“I’ll make boxty,” she decided aloud. “It’s not traditional, but I think they’ll like it.”
“I think that would be fine,” Jonathan called from living room. He was trying to stuff small scraps of newspaper into the spaces between the window and the frame. He unsuccessfully attempted several times to start a conversation with Ava the rest of the morning. Neither of them were looking forward to the dinner that would be embarrassing compared to previous feasts. He walked with her to Caleb’s apartment with a heavy heart.
Thanksgiving was a subdued evening that was more a gathering of physically tired and emotionally weary souls for dinner. Caleb and Arianna worked to make a well-prepared turkey despite the old gas oven’s tendency to fluctuate wildly in temperature. Claire and Aryl brought bread rolls, a vegetable mix of carrots and peas, and Ava added her plate of potato cakes. They all squeezed around the dining table that Arianna decorated with a lace tablecloth and dried flowers. Everyone now assembled, Caleb pulled out a bottle of wine from under his chair.
“Hey, you’ve been holding out on us!” Aryl cried in delight.
“No, not holding out. Planning ahead. I have one set aside for Christmas, too,” he said and smiled, pouring everyone a glass; the bottle was gone with one round.
Aryl held up his glass. “Never drank wine from a water glass before,” he chuckled. Caleb carved the turkey, and no one mentioned that Caleb skipped over the traditional Thanksgiving blessing.
Every year, for as long as the couples had been together, they had taken turns hosting the holidays and saying a blessing of simple, respectful words of no particular religious denomination that expressed gratitude for the food and the company. Easter was Aryl’s for hosting, Caleb had Thanksgiving, and Jonathan performed the duties on Christmas. In their old life.
Everyone ate quietly, occasionally complimented a contribution and only stayed together for an hour after dinner, listening to the radio by the fire. The other couples sat as close as possible to each other with intertwined hands and arms, but Ava sat several inches away from Jonathan, and the tension was obvious. Arianna felt like she was partly to blame for going to extremes the night before, Caleb felt it was his fault for not getting rid of the notes in time and Jonathan assumed it was his fault simply because he was breathing. Regardless of whom the fault belonged to, they were all depressed even further by such a somber holiday compared to previous years.
They said goodnight at seven; everybody going to bed early with work the next day as the excuse.
∞∞∞
Friday blurred into Saturday, and Ava finally started talking to Jonathan again with some normality as he was getting ready to meet Charles for the extra night’s work.
“Maura wants us to go to midnight mass with her,” she told him as he was shaving at the bathroom mirror. He stopped to throw a confused look her way.
“We’re not Catholic, Ava,” he said flatly.
“I know that and we don’t have to be. She wants to take us as guests.” She looked down and dropped her tone. “Besides, what else do we have to do?” Her words stabbed at him whether she meant them to or not.
“I figured we’d get together with Aryl and Caleb like we always do.”
“Well, we saw how festive Thanksgiving was, didn’t we,” she said sarcastically. “Besides, she already asked them and they said yes,” she continued.
“When was she here to ask them?” he asked, calling her bluff.
“It was during our girl’s night. She asked and Claire and Arianna said they would.”
“Ah, I see. So, Caleb and Aryl haven’t necessarily agreed?”
“Well, no, but I’m sure they will. Aryl will be up for it because it’s something new, and after Maura was able to convince Arianna that she wouldn’t spontaneously combust near holy water, she agreed. And we both know Caleb will do anything Arianna wants,” she said triumphantly.
“Why did you even ask me if I had no choice in the matter?” He quickly went from despondence to irritation.
“You do have a choice. All I said was that she had invited us. I didn’t get to the part where I tell you that I’m going and would like you to come, too. If you don’t want to, however, you don’t have to,” she said indifferently.
“What time is it at?”
“It’s midnight mass, Jonathan.”
“Oh, right, right. I guess if everyone else is going, I wouldn’t want you to have to go alone.” He made a mental note to start looking for a way out of it as soon as possible.
“We’re supposed to go to her house for drinks in the afternoon, then to the church for the children’s mass, back to her house for dinner, and then back to the church for midnight mass,” she informed. “Look on the bright side. It will make the day go faster,” she said, sensing his anxiety over the holiday.
He finished getting ready for the dreaded night before him.
“You look nice,” she said genuinely. He looked handsome and dignified like he used to when they would go out to the theater or to a dinner party.
“Thank you. I’m taking some change out of the money jar, so I can take the trolley. I’ll replace it with the money I make tonight.”
She straightened his coat collar and brushed some lint off the arms. She kissed him a quick peck and then stepped away. He grabbed her arm before she could turn.
“When are you going to forgive me?” he asked with begging eyes.
“I have.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“I have. It’s just that I keep wondering what else?” She crossed her arms and looked at the floor. “What else haven’t you told me?” she asked, exasperated.
“There’s nothing else,” he chose his words carefully as he took a step forward to close the gap between them and lifted her chin to look at him. “There is nothing else that has happened since the day we met that I have not shared with you. I swear.” She wanted to believe him, but something nagged. She pushed it aside and gave him another slightly more meaningful kiss goodbye.
