Once, We Were Stolen

by Courtney Symons

  She was out like a light.

  Violet was awoken by the pounding of Ben’s fists on her door.

  “Vi!” he shouted excitedly. “It’s Christmas!”

  Violet wiped the sleep from her eyes and looked over at her clock. Seven in the morning.

  “Ben,” she whined. “Really? Right now? The gifts aren’t going to run away or anything. Give me an hour.”

  “No, Vi, it’s Christmas!” he said, this time swinging the door open. He stood there with his hands on his hips as if to say, C’mon sis.

  “Fine,” she gave in, like all older sisters do when their little brothers wake them on Christmas morning. “Just do me a favour and go turn on the kettle so I can make some tea.”

  “No, Vi,” he said again, “I can’t go down until we all go down.”

  It was true, it was a Christmas tradition. Ben, Violet and their mother would huddle at the top of the stairs before all heading down together.

  “I don’t know,” Holly would say. “What if Santa didn’t come this year?”

  “He did, he did!” they would argue without budging from their faith. And sure enough, every year, Santa had come.

  Ben left Violet’s doorway, no doubt to rouse Jeremy so that they could all meet at the top of the stairs. Violet didn’t have the heart to tell him that the only gifts under the tree would be from her, and probably Jeremy. Maybe it was time the kid stopped believing in Santa Claus, anyway. She didn’t realize that the gifts from Santa weren’t the point.

  Violet dragged herself out of bed, put on some pants, a sweater, some slippers, and headed to the top of the staircase where Ben was already waiting. Jeremy stumbled out of his room, fists in his eyes, at about the same time Violet did.

  “Okay, ready?” Ben asked, anxiously.

  “Yes,” Violet and Jeremy said at the same time, in similarly scratchy voices but different keys. Violet was impressed he’d made it out of his bedroom so quickly.

  They descended the stairway together, all three pausing a moment to admire their tree. A light snow fell softly on the morning. The gifts were sparse and wrapped with varying levels of ability, but they looked just the way presents under a tree should, Violet thought. She bit her cheek for a moment, willing herself not to cry. It looked too much like Christmas at home.

  Ben launched himself off the staircase and down to the tree in an instant.

  “Can I deliver them?” Another job of Ben’s back home, to be the giver of the gifts. Neither Violet nor Jeremy fought him for the job, and Ben quickly delegated them to a seat so that he could begin.

  Five presents sat in front of Violet, five for Ben and, Violet noted curiously, two in front of Jeremy.

  Ben? she thought. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Ben giving Jeremy gifts. But it would have been awfully sad if only the two of them were opening while Jeremy looked on, she admitted.

  Ben asked if each gift should be opened one at a time, from oldest to youngest. Violet squirmed at the thought. She hadn’t handpicked her gifts; they weren’t things she’d been hiding for months and couldn’t wait for Ben to see. They were last minute afterthoughts that Jeremy had picked for her and she’d thrown some wrapping paper over. She told Ben that for the first time in his life, he was allowed to tear into his gifts at whatever pace he chose.

  “Cool!” he said, which was increasingly becoming his catchphrase.“Thanks, Vi!” he shouted when he got to his bug kit, mid-peppermint patty bite. Violet smiled when she opened her chocolate as well – he hadn’t forgotten. Her new purple sweater was lovely, and she had to give Jeremy credit for eyeballing just the right size. It was something she would actually wear, at least while she was still stuck in here.

  Jeremy sat looking down at the two gifts in his lap. He smiled, and lifted the first one gently. He undid the wrapping paper bit by bit, taking off one piece of tape at a time. When he revealed his treat, Violet saw him raise his head, looking for eyes, wanting to show it off. Look, I got one too!

  A strange lurch hit Violet’s stomach. It reminded her of when she’d been in the first grade and the teacher had asked the students to pair up, leaving one poor boy standing all by himself looking down at his hands. Lucas, that’s what his name had been. Violet remembered a strong urge to run up and hug him, but she had no idea why. It was the same feeling she had now.

