Almost. But he had a bone-deep, sick-making thought.
Christmas was the time he’d planned on calling his dad. The call that would kick-start his real life. They’d move home. Everything would be okay again. It’d be better than okay. It’d be the way life was supposed to be.
He ignored everything on the way home – his unbuttoned coat, the freezing air leaching the warmth from his bones. He ignored Julia’s handmade Christmas decorations taped to the front window: Frosty the Snowman with cotton balls stuck to his body, Santa waving from a rooftop, snowflakes cut from white paper. He chucked his coat and boots at the front entry, trudged up the stairs, and locked his bedroom door.
He buried his head in his pillow and even ignored Buddy scratching at the door. The door stayed locked while Julia and his mom went for a Christmas tree.
They’d always had a perfect tree – a long-needled Scotch pine that barely fit through the front door. Dad would saw the bottom flat and release the fragrance of the forest. Then he’d secure it in the stand and put up his feet while the rest of the family decorated it. Every year, Danny and Jennifer fought over the tinsel. Jen loved it, but he hated it because Buddy would track it all around the house. The first year they had him, he ate it and got sick on the carpet. Dad had banished the puppy to the basement for the next two days, and Danny squirmed as he listened to him whine. Dad said it was the only way he’d learn. And Dad was always right.
Mom found a compromise. They’d have tinsel every second year.
Danny heard the front door open and shut. “Davey!” Mom called up the stairs. “Come down for lunch, and we’ll put up the tree.”
He waited half an hour before he went down.
It was an artificial tree.
Wordlessly, he snatched his coat and Buddy’s leash, and they bolted out the door. They stayed out until Buddy started taking mincing steps, trying to shorten the time his feet touched the frigid concrete. Reluctantly, Danny turned back to the condo and stomped through the door. He could see the Christmas hamper from the food bank on the kitchen floor. Mom had borrowed some Christmas CDs from the library, and Frank Sinatra crooned “White Christmas” as Mom and Julia draped the final decorations on the tree. It hadn’t taken long – the tree was already strung with mini-lights when they brought it home. It was obviously a display model. The ornaments were mainly red, green, and gold baubles, made in China out of paper-thin glass. Some of them were still in the box, already broken.
A bargain-basement Christmas.
The jolly Santa didn’t look old enough to shave, let alone grow a beard, when he arrived with the Santa’s Anonymous delivery on Sunday. They used to donate to the Santa’s collection box. Now this pathetic looking Santa left four wrapped packages for Julia and him and one for Mom. Julia shook each one before placing it under the tree. She’d always done that, he remembered, but it had angered Dad, so she’d do it when he wasn’t around.
And they’d never had only nine presents under the tree.
He’d never felt this lousy. It was as if the holiday spirit had dried to dust in his heart.
Danny trudged over to the mall. He usually spent his measly allowance as soon as he got it on comic books, gum, pop, and chocolate bars. He hadn’t saved up any money to buy his mother and sister a present, and this week’s four dollars wasn’t going to go very far. He drifted past window displays packed with things he couldn’t afford, and the impossibility of having them made Danny want them even more. And there were those TV ads – happy families leading perfect lives chock-full of good times, laughter, comfort, and love. Everyone had what they wanted, and no one ever cried. Danny wanted the TV ad life, but what he lived was the six o’clock news.
Christmas Eve. Walking Buddy, the snow scoured his skin like sandpaper, and when it wasn’t snowing the wind hit him dead center. Mom had lit candy cane scented candles around the house and more gifts had appeared under the tree. Danny retreated to the cold basement, cocooned in the old gray car blanket. Inactivity had paralyzed him and guilt had petrified him. paralyzed him and guilt had petrified He hadn’t bought any presents.
And now it was too late.
Danny stayed under the covers until almost eleven o’clock on Christmas morning. He spent another hour shunning the Christmas music drifting up the stairs. He tried to block the smell of roasting turkey by shoving his blanket against the crack under the door. In the end it was Julia’s pounding on his door that got him moving.
“Get up! I’ve waited all morning for you and I’m not gonna wait any more! I don’t care if you stay in there all day!” The words came hard and fast from the nine-year-old.