“Be careful tonight.”
“I will. You keep the door locked and a chair under the handle till I get home. I don’t like being gone at night.”
“I’ll be fine,” she reassured as he walked out the door. He waited on the other side until he heard her turn the lock and then headed down the stairs.
∞∞∞
It was cold, and he walked briskly from the trolley. He had arrived uptown early and decided, against his better judgment, to walk down his old street three blocks away. Except for hair slightly grown out over the ears, he looked like he belonged here. There were many houses up for sale and some with auction notices listing dates and times that the houses and belongings would be up for bid. Only about half the houses on the street gave the soft glow of life within. The others stood sad and dark. He looked around, amazed at the transformation the neighborhood had taken in just one month. He stopped in front of his old house and had mixed feelings when he saw that it, too, was sad and dark. Part of him was glad, for it would hurt to see someone else through the windows living a life that used to be his, but he also hated to see the beautiful house showing signs of neglect. He went back and forth and finally decided that he was happier that it was empty.
He walked up the front steps and stood in front of the bay window. That was where he and Ava had put their Christmas tree for the last three years. He could make out the stately mantel that once held glowing candles and pine boughs of scented garland. They had hung quilted stockings from the mantel, which they stuffed for each other in secret. And even though they were grown adults, each insisted Santa Claus had visited. He pictured the sofa, angled toward the fireplace, where they had sat many times and discussed moving their stockings over, one day, to make room for smaller stockings of pink and blue. His memories played out in front of him like a picture show, and when he couldn’t watch anymore, he turned away as sad and dark as the house he loved.
∞∞∞
“Hello, sir.” Charles waited
outside the rear entrance and greeted Jonathan cheerfully, knowing that it would be an especially difficult night for him. He took him in the back door, showed him around the kitchen, and introduced him to the chefs. One needed no introduction as Sven turned away from the stove and smiled. Jonathan now felt a little better with two familiar faces to help him get through the evening. He hoped there would be no more, however, in the ballroom where almost two hundred guests chatted, laughed, and drank merrily. Charles handed Jonathan a large, silver tray piled with small sandwiches, crackers, and pate’. As he lifted it onto his shoulder, Jonathan inhaled deeply and his mouth watered. He missed exotic food with spice, having survived recently on a diet consisting mainly of bland carbohydrates.
“Follow me with this, sir. There are large banquet tables at the far end of the room. We will swap these for trays that are empty or low, and on our way back, we’ll pick up used glasses and plates. That’s mainly it unless there is a request from one of the guests,” Charles explained.
Jonathan nodded and followed him down a hall and through the servant’s door into the ballroom. There was a lavishly decorated Christmas tree in the middle of the room that glistened majestically and a quartet in the corner playing elegant music. He glanced around and recognized some of the faces. He put his head down and hoped none of them would recognize him. He managed to get to the table, swap out the tray, and get back to the kitchen unnoticed. He relaxed a bit while he waited for one of the chefs to fill a new tray. If he could manage to get back and forth quickly without being noticed, this would indeed be easy money.
The first half of the evening went just as he hoped. He even got to enjoy some of the foods he missed so much as the chefs’ assistants set aside items from returned trays for the kitchen staff to enjoy. Jonathan saw this and brought back a tray with plenty of crackers and pate’ on his next trip.
When Jonathan was returning near the end of the party, someone called his name. He glanced with his eyes but kept his face forward with the hope that the man was calling someone else.
“Jonathan!” A small, round man took several penguin-like steps to catch up with him. He was short and bald with kind eyes and a wide smile. “Hi, there, Jon. How are you? I haven’t seen you in quite a while. How’s Ava?” he asked glancing from his face to the tray he held and back.
“I’m fine. She’s fine. Thank you. I’d love to talk, but I have to get back to–” He looked toward the servant’s door. “work,” he finished.
“Well, it was good to see you again. You look great. Look all big and strong. Say hello to Ava for me, will you? You take care, Jon.”
Jonathan gave a faint smile back as he quickly walked toward the kitchen. He was relieved his former acquaintance hadn’t made a scene or been rude or insensitive. Actually, Jonathan realized he had been quite kind. He mentioned nothing but good things, compliments and well wishes. He hadn’t mentioned his humiliating position, and Jonathan was grateful.
On the next trip, however, several men recognized him. One nodded with a piteous expression. Another simply whispered to others the news that one of their own had fallen and was now reduced to hired help, which caused stares and a few snickers that made Jonathan burn under the collar. The last one was the worst. He confronted Jonathan in the middle of the ballroom.
“Hey, Garrett!” he yelled from several feet away. “Thanks for losing a boatload of money for me.” He staggered over to where Jonathan was working and leaned in close to him, whispering loudly with putrid breath. “Thanks to you, I don’t get to retire next year. And I had to sell a couple of my homes on the coast.” Jonathan looked at the belligerent drunk and recognized him well enough as one of his former clients. Before the crash, his firm had made a massive amount of money for the man. “Lucky for me,” the man continued, straightening his posture and returning his insults to full volume, “I didn’t hand everything over to you to destroy. I spread it all over and kept plenty of cash. I got hit. Oh, I got hit hard, but I’m not out. Not like you. You got what you deserved.”