  “Excuse me for a sec, I’ll be right back,” she said as she removed her gifts from her lap and headed upstairs to her bedroom.

  She reached under her bed and grabbed for the card she had made the night before. It was for Jeremy. Even as she had written it, she wasn’t sure if it would end up in his hands or the garbage. But she’d gone to the effort of making it, so shouldn’t he get to see it? It was Christmas, after all.

  Vaulting back down the stairs, she slipped the card onto Jeremy’s lap and sat back in her chair in one long, fluid movement. He was surprised, she could see it right away. He hadn’t expected anything from her, and to be honest, it was a surprise to Violet as well.

  The card didn’t contain a lot of fanfare. It was a big piece of wrapping paper, folded in two, with a rough sketch of a Christmas tree on the left half (she’d been trying to fill up space without having to write too many words), and the other side very simply said,

  Jeremy, I hope you have a very Merry Christmas. Thank you for letting us have one, even though we’re away from home. It means a lot. Violet.

  Nothing fancy. Jeremy looked down at it for much longer than it would have taken him to read. Violet wondered if she’d done something wrong. When he finally raised his head, his eyes were shiny with tears he was trying not to spill.

  “Thank you, Violet.” That’s it. A card so unsubstantial didn’t really warrant more than that, she supposed. But she could tell there were other things he wanted to say to her and wouldn’t or couldn’t. She merely nodded and turned her eyes back to her lap. All that was left to open was their gift from Jeremy. Violet felt uneasy. What if it was something she hated, would she have to pretend to like it? Shouldn’t she, for once in her life, be allowed to just say, This is not even close to something I would choose. What were you thinking?

  She unwrapped deliberately, like Jeremy had. She dreaded what was within. The first thing she saw was colour – bright, fiery red and deep, burnt orange on a large piece of cloth. She grabbed a corner and began to unfold, revealing a wall-hanging depicting a beautiful woman sitting cross-legged, fingers together in meditation. Violet’s mouth opened as she took it in.

  “That’s Irene,” Jeremy explained. “The Greek goddess of peace.”

  He shouldn’t have known that she would love it. She hadn’t disclosed enough. But here was this beautiful wall hanging that if she had passed in a market, she would have felt compelled to have. And here it was in front of her, chosen by Jeremy.

  “I love her,” she surprised herself by admitting out loud. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”

  “Good,” Jeremy said simply, smiling.

  She resisted the urge to say Namaste to him in thanks, steeple her fingers and rest her chin on them as she lowered her head. I bow to you. But bowing signified submissiveness, or supreme respect. Neither felt appropriate, and so her hands remained on the cloth instead.

  Just then, her eyes caught a glistening in the wrapping paper, and she looked down to discover a silver necklace that must have been swaddled in the cloth. She untangled the chain to discover three stars hanging from it at various lengths. One short, one medium, one long. She knew immediately it was because of their shooting star. It twisted her insides to know that now she could never forget she’d seen one, and that it had been with him.

  Violet preferred gold to silver. But somehow, the little necklace immediately found its way onto her body. She wrapped it around her neck.

  “How does it look?” she asked the boys in front of her.

  “It’s alright,” Ben said, disinterested and about to tear into his last gift.

  “It’s beautiful,” Jeremy said. Violet lo
oked at him them, one of the few moments when she truly did. She heard his voice catch. He really did think it looked beautiful on her, and Violet was surprised at the way that made her feel. Did he think she was beautiful? Or just that the necklace looked beautiful on her neck? She internally slapped herself for even wondering.

  Getting up to look in the mirror, she fingered the chain. It really did look beautiful, she soon discovered. The three stars ran right along her collarbone. Violet felt a little naked then, more vulnerable. She thought she’d remained removed, but there must have been moments when she’d let him in enough for him to siphon these details from her.

  “What’s this?” she heard Ben ask. He held up a set of keys.

  Dear god, Violet thought.

  “Go take a look in the backyard,” Jeremy said with a contented shrug.

