouted. “Hit me!”

  The substantial, big-boned man with the white apron around his waist pivoted in Carl’s direction. “My name ain’t Joe.”

  “Ain’t-” Carl slapped his forehead, a bit harder than he really intended. “Right, right. Joe tossed me.” He attempted a grin that he hoped might be something like charming. “And your name is-?”

  “Mister Bartender to you. And I think you’ve had enough.”

  “Aw, don’t start with that. I hate that.” He could tell he was weaving a bit, which could be dangerous on a bar stool. He cleared his throat, concentrated on controlling his body movement and diction. “Come on, please. I’m just getting started.”

  “I could get my license yanked if-”

  Carl spread his arms wide. “Hey, it’s Christmas!”

  Mister Bartender whipped a Scotch bottle out from beneath the counter, a bitter frown on his face. “This is the last one, buddy. And I mean it.”

  Carl scooped up the refilled glass and cradled it in his hands. “You’re a Christian saint, pal. A Christian saint.” The glass was mere inches from his lips when he heard a shrill beeping noise from somewhere nearby.

  He jumped, almost spilling the precious contents of the glass. He focused his eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning. Was that some kind of fire alarm? Was there a raid?

  He noticed that all the other patrons at the bar were looking at him. Did they know something?

  The burly bearded man at the next stool leaned his way. “It’s your phone, you mook.”

  He pressed his hands against his chest. Damn! His cell phone; he’d almost forgotten he had the thing. Not like anyone ever called anymore.

  He whipped the phone out of his coat pocket. He hoped he had enough battery power to take the call; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d charged it. ’Course, at the moment, he couldn’t remember much of anything.

  He flipped the lid open and pressed the Send button. He twisted away from his neighbor, finding some measure of privacy on the other edge of his bar stool. “Yeah?”

  “Carl, is that you?”

  Carl froze. His lips parted, but he didn’t know what to say, couldn’t think-

  “Bonnie?” It was barely a whisper, as if he didn’t dare risk shattering the dream by saying her name out loud. “Is that you?”

  “It’s me, baby. Can you talk?”

  This can’t be real, he thought to himself. This can’t be happening. “I–I can talk.”

  “Carl, I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened. I never meant for things to turn out like this.”

  “I–I didn’t either, honey.”

  “We shouldn’t be fighting. A family should be together on Christmas Eve.”

  Carl’s head was swimming, supercharged with adrenaline and excitement. “I know, honey. That’s what I’ve been saying. That’s what I’ve been saying all along.”

  “I’ve been so wrong, Carl. I’ve been so bad. I know I have.”

  “No, honey. It was me. All me.”

  “No, I’ve treated you like hell. I’ve kept you away from your boy. That was wrong. A boy needs his daddy.”

  Tears cascaded down Carl’s cheeks. He couldn’t help himself. She was saying all the right words. “It’s okay, honey.”

  “It’s not okay. It was wrong. But I’d like to make it better now. I mean-if you’ll let me.” He could hear her breathing deeply, swallowing her pride. “If you’ll still have me.”

  “Of course I will, honey. You know I will.”

  “You’re so good to me, Carl. You always have been.”

  “Aw, honey, I love you. You know I do.”

  “I know, Carl. I want you to come to me. Please. Now.”

  “But-” He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. Was this a dream or a hallucination? “But what about Frank?”

  “Frank is gone, Carl. Gone forever. He’s out of my life.”

  “Are-are you sure, honey?”

  “I’m sure. That was such a mistake. I don’t know what came over me. But I know this: I want to start doing things right. Starting today. Starting with you.”

  “I do too, baby. I do too.”

  “A
nd-oh, there’s so much more I want to tell you. To show you. I’ll-well, I’ll let it be my Christmas surprise.”

  “I love surprises, baby. Especially from you.”

  “Please come to me, Carl. Come now.”

  Carl’s hand began trembling. “I–I’ll be right over, sweetheart. Where are you?”

  “I’m at home. Don’t ring the bell; I don’t want Tommy to know that we’re together again yet. Let it be his Christmas surprise. He’ll be so happy.”

  “Whatever you want, Bonnie.”

  “Just come to the house and wait outside. When I see you, I’ll come out to meet you.”

