by JR Wirth
The move you ask? Yes the move. Now that I think about it, the move may have been the most important change of all. We moved in with my grandpa. At first it was a bit of an adjustment, but by the time Halloween came around, we’d all found our groove and life went on. Halloween went off with the usual cool costumes, candy, and fanfare. We then got through five birthdays, including Grandpa’s, Arhi’s and Isaiah’s, and now it’s Christmas Eve. For some reason the celebration is a day earlier than all the previous Christmas celebrations, but I think I know why. I’ll get to that.
Grandpa always made a turkey for our family’s Christmas celebration. It was something we all enjoyed, and one thing for sure—Grandpa’s turkey was always the best. I don’t really know why, but his turkey and stuffing, as well as his mac & cheese, seemed better than anyone else’s. Even the sodas, for some reason, tasted better at Grandpa’s.
During the twelve months or so, following the Christmas caper, where we transported through time, space, and dimension, to the town under Grandpa’s Christmas tree, other changes happened as well. Harper developed a cute little vocabulary and seemed to be a happy child—most of the time. Perhaps she still knew something the rest of us didn’t, and after hearing her washer and dryer conversation, I knew something was up.
My younger brother, Hayden also changed. While at Grandpa’s, Hayden seemed to come out of his shell a bit. He was much less selfish, and seemed to be more in-tune to other people’s feelings. He was particularly accommodating to Harper; and wherever Hayden went, Harper was sure to follow, often mimicking him in play and speech.
Our cousins also made significant changes. Isaiah became a full-fledged teenager and high school star. At least he was a star to me and the others, since we all looked up to him. After all he was the leader of our brave, Christmas brigade. He seemed to make pretty good grades and, for the most part, stayed out of trouble. Isaiah also became quite the techie and often perused the Internet for fun facts and the latest videos. He continued to be stylish as well. He had a hoodie to match every outfit, and a baseball cap to match every hoodie.
Isaiah’s little brother, Bubba, may have changed the most. He seemed to get taller every time I saw him, and I saw him at school, a lot. He was very sociable and somewhat of a joker, at least with me. And then there was Arhi. She was the kindergarten princess, and had become quite the fashionista herself.
Probably more than anyone else I knew—maybe even more than Grandpa—Arhi loved school. In fact she was always ready to do homework—even when there was none to do. In reality, Arhi had blossomed into a fine young lady, often presenting much older than her stated age.
The Christmas festivities generally started around two o’clock. It usually included presents, football and/or basketball, and listening to Christmas music. This year it also included putting together and decorating the Christmas tree. The Christmas tree is usually done on or before Thanksgiving, but due to Grandpa’s hip operation it got delayed. And since we cousins wanted to do all the decorating, which would begin our annual tradition, we wanted to start as early as possible.
It was about 11:00 a.m. when Grandpa took a break from the kitchen. He oversaw Titi (Aunt Desiree) and Karlos, while they put together the Christmas tree. Grandpa then made a snow-covered-ground out of cardboard. The converted box was covered with a white fluffy, felt-like material glued to it. It was supposed to resemble a winter wonderland; and given the snow-covered playground we’d experienced the year before—mission accomplished. Hard to believe that cardboard and felt actually turned into real snow, but it did! He then placed it in its usual position in the corner of the living room, snuggled between the eastern wall and fireplace. Finally, Grandpa tested it to assure it was solid enough to hold the Christmas train and tracks.
Next, Grandpa would put the train together. We all knew to keep our hands off the train until it was fully constructed and completely operational. So the other kids and I passed the time playing in my new bedroom. Before we moved in, in order to make space enough for all of us, Grandpa converted the garage room into my bedroom, complete with a large screen TV, although a much older and heavier model than what I was accustomed to. I also had my own computer, and a brand new futon that I stained within days—oops! Sorry Grandpa. The room was a little warm initially, but by late September, Grandpa figured out how to cool it off by using the heavy drapes to block the direct sunlight. Though I’ve yet to find one, I spent a lot of time in my new room searching for portals to the town beneath the Christmas tree. I thought if I could find a crack in the walls, or in the closet, or somewhere else perhaps, I could find the path by which we were transported to the land beneath the Christmas tree.
While we kids waited to decorate, we entertained ourselves with various electronics and ridiculous, “would you rather?” questions. The silly entertainment time allowed Isaiah and I to calm a bit; at least that’s what we told each other. In reality, I was a bit on edge, trying to maintain a cool head.
We also took turns peeking out at Grandpa, taking note of where he was at in the train-assembly process. As soon as he was done we planned to rush the front room and begin decorating.
When Grandpa was done with his portion, Aunt Jessica beat us to the punch, yelling, “It’s time to come and decorate the tree, everyone!”
“Oh no!” I screeched, which came out more like a yelp. I turned to Isaiah, quickly waving, and then pointing my index finger. “Isaiah, quick, you need to stop your mom! She can’t touch the tree. Only we can do it.”
Isaiah looked up from his phone and, with that familiar scratch of his chin, calmly asked, “What should we do?”
“Anything,” I replied with a rush of panic in my voice. “Whatever you do, do it quick. We don’t have much time.”