  Ben flew to the window and looked out. “No way! Is that for me?” Violet joined her brother and saw what he was looking at. A mini Jeep. Violet had always wanted one as a kid. Not the sissy Barbie kind that told you to go to the mall, but one of those Jeeps that let you drive.

  “WOW!” Ben shouted and ran for the door. “Can I ride it right now? Even in the snow?”

  “All season tires!” Jeremy said. Violet was concerned with the lack of instruction manual, the fact that Ben had never driven a car before, and also that Ben was still in his pajamas. She decided she could let it all slide, except for one small thing.

  “Don’t forget your boots!” she shouted. He’d be fine without the rest, she was sure. Violet had no idea how much one of those things cost, but she could guess.

  “Jeremy,” she said when Ben had slammed the door behind him, “This was too much. You shouldn’t have spent so much money.”

  He misinterpreted and instantly started to explain. “I know, his did cost a bit more than yours, but I just figured… Well, I could go and pick you out another gift if you like?”

  “What? Jeremy, no! That’s not what I meant at all! I love my gifts. I think you were too generous with the both of us. Seriously. You didn’t need to do all of this.”

  Violet heard her mother’s words in the back of her mind. Never refuse a gift from a man.

  Jeremy did owe them an awful lot for what he had done, she supposed. It’s not as if she wanted to give the gifts back, either. So instead, she just held her new wall hanging against her newly decorated neck and said, “Well, thank you. Merry Christmas to us.”

  Ben had already figured out his first vehicle and was driving around the lawn in crazy figure eights, his hair flying wildly in the snowy wind, wearing the ugly pajamas that would soon be replaced by the new blue ones.

  The rest of that day was enjoyable for all. Violet and Jeremy took to the kitchen, cleaned the turkey, prepared the stuffing, got the vegetables ready, mashed the potatoes, and began to breathe in the slow release of the smell that meant Christmas was almost over, and a great feast was about to begin. The house would be redolent of turkey for days.

  They each went for seconds of everything, finding themselves laughing and talking freely. Jeremy had poured wine for himself and Violet, and had given Ben some sparkling juice that he was very happy with, especially since he got to drink it out of a wine glass – something he had never done before. Their mother had always been too worried he would break one.

  Wine kept finding its way into Violet’s glass as the night wore on. Bottles kept reappearing when the previous drained dry. Violet noticed her cheeks getting hotter, her steps becoming less assured, her words stumbling out of her mouth in ways that she was sure her brain hadn’t meant them to. Ben just looked at her funny and continued playing, but Jeremy laughed every time she bungled a sentence.

  “I’ll just clean up in the morning,” she had said, which had come out as something close to, “I’ll jus’ clin up n’ the morn.”

  Or, “I sh’d prolly stop wining s’much drink,” greeted with a burst of laughter from Jeremy and her own throat.

  “Oh god,” she said, “What an idiot!” Instead of putting down her glass, she clinked it against Jeremy’s. “Well, cheers, to us all being here together,” she found herself saying.

  Jeremy paused for a second. “Really?” he said.

  “Oh, shut up. Don’t ruin it. Just… cheers.”

  And he did. It was the best Christmas Jeremy ever had.

  22

  New Years passed without a countdown. Guilt had sunk in for Violet, and she decided it would be inappropriate to observe New Year’s passing. How could they ring in the new year without feeling as though they were celebrating being stolen? The private resolution she made was that she would get herself and Ben out of there. She hadn’t forgotten they were caged birds, and she worried they were learning to sing on the inside.

  Beautiful Irene hung on her bedroom wall, shining with colour and presence. It didn’t feel like home, but like a familiar friend’s.

  Storms arrived with the colder weather, which often found the three of them snowed in together, constantly boiling water for some hot drink. Violet was up to about four cups of tea a day. No sugar, just a drop of milk.