  “I’ll be there, Bonnie. I’m leaving right now.”

  “Please do, Carl. I can’t wait to be with you. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms, to feel you pressing up against me-”

  “I’m coming, Bonnie. I’m coming right now.”

  “And Carl?”

  He jerked his head back to the receiver. “Yes, baby?”

  “I love you, Carl. I–I always did, you know.”

  The line disconnected. Carl suddenly realized his face was bathed in tears. He was blubbering like a baby. Everyone in the bar was staring at him-and he didn’t care. He just didn’t care.

  It would take him ten minutes to get back to the alley where he’d ditched the pickup. Maybe less if he ran. After that, it wouldn’t take him fifteen minutes to get to Bonnie’s house.

  To their house.

  He tossed the contents of his wallet down on the counter, wiped his eyes, and raced out the door. The bracing wind gripped him, shook him, roused him, cleared his head.

  This was really happening, he told himself. Really, really happening. He was coming home.

  He was part of a family again. On Christmas Eve.

  Bonnie stretched across the sofa and punched the button disconnecting the speakerphone. “How did I do?”

  Frank sat at the end of the sofa, her feet in his lap. “You were brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.” He bent down and kissed her big toe. “Do you think he’ll come?”

  She laughed. “I know he’ll come.” She readjusted the pillow under her head. “Idiot.”

  “Good. And all will go as planned?”

  “Are you kidding? The stage is set. After that scene you provoked this morning, after the fool tried to kidnap Tommy-hell, by now the police must assume he tried to poison the kid. They’re scouring the city for him, and I’ve got a restraining order in my pocket-which the chump is about to violate. Everything is set up perfectly.”

  “I’m so glad.” Frank wriggled the top of her foot into his mouth and nibbled on the tips of her toes.

  “Will you be ready?” Bonnie asked pointedly.

  “Oh, yes. Oh, yes.” He lowered her feet gently to the sofa, then reached across the end table to his black tote bag. Carefully he removed the sturdy wooden box inside, opened it, and took out the shiny silver pistol resting inside.

  He checked to make sure it was loaded. “Very ready.”

  Bonnie stretched out, her face settling into a happy smile. “That’s good,” she said, curling up like a kitten on the overstuffed cushions. “After all, I did promise the man a Christmas surprise.” She began to laugh. “And boy, is he ever going to get one.”

  13

  Carl was practically driving on autopilot as he made his way to Bonnie’s house. The sky could’ve fallen down around him; he would never have noticed. All he could hear, all he could think about were those last tender words, the words that kept ringing in his ears and wouldn’t stop: “I love you, Carl. I always did.”

  He had known she loved him, he thought as he zipped by the state capitol on Lincoln Boulevard. He’d known it. Deep down, she couldn’t have meant all those horrible accusations. It was just a brain fever or something, just an aberration. Now they would get back to how things were supposed to be.

  He swerved around the corner of Fifteenth Street, almost lifting the pickup onto two wheels. He wasn’t driving well, he knew that. He’d had too much to drink. Couldn’t see straight and wasn’t thinking clearly, either. But what could he do?

  He had to get there. He had to get there. He had to get there.

  The words rushed back to him, blocking out all distractions, all reason, all rational thought.

  “I love you, Carl. I always did.”

  Megan had just about decided to call it a day. She unhooked Jasper’s leash and prepared to haul him home for whatever Christmas they could look forward to when the phone rang.

  “He’s coming!” the voice on the phone said before Megan had a chance to say hello.

  “Bonnie? Is this you?”

  “He’s coming! He’s on his way!”

  “Carl? Carl is coming?” She wrapped the leash back around her lamp. “Does he know about the restraining order?”

  “He doesn’t care. He says he’s coming to take Tommy away. And he says he’ll kill anyone who gets in his way.”

  “Call the police, Bonnie.”

  “They won’t come-”

  “Bonnie, you listen to me!” Megan put on her most authoritative voice. “Hang up the phone and call the police. They will come. You don’t have time to mess around. Call now!”

  “All right.”

  “I’ll come, too. But you have to call the police. Tommy’s life is in danger. And so is yours!”

  Frank brushed his hand around Bonnie’s face, stroking her ears, caressing her chin. “Have I mentioned lately that you’re magnificent?”