Appearing as calm as a shell covered oyster, in his usual manner, Isaiah slowly sauntered to the living room area. We all followed him, showing our support for his actions. We were a united front of decorating-kids, you might say. Bubba and I stood directly behind Isaiah, and the others behind us, giggling.
“Mom,” Isaiah started with caution in his voice. He then paused and looked at his phone then back at Aunt Jessica. “Um, we, I…” he stammered and paused again. He looked at us kids and smiled.
We smiled back and gave him a thumbs up.
Isaiah seemed to regain his confidence, renewing his place as the leader of the kiddie Christmas crew. He put his balled-up fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “Well,” he continued. “We want to do it ourselves.” Isaiah chuckled. “The tree I mean; we want to put the ornaments on the tree together; just us kids.”
We all knew that Aunt Jessica was a nut when it came to anything Christmas. Every year, she would have family adventures with her stuffed elves. Two years ago she spent so much time playing, moving, and then posting about the elves that she almost forgot to get Uncle Steve a present.
“Okay,” Aunt Jessica said. She looked at Titi and Karlos, and then at my mom. “Anyone mind?”
They shrugged and shook their heads.
Expecting to get resistance to Isaiah’s idea, we were all amazed to find that Aunt Jessica and the other adults seemed to take it well. We all smiled at each other.
Then Bubba shouted, “Let’s do this thing already!”
But, then came the catch…
“Why don’t I help,” Aunt Jessica insisted. “I can find the decorations in the boxes, and then I’ll hand them out to you guys while I take pictures.”
We all knew what that meant—a never-ending stream of posts to Facebook and Instagram. But under the circumstances, having her occupied with picture taking, and post making, kept her out of our hair—for the most part at least.
Chapter Three
We were ready to start the reconstruction of the town beneath the Christmas tree when there was a knock on the door.
“I’ll get it,” I said
and skipped to the front door. When I got there, I heard a familiar, faint scream from outside.
“Knock-knock, I’m here.”
Immediately, I knew who it was. “Jacob’s here!” I yelled to the others; and cheers were heard.
Oh did I mention... Grandpa got a girlfriend? Her name is Sophie Hernandez. Remember when I said that I’d get back to the change in the usual Christmas routine? Well, I think it was because Sophie wanted a Christmas Eve celebration. Nevertheless, Jacob’s her son and a favorite of mine. He’s my age and he’s very cool, and funny, and never-ever seemed to be in a bad mood. And when Sophie came for the weekend, Jacob often came along.
It was always a party when Jacob came over. Even when he was going to be picked up by his father on Saturday mornings, we’d have slumber parties and stay up as late as we could. We’d search the Internet for odd and unusual stories, and make prank calls on his cell phone, even though we were told that we could not make prank calls.
“They know who you are,” our parents would always say. “And they’ll come after us—and then you’ll have to go to foster care; or some ranch in Utah.”
The idea of going to a ranch in Utah seemed very scary to me, so it kind of kept me in check. It never scared Jacob though; he seemed to know more about the subject than I. So, the calls kept coming, or, should I say, kept going.
Jacob had long-brown hair that fell in his face, and when we listened to music he’d jump around and then mimic Joey Ramone, who was his favorite. He had to be, since the Ramones were his mother’s favorite. And they listened to the Ramones—a lot.
I opened the door, smiled, and held out my arms for our usual embrace, and then the bizarre handshake that I never did master, or remember.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I blurted with excited eyes. “I want you to watch us kids put the Christmas tree together. Then we’ll tell you all about it. And our weirdly-bizarre morning. ”
“You’ll tell me about what?”
“We’ll tell you about the Christmas tree, P-face; why we have to put it together ourselves. And our weirdly-bizarre morning. Maybe creepy is a better word for it, ya P-face.”
“You’re a P-face, P-face,” he said in return and pushed me. He smiled and we hugged again.
P-face seems to be our favorite word these days, I thought, as I scratched my head. Even Hayden and Harper are saying it. It’s probably our fault, but what the heck?
I’m not really sure how the phrase, P-face, started, but I’m pretty sure it had something to do with our pushing slices of pizza pie into each other’s faces.
After our usual, extended greeting, I walked past Jacob and looked down the walkway, toward the street. Expecting to see Sophie coming up the walkway arms full of food and presents, I was surprised when I saw nothing. With a half-turn, I said, “What the heck! I don’t see your mom.”
Still gazing at the street, I waited for an answer. When none came, I turned to face Jacob and asked, “Where’s your mom?”
Jacob smiled and shrugged. “She had to go home,” he said and waved me into the house.
I followed Jacob into the house and then the kitchen, where Grandpa had resumed his day-long, food preparing adventure, an annual tradition we all looked forward to.
Grandpa watched us approach. He looked at me and pointed at Jacob with his thumb. In his usually inviting, but always sarcastic, manner, Grandpa asked, “Who’s the kid?” He winked. “And where’d he come from?”
As if he was going to whisper in my ear, Jacob covered his mouth and leaned toward me. He then shouted, “Tell the stiff, I’m Joey Ramone in the flesh!” Jacob was never intimidated by Grandpa’s bantering, not like Hayden was. When we first moved in, Hayden would often get upset and tell our mom to, “Go yell at Grandpa, because he’s saying he doesn’t know us.”
