by M. K. Gilroy
A thought crossed Roger’s mind.
“So this is all about you feeling selfish?”
“Roger, I’m not in the mood to joke.”
“How selfish?”
“Roger, it’s Christmas Eve and I’m about to say something I’ll regret later,” she said with rolled eyes as she headed into the kitchen.
Determined, he followed.
“Since we can’t have what we want most, let’s be selfish this year,” he pressed on.
“I have no clue what you are talking about.”
“Give me a fifteen minutes and I’ll be back and explain,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.
Margaret pulled a pan of cornbread she had made to go with a small pot of chili on the stove as Roger reentered the kitchen thirty minutes later with a look of triumph.
What is he up to? He looks like the cat that swallowed the canary.
She tasted the chili. Just okay. Why was it so much harder to cook for two than to cook for a group? If the kids and their spouses and the grandkids were here it would have been the large soup pot on the stovetop with a lot of extra fixings and an array of side dishes and desserts to go with it she thought glumly.
Margaret had heard the computer printer grinding away and spitting out pages a few minutes earlier. Roger held two small sheaves of papers to his chest. He cleared his throat but didn’t say anything as she ladled
chili into the first earthenware bowl. He obviously wanted her to ask what he had come up with but she made him wait. She wasn’t feeling cooperative.
He cleared his throat again.
“Are you going to get around to asking?” he said in mock anger.
“What have you got Roger?” she asked, setting the bowl down and looking up.
“Something very selfish.”
She turned off the oven and turned to her husband. “I told you I’m not in the mood for joking today.”
“Neither am I.”
“Okay, don’t drag this out. What have you got?”
“Two tickets to London,” he said with a smile. “How soon can you pack? We’re taking the redeye tonight.”
“You’re not serious, Roger.”
“But I am. See for yourself.”
“You had to spend a fortune to get last minute tickets. In First Class.”
“I’ve got so many unused miles that the tickets were free, though there was a hefty little expedite fee. The hotel is a fortune, however.”
“Tonight? You can’t be serious. We don’t have time.”
“We have nothing else to do today. Right?”
“Right … but this is so sudden.”
“You’ve always said I’m impatient.”
“True.”
“Christmas in London is something you’ve always wanted to do. So let’s do it. I’m sure someone is doing Dickens’ ‘Christmas Carol’ on the West End. Where better to see it than London? We have no kids to worry about, so let’s make the most of it. I can’t think of a better year to go.”
She put her hands on her hips, ready to scold her husband.
This is crazy. Just up and fly to London? I have wanted to see London over the Christmas holidays …
She hugged him, planted a big kiss on his neck, and said, “You’re going to have to serve your own lunch. I’ve got packing to do.”
She took the bowl of chili and headed down the hall to the bedroom, her mind whirling.
“I couldn’t get a room at The Savoy so we’re staying at the Milestone across from Kensington Palace,” Roger called to her back.
She really didn’t care where they stayed. This really was crazy. London. It would be a cold, wet, windy mess at Christmas. But the lights would be marvelous. She loved taking the Tube but they might have to take cabs wherever they wanted to sightsee to stay out of the weather. She wondered if Harrods had half off sales like stores in the States did after Christmas. She would have to find out. She really had wanted to go to London for Christmas one year.
Roger was right. This really was the best time to do it. And the airfare was free.
“Margaret!” she heard him call from down the hall. “I’m going to run to the mall and pick up a few things for the trip. Do you want me to pick up that hot peppermint drink you like at JavaStar?”
She popped her head out the bedroom door and said, “No thanks. It’ll get cold before you’re home. You better get in and out of the mall areas as fast as you can. People turn into maniacs when they are stuck with last minute shopping—and you are one of them.”
She’d never heard of the Milestone. She wondered how much it was per night. Then she decided she didn’t want to know.
When do I tell Roger and the kids the news I got yesterday? I don’t want to mess up the holidays for anyone else.
4
Eleven Hours Earlier
She couldn’t keep doing this. This had to be her last day to work. But even when she thought she had cut all the fat out of her meager budget, the money Brad sent home and her small paycheck every two weeks didn’t go far enough.
If only he could be home now. At Christmas last year he had been certain he would be home for good six months ago—4th of July at the latest—but there were still seventy thousand U.S. soldiers in Afghanistan. Right in the middle of it all was Brad’s company, the Army First—the Big Red One Brad loved to call it. He knew she didn’t like it when he called it by its other nickname: The Bloody First.
Her job at the JavaStar outside the mall was fine. Holly had worked her way from the cash register to barista the past year. But being on her feet all day was murder. The baby was due in two weeks. A lot of women work all the way up to the delivery her OB-GYN told her cheerfully.
Most had jobs where they could sit down most of the day she wanted to answer.
She rubbed her belly and looked down to try and find her feet.
Probably better I can’t see them anymore. My ankles are hideous. Well that might not be entirely true. I’m not sure I have ankles anymore.
They will ache tonight.