When he was nine, he’d still believed in Santa Claus. Julia had waited until noon to open her few gifts. He clutched his stomach, went into the bathroom, leaned over the toilet, and retched.
Julia greeted him with her hands on her hips. “It’s about time.” She’d divided the gifts into three piles. Danny had seven gifts, Julia had eight, and Mom had two.
“Can we start?” Julia asked.
Mom looked at Danny. “Do you…” her voice faltered.
He looked away.
“Sure, Jewel, go ahead,” Mom said.
Julia picked up the first box and shook it. It was large, rectangular, and flat, and made a faint rattling sound.
“It’s a board game,” she announced, as she ripped off the To Julia from Santa Claus HO-HO-HO tag and paper. It was a board game – Sorry. She bit her lip and began to sniffle. She already had the game, but she’d left it in Edmonton.
“Jewel,” Mom said softly. “It was fun to play before, and it’ll still be fun to play now. Okay?”
“Yeah, Mom,” Julia replied, quickly swallowing and setting it aside.
Next was a book – Walt Disney’s Children’s Cookbook, brightly illustrated with Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Beauty and the Beast. Julia flipped through and asked Mom when she could start cooking.
“Any time, Jewel,” she replied.
“Look!” she said when the third box contained a string of mini lights covered in a rainbow of miniature, Japanese-style paper lanterns.
“Will you help me put these up in my room?” Julia asked, stretching them along the floor.
“Maybe David would help you,” Mom suggested.
Danny looked away.
A long narrow box tagged, To Jewel with love from Mom held soccer shin pads. She immediately tugged them on. “I can hardly wait for soccer season,” she said, prancing around the living room.
Soccer? Danny thought. When had his sister started liking soccer? He looked over at her, and for the first time in a long time, she was not invisible. It was almost as if someone else’s sister – a stranger – had appeared in the house, challenging the memories he had of his real sister.
“Here’s some eggnog, Davey-boy,” Mom said gently. He reached for the glass and their eyes met. “How about opening some gifts?” When he didn’t move, she nudged one over.
He stared at the tag. To David, Merry Christmas from Santa Claus HO-HO-HO. A Santa’s Anonymous gift for an anonymous boy. He opened it. It was a Teenager’s Excuse Ball. Have a problem? Roll the ball for your excuse. Fifteen Options: 24-Hour Flu, Abducted by Aliens, Amnesia, Bicycle Problems, Full Moon, Huh?, I was Mugged, It’s in the Mail, It’s not My Job, I’ve got a Headache, Kryptonite, My Dog Ate It, My Fish Died, The Voices Told Me To, What Homework?
It was Mom’s turn to bite her lip.
The next couple of gifts were hits. For Julia, a hot water bottle with a fuzzy cover shaped like a lamb. Danny unwrapped an illuminated Frisbee, deep yellow, and shot through with brilliant white lights. Fire Frisbee the label said. He twirled it on his fingertip and Buddy was all over him.
“No, Bud, this one’s not for you,” he said. No, this one I’ll keep to play with my…friends.
A box with four movie passes. A red-and-white Canada flag hacky-sack ball.
Mom opened her first gift. To Mom from Santa Claus HO-HO-HO. A handmade tea cozy
shaped like a poodle held assorted tea bags. She flipped through the exotic names – Formosa Oolong, Jasmine, Lapsang Souchong. Danny knew she was a coffee drinker. “I can serve them when company comes over,” she announced. The second Santa’s gift was a box of scented bath salts. Danny knew she generally showered. “They’ll smell lovely,” she said.
Danny and Julia had identical large boxes. He knew what to expect. To my Son, All my Love Always, Mom. Socks, underwear, jeans, a T-shirt, and a sweater. All of them new and expensive looking. His hands fumbled with the clothes as he tried to put them back, but the box seemed to have gotten too small. Mom watched silently.
Julia glowed as she reached into a bag she’d hidden under a couch cushion. She handed Danny a surprisingly heavy plastic margarine tub topped with a green and red foil bow. “Don’t shake it,” she warned. “They might chip.”
He hefted the tub up and down, each movement piling lead weights on his heart.
He knew what it was.
He loosened the tape.