With a look of dissent, Grandpa shook his head. “Joey Ra-what? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name. In fact, I pretty sure I’ve never heard of you before.”
“Johnnie—Dee Dee—Tommy, heard of any of them?”
Grandpa smirked. “Nope, can’t say I have.”
Jacob smiled. “That’s what I thought,” he said, with a smug, victorious look about him.
Grandpa threw the hand towel, featuring elves and wrapped presents, on to his waiting shoulder. “Nicely played,” Grandpa said. “Nicely played.” He then glanced into the kitchen. “Okay, here’s another question. What have you done with that woman I see coming around here from time to time?”
“What woman?” Jacob responded with a smirk. “I don’t know any women. It must be the old age, Grandpa.”
Grandpa pointed his wagging index finger. “Watch it there, young man, or no turkey for you.”
“Oh no,” Jacob cried, with a seemingly defeated tone. “No turkey…what will I ever eat?”
“He’s kidding,” I quickly added, not wanting to upset Grandpa. “He wants turkey, he told me.”
Jacob smirked back at me and whispered, “Watch this.” He then faced Grandpa. Jacob slowly walked up to him and it seemed like he wanted to cry. Then, in a shaky voice, Jacob shouted, “You know I’m vegetarian, don’t you?”
With darting eyes that appeared to penetrate, rather than observe, seemingly deep in thought, Grandpa stared down Jacob. He then shook his head and smiled. “You got me there bud—two-for-two. You might have had me completely, until I remembered you macking-down that double-double last week.”
“Oh yeah, forgot about that one,” Jacob said. He stepped back, shaking his head. “Darn it.”
I poked him in the ribs. “And you ate all my fries too!”
We all shared a chuckle.
“Actually,” Jacob continued. “About that woman…”
“Wait,” Grandpa interrupted. He hesitated and gave another chuckle. “She forgot the pie, didn’t she?” he barked. “That’s just like her. And I bet she forgot her phone as well. That’s why she’s not answering my calls.” Grandpa scooted back into the kitchen. With his hand on the stove’s knobs, he looked under the two pots, adjusting the amount of rising fire. He then opened the oven door to check the progress of the turkey. While his head was buried in the oven’s heat, he yelled, “Did I ever tell you guys about the time she forgot our wallets on the top of the car? It nearly ruined our mountain, vacation trip.”
“Only a thousand times,” I whispered for Jacob’s ears only. I lowered my head and bit my lip, trying not to laugh and embarrass Grandpa.
“Why no, I don’t think I’ve heard that one,” Jacob shouted. I’m sure he was baiting Grandpa, because he nudged me with his elbow again.
When I looked back, his lips were trembling like when someone is trying to stop their laughter—or a sneeze.
Suddenly, Aunt Jessica yelled out, “Hailey, get in here! Everyone is waiting for you to decorate the tree.”
“Saved by the Aunt Jessica bell,” I whispered. I grabbed Jacob by the hand. “Come on, it’s Christmas tree time.”
Jacob gently touched my hand and said, “You go, I’ll be there in a few minutes. I want to talk to your grandpa real quick.”
Making my way to the Christmas tree, I stopped at the entrance to the kitchen. It was between the formal dining room—if one can call a ten-foot cutout a formal dining room—and the nook, next to the kitchen. I peeked back and pulled my ears forward to listen carefully. Some might call my antics nosy, but I call them inquisitive. And I dare anyone to disagree with me.
When Grandpa was done looking and picking at the turkey, he rose and glanced at Jacob. “You never did tell me where your mom is.”
Jacob shrugged. “I’m pretty sure she went home.”
“Pretty sure?”
Jacob shrugged again, then turned toward me, like he knew I was there the whole time. He smiled in my direction. “Yep, I’m pretty sure.”
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I felt my flesh heat-up due to the embarrassment of getting caught snooping. No, not being nosy, just investigative. Nevertheless, I turned and joined the others at the tree-decorating ceremony.
Chapter Four
Aunt Jessica and Karlos handed out red, yellow, green and silver Christmas ornaments, while Titi untangled the town that would go beneath the Christmas tree. It was previously her job to place and light the town; and then Titi and Karlos would oversee the placement of the ornaments in their correct positions—not anymore.
Isaiah kept everybody from fighting—too much—over the bulbs and their placement. I stayed away however. In my mind they weren’t as important as the placement of baby Jesus, the manger, and the town’s nineteenth-century, Victorian-type people. Plus, I was waiting for the placement of the bridge-to-nowhere. Since it was the entrance to the town beneath the Christmas tree, it was crucial that it got placed in exactly the right position.
Since it was clear Isaiah had the ordeal under control, for the most part, I knew I could sneak away. So, while they bargained amongst themselves about the placement of the decorations, I crept back to the kitchen. I stopped at the entrance just before the nook. In order to continue my investigation, I, again, peeked into the kitchen. Grandpa and Jacob were facing each other, leaning against opposite sides of the kitchen counter. But I could clearly see their faces.