All she wanted was to be home, her feet propped up, and Brad back home and safe. Beside her. She wanted his arms around her. She didn’t care if he was watching football or reading a book. She just wanted his presence with her and the baby.
He went to his CO to appeal for an extended leave before Christmas but was turned down since he would be coming home closer to the birth of the baby anyway. They couldn’t spare him for two weeks?
And what if the baby comes early? He probably won’t, but what if he does? That would be only one extra week.
She hated the thought of being alone for Christmas. Her mom was going to try and drive up, but said she didn’t have enough vacation time to make the trip and then come back when the baby was born.
I’m glad you are coming for the baby Mom, but what about me?
Things hadn’t been the same between Holly and her mom since she married Brad just after she finished JuCo. The plan was to wait until she finished her BA from a four-year-college. She gave it the old college try for a semester, but with Brad months from deployment, the two couldn’t wait any longer.
They thought getting married would make finishing college for her easier. He had few expenses on his tour of duty and was able to send most of what he made back home. But then the little strip of paper turned blue and life got a little more complicated.
Despite her mom’s disapproval Holly didn’t regret her decision for a moment. Even if her mom was right. Yes, it was a rash decision. Maybe a little foolish. But weren’t you supposed to be a little foolish when you fell in love?
Brad had a history degree from A&M and planned on being a teacher when he opted out of the Army. He wanted to coach. But as a member of the ROTC his way through college was paid by Uncle Sam. Even though he had no student loans to contend with, there was still a bill to be paid. It came due immediately after he walked off the stage at graduation. With a major shortage of officers, there was no question where his first assignmen
t would be as a newly commissioned lieutenant first class.
She let him know she was pregnant a week before he left. Then she called to let her mom know. Her tears and words—“you are screwing up your life”—still ached inside her, right next to the baby.
Holly’s mom raised her as a single parent and she and Holly had always been close. Her mom had hammered a college degree in her head. Marriage and pregnancy had put a strain between them they had never experienced and that Holly could hardly believe.
Her mom raised her to know right and wrong. Taught her to be kind, forgiving, and generous. She had modeled those ideals too. But her disappointment in Holly going a different route than planned—actually the route she herself had taken and that hadn’t worked out—had drive an icy wedge that left Holly feeling so alone.
Something’s gotta give. She’s going to accept all this and be herself again so we can be close again.
Her mom swore that it wasn’t the reason, but Holly couldn’t help but believe that disappointment in her was why Mom had taken a job transfer two states away. She couldn’t bear to see all she had worked and planned and hoped for with Holly change so dramatically.
Don’t I get to have a say in my life and my future, Mom?
She looked down at the thermostat popping out of the silver frother she steamed the milk in. 160 degrees. Ready to pour over two shots of espresso. She had gotten quite good at making a leaf design from the foamy milk on the surface.
She looked up and a man was glaring at her.
“Did you make my drink?”
“I don’t know. Probably so,” she said hesitantly.
Gerald was making drinks, too, but he had disappeared in the back room for a second.
“Well you screwed it up royally,” he nearly shouted. “I asked for an extra shot of espresso and I asked for it extra hot. What I got is weak and lukewarm.”
Holly bit her lip. “Let me make that for you again, sir.”
“I’m working, so I want it done next,” he demanded.
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t have time for this. I wouldn’t think making a strong, hot cup of coffee was rocket science.”
Holly felt like a hippopotamus waddling over to the window to hand the drink she had just finished to Gwynn, who was working the drive thru.
“If you don’t spit in his drink, I will,” Gwynn whispered, giving Holly a sad little wink and squeezing her hand.
Holly took a deep breath, fought back a tear, and turned back. People were shaking their heads and looking at her in sympathy.
“Don’t let this get you down for Christmas, young lady,” a kindly older gentleman with white hair said to her, concern in his eyes.
She looked around with the freshly made latte. The man that had yelled at her was gone.
5
Ten Hours Earlier
“I hope we have something besides turkey tomorrow,” she said to her husband.
“Why even bring it up?” he said back to her. “You know my mom is going to bake a turkey.”
“Turkey is for Thanksgiving. Couldn’t we have something else for Christmas?”
“Don’t bring it up.”
She sighed. “And I hope your sister’s kids aren’t going to be monsters again this year.”
“They’re kids. Kids are monsters.”
They both laughed at that.
This is nauseating, Joe thought, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“And that’s why we aren’t going to have kids,” she said.
Joe turned into a cul-de-sac and the man said, “Last house on the right. The one with the plastic reindeer and sleigh out front.”
That got the couple laughing again.
“Your parents are a hoot, Daniel,” she said, almost crying from her laughter. “Where did you find them?”
Yeah, yeah, real funny.
“The stork brought them,” he answered. “I’ve been looking at that same set of decorations since I was young enough to believe my dad when he told me Santa kept his sleigh parked in our front yard.”
Joe’s stomach did a somersault as he wondered if there would be any turkeys left at Kroger. Just the three of us he thought, doesn’t have to be a big one.