  Ben’s newest favourite thing to do was drive his Jeep around in the snow while holding a shovel out beside him as he tried to clear the way. Violet cringed at the sight of him driving with only one hand on the wheel while the other reached out wildly, wielding a heavy, metal weapon. No casualties had yet occurred, and she supposed this was when someone would feel justified in commenting, Boys will be boys.

  All of January passed this way. Slowly, leisurely, life trickled by for the three of them.

  Violet still put a tally on her bed every night, but had a feeling there were an increasing few she had missed. Nights she’d fallen asleep on the sofa watching old reruns of I Love Lucy, or when she stumbled into bed and the notches’ importance were diminished by the number of glasses of wine she had drank. Every week or two, Jeremy and Violet would find themselves sitting up late at night, much past Ben, drinking together.

  One night in early February, Jeremy decided to try something.

  “Do you know what day it is?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, early February? I need a calendar,” she added.

  “Oh, sure. Yeah, I guess. So you know we’re getting closer to the day I said I’d let you go?”

  Violet nodded, took a tiny sip of her wine. She kept her head down as she said, “But you’re not really going to let us go, are you?”

  “No,” he said simply, matter-of-factly, like it wasn’t as if he’d lied to her, like it should be no big deal that he wouldn’t be letting them go. Again. He prepared himself for her fire.

  “I know,” was her response in a voice much calmer than he expected.

  “You know?”

  “I know. I knew it was just a day you gave to hush me up again. I knew that when the day came, and I asked you if it was time for us to go, you’d just tell me that you were wrong, you hadn’t realized it but you’d need to keep us for who knows how much longer.”

  Jeremy’s mouth was open but he didn’t know what to say.

  “Jeremy…” she continued. “I’m not going to put up a fight this time. I’m not going to yell. But I think you need to explain yourself. We’ve been with you for half a year and I deserve some answers. Don’t you think?”

  “Yes.” He knew she was right. Gripping his glass tighter, he was glad to have wine in his hand.

  “Why?” It was the simplest question, one she had asked many times before.

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “I’ve told you bits and pieces about my life, but I haven’t told you the whole story.”

  Violet settled back in her chair. She was determined to hear him out. He was the type of person who said bin instead of been. She loved hearing him say new words and trying to catch the tiny twang inside of them.

  “My mom left me on a doorstep,” he said quietly.

  “What?”

  “Yeah. She did. It’s funny, I can barely picture her face anymore but I just
remember her long, red hair. It was so curly and I’d always get my hands caught it in. She hated that.”

  He readied himself to tell her a story that he’d only ever spoken aloud once, to Linda Sanford.

  “We went to go get ice cream one time, it was a really hot day,” he began.

  Little Jeremy chose Rocky Road, oblivious to its recipe. He’d pointed with his grubby finger and said, “Please!” So polite, wasn’t I?, he thought to himself now. He did everything he could to please her.

  She’d ordered strawberry, like her hair. He said this out loud, and she didn’t even smile. When he tried to grab onto her curly locks as evidence, she shoved, yes, he’s sure he remembers it correctly, shoved him out of the way. Hard enough for his startled little hands to let go of his Rocky Road. Tears welled up before he even knew he was upset.

  There’s something irresistible about a little boy who has just lost his ice cream, and the bejewelled teen behind the counter offered to scoop him a new one. But his mother, Gloria was her name, said no. “It’ll teach him to take better care of his things,” she justified. Even Jeremy was old enough to know she was wrong, but he didn’t know how to put it into verbs and nouns and was too afraid to try.

  Gloria grabbed his hand and took him outside. She sat him down on a bench as she enjoyed her strawberry ice cream and Jeremy looked on longingly.

  “Mommy... Some?” He asked in the childish way he had learned to ask for more.

  “No,” she said sharply. “You would still have your own if you weren’t so clumsy.” Where other mothers radiated compassion, adoration and patience for their children, Gloria flat lined.

  Jeremy remembered that her eyes were green, and that they were beautiful. Especially with her hair that looked like a campfire when caught in the wind. But looking into them, he never saw himself reflected back. There was no sparkle, nothing he could find that indicated he truly belonged to her.