She’d nestled at least a dozen painted stones – smooth round ones shaped like flattened eggs – in a tissue-paper nest. She’d painted each one a solid color and then decorated it with a symbol. One had a sun, unmistakable from a million children’s drawings, another had a quarter moon. There was an Egyptian eye, a star, a red circle with a green stem coming out of what he guessed was an apple. One of the larger stones was painted light blue, with a black-and-white patchwork. He held it in his hand.
“It’s supposed to be Buddy,” Julia said, “but it didn’t come out so good.”
He swallowed. Stones can help you be strong. He hadn’t seen Grandpa’s stone in months. He looked down, squeezed his eyes and his heart shut.
“And what have we here,” Mom said loudly, drawing Julia’s attention away from her brother. She made a show of shaking a box by her ear. “Hmmm, what can it be?” she mused, reading the tag aloud. To Mom from Jewel.
“Open it, Mom,” Julia said impatiently.
“Okay, okay, let me enjoy it,” she laughed. Inside were two stud earrings with glittering artificial garnets and a bottle of matching nail polish labeled, Red Dawn.
“I bought the earrings for you,” Julia said, scooting over to sit beside her mother, “and then I thought I could paint the nail polish on you and you could paint it on me.”
Mom looked at her hands. Her nails still didn’t show much visible white. She looked up and smiled at Julia.
“Maybe I could help you grow your nails again, Mom.”
“That’d be great, Sweetie. I’m going to make it my New Year’s resolution.” She hugged her daughter with a tenderness that made Danny ache.
Julia still had her large box. “Clothes,” she announced, ripping off the gold bow. Fruit-of-the-Loom socks, days-of-the-week panties, jeans, a T-shirt, a hoodie. Without pausing, she scooped up the clothes and dashed upstairs.
That left Danny and his mom alone. Mom put on a new CD. He started to tug at his box of clothes. Then he blurted, “I didn’t get anything.”
She nodded. “I understand. But I’m not sure Jewel will.” She paused. “I have to go baste the turkey,” she said, leaving him alone to face his sister.
Julia bounced down and trotted into the kitchen. He imagined her pirouetting before their mother, showing her the new clothes. He heard both of them laugh, and he pictured Mom pulling his sister into another tight hug, the love between them bringing out the best in each other.
Julia returned to the living room, where Danny had not moved. She confronted him, hands on hips.
“You didn’t get us anything, did you?”
He stared back at her.
“At least you could have made an effort.”
“What’d ya want me to do? Go steal something?”
She curled her hands into fists. “You treat me like I’m invisible. You’re no different than dad.”
With calm deliberation she said, “You are an asshole.”
Chapter 22
Danny heard the doorbell from his bedroom. After a few moments, his mother called.
“David, we have company! Come on down.”
He opened the door and looked down the stairs. It was Scott. Danny’s stomach lurched.
“Hi, David,” Scott called, his voice cautious.
“David, Scott has something for us.”
Surely, on Christmas Day, it couldn’t be. His mind raced. He took each stair gingerly, as if it might suddenly slope and pitch him to the bottom.
“Come in and sit down,” Mom said, motioning toward the living room.
“Oh, no thanks.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I have to get back to my family.”
Danny swallowed and stayed at the base of the stairs.
Scott unzipped his parka and pulled three envelopes from the inside pocket.
“We took up a collection at the office. These are for you.” He thrust them awkwardly at Susan.
She looked at the names written on each one. “There’s one for each of us,” she announced. Julia came up to take hers, but didn’t open it right away. Mom held out Danny’s envelope. He shuffled forward and took it.
Julia opened hers first. Inside was a stiff piece of cardboard with red and green holly printed around the border. “It’s a gift certificate,” she said.
Lloyd’s Cycle
Gift Certificate for Julia Mayer
Two Hundred and Fifty Dollars
$250.00
Merry Christmas!
She looked at the certificate, then over at Scott.
“It’s…it’s for a bicycle,” he offered, stubbing his boot into the carpet. “I know how hard it is for kids to get around when the family doesn’t have a car and you want to visit friends and stuff.”
Danny pushed his thumb under the flap and slowly tore his open.