Jonathan snapped up, took a step toward the man and just as he opened his mouth to speak, Charles was at his side.
“Sven needs your help in the kitchen,” he said calmly and politely as if nothing were going on. Jonathan hesitated and then turned away seething.
“Yeah, get me a drink while you’re in there, Garrett!” the drunk called out after him. It took every ounce of self-control Jonathan had to keep walking. Charles kept him in the kitchen for the last hour while he continued to work.
When the guests had all left and Jonathan, Charles, and Sven had finished the last of the cleanup in the kitchen, Charles held a few dollars out to Jonathan.
“I’d say you more than earned this, sir.” Jonathan took out his own wallet and tucked the bills inside.
“Jon, catch!” Sven called and tossed a bottle of vodka across the room to him. He dropped his wallet on the counter beside him and caught the bottle just in time.
“We have drink before you go,” Sven ordered. “Sit.” He, Charles and Jonathan sat at the table the chef used for food preparation, and Sven poured. “I had good time with your friends. They are funny,” Sven said smiling.
“They are. We all had a good time, too. But Sven, you were the funniest one of us all,” Jonathan insisted.
“I’m no funny. I’m Russian. Is impossible,” he teased in a stern voice.
“Say what you want, but I was there and you were hilarious. We’ll have to do it again sometime,” Jonathan offered.
“Yes, we do again.” Sven nodded and Jonathan turned his attention to Charles.
“Charles, you’re always so quiet. Why is that?” Jonathan remembered that even in the middle of the men’s night hoopla that he had been the quietest one.
“Mainly habit, sir,” he replied. “But I also enjoy watching people.”
“Watching people?” Jonathan asked curiously.
“Yes. I like watching people; how they interact, their body language and facial expressions, and in some cases, their strangeness. It’s most amusing,” Charles said and smiled.
“Amusing, huh? Maybe I’ll try it sometime. I’m getting real tired of fire-watching. It’d be a nice change of scenery.”
“Well, I also learn a great deal about people that way, sir,” Charles added.
“Really? How’s that?” Jonathan asked before finishing off his drink with a large gulp.
“Just by paying attention. That impolite man in the ballroom, for example. I could tell what he was preparing to do before he had fully crossed the room.”
“Thanks, by the way. I’d probably have laid that guy out and gotten thrown in jail,” he said.
“I can tell other things, too, though, not just the bad.” Jonathan stared at Charles, waiting. “Well, how much you care for Mrs. Garrett, for example. In both your old and new life, anyone with eyes could see that you love her more than your own soul. I remember the ones before her and not one of them consumed you the way she does.”
“Maybe you could drop by and tell her that sometime? She’s not very happy with me right now,” he said, staring at his empty glass.
“And the other night, for instance,” Charles continued. “I have been aware that Mr. Jenkins and Mr. Sullivan are your friends through my long service to you. But I was able to see the way you interacted with each other on a different level that night. You finished each other’s sentences, so in tune with each other, you can communicate without words. I got the distinct feeling that I wasn’t with a group of friends, but brothers. The three of you could not be more different, in personality and attitude, but the three of you complement each other’s strengths and give where the next man might be weak. It was wonderful to watch.”
Jonathan sat quietly, having never consciously considered the way the three were around each other. But it was true, if he were being honest. Since they were young, they had been like brothers. Although he still carried the guilt of their losses, he was selfishly grateful that they were in the tr
enches with him. He stood up and reached for his coat.
“I’d better get home. Thank you, Charles, for everything.”
“You’re most welcome, sir.” Charles nodded.
“Night, Sven. Don’t be a stranger,” he called as he closed the back door behind him.
∞∞∞
The frigid northern wind made Jonathan turn up the collar of his coat and keep his head down as he walked. Turning the corner onto his street, he didn’t notice the man leaning against the lamppost, waiting patiently. Just as he was about to pass him, the large, dark-haired man who towered over his own six feet stepped directly into Jonathan’s path.
He stopped abruptly. “Excuse me,” Jonathan said and took a step to the side. The man sidestepped with him, once again blocking his attempt to pass. Jonathan realized then that this was a mugging and reached back for his wallet to surrender but felt an empty pocket. Adrenaline rushed as he tried to think of what he could barter to get away from the mugger with his life.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” he told the big man. A voice carried from the alley to Jonathan’s right.
“This the guy?” A smaller man emerged from the shadows of the alley, pulling on leather, fingerless gloves.
“Yeah. That’s him,” another voice laughed from behind Jonathan, grinning at his payday. Dread and fear balled up in Jonathan’s stomach as he realized this was much more than a simple mugging. He might have had a chance with only one, even the big one, with his recently added bulk. But not three. He glanced frantically for an open spot as they closed in around him. His only chance of escape was between two parked cars to his left; he knew he was close to home. The big one in front of him looked over at the one emerging from the alley, and Jonathan took his chance. He turned and sprinted three steps into the street only to come inches from death by a speeding delivery truck.
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