He pulled into the driveway, popped the trunk lid, and lifted out two roller board suitcases as an elderly couple ambled forward with beaming smiles to hug their son and daughter-in-law.
“Do you take a credit card?” the son asked.
Joe’s heart sank. With a credit card, his tip money would show up on his 31st paycheck. He needed it now.
Before he could tell him it was no problem, the dad said, “I got this. You paid for the airline tickets. I can get the cab. I still can’t believe my doctor won’t let me drive so I can come to the airport to get you myself.”
“It’s no problem Dad.”
“Get your stuff inside.”
“Dad, let me—” the son started to protest but then two kids raced from the side of the house yelling, “Uncle Danny!” at the top of their lungs and chucking snowballs. Daniel ducked, smiled, and scooped the kids up as his wife moved away quickly to avoid the flurry of wet arms and legs.
“How much?” the father asked Joe with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Fifty-five bucks,” Joe answered.
Did the man stiffen? Fifty-five bucks sounded like a lot. People didn’t understand what the price of gas and insurance had done to a simple cab fare.
The man pulled out four twenties, then fixed him with a smile, and said, “Merry Christmas.”
Joe reached for his wallet to get change but the man squeezed his arm and said, “Let’s call it even,” before heading back to the front door.
“Merry Christmas to you too, sir.”
The man didn’t turn back. He probably didn’t hear him. Might be hard of hearing or maybe Joe’s voice had gone soft.
For the third time that day Joe felt tears welling in his eyes. Twice from humiliation. This time from gratitude.
I’m glad your daughter gave you kids and I hope your daughter-in-law knows how blessed you all are to have kids running around the house. They’re not monsters. They’re angels. And I will have my angels soon.
It was his fourth fare of the day and three of his customers had tipped in cash. He needed cash. Maybe it would be a merry Christmas after all.
He backed out of the drive, shifted into drive, and pulled forward.
His kids—his angels and the only thing he seemed to have to live for—liked to decorate cookies. He would make it a Christmas morning activity. They would bake the cookies in reindeer, star, tree, wreath, sleigh, and other holiday shapes. After the cookies cooled, the three of them would make a huge mess decorating them with different icing colors and sparkles and Red Hots and M&Ms and anything else they could think of.
He felt hopeful. The kids would love it. He used to be good at stuff like this.
He might have enough cash to take them to the movie theatre the next day.
He started adding up ticket prices and popcorn in his mind and thought he might be able to nab one more fare to be sure he had enough cash on hand. He would hustle home and get cleaned up before picking Jonathan and Leslie up.
I’ll just rent a couple videos from the box outside McDonalds. I’ll bet there will be nonstop holiday movies on regular TV we can watch. Might be better than going to the movie theatre and fighting the crowds.
Whatever makes them happy.
Joe just hoped Kroger had at least one small turkey left.
His stomach twisted and lurched as he replayed the scene of him yelling at the girl at JavaStar. She really had screwed up his coffee drink, which shouldn’t have happened.
But how was I to know she was pregnant?
Just how far had he fallen? This was the bottom wasn’t it?
6
Nine Hours Earlier
Second degree burns on his right arm and shoulder. Poor little guy. Six-years-old, that age when little boys are going to climb, no
matter how many times you tell them not to. Her boys had all climbed. Troy had a couple stitches on his chin from falling off the kitchen table when he was three. Jason broke her favorite lamp with a donkey kick from jumping off an end table onto the couch. Donny never got hurt. But if he went missing as a little kid, the first place to look was up; he was usually in the top branches of the maple tree in the front yard.
Apparently little Eduardo was excited that all his cousins were at his house and thought it would be a good idea to pull the pan drawer out from under the stove to use as a step, then chin himself up to see what smelled so good up there. He pulled a pot of apple cider off the stovetop. Thank God only a few splashes hit his face. But Eduardo would have some permanent scars down the shoulder and arm.
Eduardo would never forget this Christmas. It was going to be painful and he wasn’t going to spend it at home with his cousins.
He was sleeping like an angel now, heavily sedated. Nothing was harder in her profession than hearing the scream of a child in pain.
Regina brushed a tear out of her eye. What had happened to her sweet little Donny? He was such a good little boy. When did he start getting in trouble? Twelve? Thirteen? Boys get in trouble, but with him, his attitude went south so hard and so fast. Maybe Troy and Jason spoiled her and Douglas. Even when they disobeyed they were charming … and even respectful if that is possible. It didn’t help that Douglas had been laid off for six months. Being out of work had been hard on him. On her. On their marriage. Whether Donny would have shown more respect to his dad if he was still first shift foreman on the assembly line at AppWorks, she didn’t know.
Donny was sixteen and responsible for his own actions. She didn’t want to blame others for his shortcomings, but once he hit his last year of middle school and had become constant friends with Hugh, Scott, and Duane—especially Duane—whatever problems were already there had gotten worse. Much worse. He might join his brother in Afghanistan, but for entirely different motives and on an entirely different path.