Lloyd’s Cycle
Gift Certificate for David Mayer
Two Hundred and Fifty Dollars
$250.00 Merry Christmas!
Scott smiled. “It won’t buy a fancy bike, but you’ll be able to get around.”
“Wow,” said Julia. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Danny mumbled.
Susan fumbled with hers. It unfolded into a full-sized sheet. Santa Claus flew his reindeer over a glittering Christmas tree.
Susan Mayer.
Five Hundred Dollar ($500.00) Gift Certificate
Murray’s Department Store.
She was speechless. “I – I don’t know how to thank you.”
Scott rubbed his hand along his cheek and turned to go. “We think of you often and hope this helps. Merry Christmas,” he said, and hastened out.
No one moved. Susan looked at Julia, then at Danny. She sat on the couch, holding the certificate in front of her as she read and reread it.
“Oh, my God,” she said, “There aren’t many people in those offices. They must have contributed…a hundred…or a hundred and fifty dollars each.”
She didn’t try to hide her tears.
Danny heard the sharp rap at the back door. It was Papa Joe. Buddy’s body gyrated against the old man, his tail threatening to beat Papa Joe’s legs out from under him.
“Buddy-boy! Hey, take it easy.” Papa Joe smiled at Danny. “Look here! Brought a little somethin’ for the pooch,” he said, offering a small, loosely wrapped package. “T’ain’t much, but I sure ’ppreciate havin’ your dog with me on my walks.”
Danny unwrapped a cherry-red cotton headscarf with a black border.
“Used to get them for my Ranger,” Papa Joe said. “Seemed to make him feel special, all dressed up.” He folded the scarf in a triangle and tied it loosely under the dog’s chin. His arthritic fingers struggled with the knot. The tip of the scarf lay jauntily across Buddy’s shoulder. The dog dashed back and forth between Danny and Papa Joe, his tail beating like a round of applause.
For as long as Danny could remember, they’d hung their stockings from hooks permanently screwed under the fireplace man
tel. This year, Mom had improvised and had propped them up against the wall behind the tree.
Traditionally, they’d opened the stocking gifts first. Everything was small enough to fit inside, but some of the contents were expensive: a compass, a fossilized shark’s tooth, or a Swiss Army knife with a dozen attachments. And always, a Christmas orange in the toe.
This year they opened the stockings after lunch. Everything was from the dollar store, even the stockings. Small pads of pink post-it notes shaped like hearts for Julia and yellow rectangles for Danny. Miniature chocolate bars left over from Hallowe’en. Julia got some costume jewelry, lavender-scented bath oil beads, and a deck of Winnipeg souvenir playing cards. He opened a pair of socks, another hacky-sack, and a mechanical pencil.
“Thanks, Mom,” Julia said after she’d unloaded her stocking. Danny mumbled something that could have been a thank you as he stuffed the items back into the stocking.
“Wait, there’s one more,” Mom said. “I didn’t want to put it out because I thought it might cause problems.” She went to the kitchen.
Buddy’s nose began to twitch. The dog’s stocking was larger than theirs and was crammed full. Dog biscuits, dog bones, squeaky toys, and a new brush. A length of rope for tug-of-war dangled over its top. The biscuits were unwrapped and irregular in shape. It was clear Mom had baked them herself.
“Here you go, Bud,” she said, tossing him a biscuit. He caught it in mid-air and settled down beside the couch to crunch his treat.
“No stocking for you, Mom?” Julia asked.
“Next year,” she replied.
Danny decided to walk Buddy. He found himself passing Nixxie’s house. Although the walk was cleared of snow, it seemed no one was at home. Only a few cars drove the streets. The snow crunched like icing sugar under his feet. Each footfall was like the ticking of a clock.
His mother had made an effort. Right now, she was cooking Christmas dinner, just as she had all his life.
Julia had made an effort. She’d crafted decorations and presents. She’d been patient when he deliberately overslept. She’d taken the time – a lot of time – to find and paint the rocks. She’d saved her allowance and bought Mom a gift to help her heal. Except when she’d told him off, she’d been polite and cheerful. She never let up on the spirit of Christmas.
The Second Trial Page 21