  “Not as often as you should.” She pushed herself up off the pillows. “I am rather good, though, aren’t I? That little tremor I get in my voice? That broken, halting quality.”

  “Positively brilliant. So what are we going to do now?”

  Bonnie slipped her hands playfully under his shirt. She stroked his chest. “Like the woman said. I’m going to call the police.”

  Carl knew he was taking the curve off Fifteenth Street too fast, but he couldn’t help himself-he wanted to be there so badly! The tires screeched; he left a lot of rubber on the pavement. He swerved to one side and careened into the curb. He whipped the steering wheel around, trying to jackknife the truck back onto the street, but he was too slow. His truck plowed into the corner stop sign before he had even seen it.

  He hit the brake and the pickup ground to a halt. Holy mother of-

  He checked himself, making sure he was still intact, making sure he hadn’t done any additional damage to himself. Everything seemed to still be attached. Still here. Still alive-

  The pickup, however, was trashed. Smoke was rising out of the hood.

  Never mind. He didn’t have time for that. He didn’t have time for anything except Bonnie. Bonnie and Tommy. Bonnie and Tommy and Carl, together again.

  He popped open the glove box and removed the small service revolver he still had after all these years. Surely he wouldn’t need it, not after everything Bonnie had said. But he wasn’t taking any chances. Not anymore.

  He slid out of the pickup cab, landed on his feet. His neck ached. But it didn’t matter. Just didn’t matter.

  He could walk from here. Or run. It was barely half a block. He jogged down the side of the street, leaving the wreck behind, ignoring the pain in his neck, his back, his arm. He had to get to her. Had to get there now.

  As he approached, a neighbor stepped out of the house next door. Was it the same man he had flattened this morning? Carl wondered. He couldn’t remember. A neighbor was a neighbor, right?

  “Now, Carl, I can’t let you go in there.”

  Carl, the man had called him-like he knew him or something. Maybe he did-Carl wasn’t sure. His vision was blurred and he was having a hard time making out the lines of the man’s face.

  “Why don’t you just leave those nice folks alone?”

  He was a big man, this neighbor was, Carl noted. But he knew he could take him. He hadn’t spent all that time at the academy learning exotic self-defense methods for nothing. The man was an obstacle, that’s all
. An obstacle between him and his family. And he’d had about as much of those obstacles as he could take.

  “Be reasonable, man. It’s time to get on with your life.”

  Don’t you see? That’s what I’m trying to do, Carl thought, but somehow he couldn’t make the words come out. It didn’t matter. This was no time for words.

  Carl reared back his fist and aimed a roundhouse punch at the neighbor’s chin. The man ducked, managing to avoid the swing.

  “Don’t make me hurt you, Carl. It’s Christmas Eve. I don’t wanna-”

  “I will not let you keep me from my family!” Carl bellowed, then charged, gun at the ready. The neighbor turned and ran, looking as if he’d stared Death straight in the eye.

  Once he’d chased the man out of the yard, Carl turned back toward the house, propelled by his confusion and rage. “I will not let you keep me from my family!” he shouted, waving his gun in the air.

  “Not anyone. Not anymore!”

  Inside the house, Frank and Bonnie crouched beneath the front window.

  Frank tossed the pistol absently from one hand to the other. “Is it time?”

  Bonnie smiled, then stroked him affectionately. “Not quite yet.”

  Megan pushed her car to the limit. She could hear the frame of the old rattletrap Toyota vibrating ominously, but she put it out of her mind. She blitzed down Lincoln Boulevard as quickly as she could, blazing a trail to Bonnie’s house.

  As she turned onto Fifteenth, she saw two black-and-white police cars making the same turn just ahead of her. Thank God-the word had gotten through. If Carl was desperate enough to violate the restraining order, to return to the house only hours after that scene this morning, he must’ve lost control, must’ve lost all grip on reality. There was no telling what he might do.

  She pushed her little car down the seemingly endless length of Fifteenth Street, just praying that she and the cops got there in time.

  Even in the midst of his rage, Carl remembered that she had told him not to come to the door. Wait outside, she had said. I want to surprise Tommy.

  Well, here he was. He had fought like a maniac to get here. So where was she?