Yule Tidings

by Savannah Dawn

  She really needed to get over the divorce already and meet a nice older man, or woman, for that matter. Jason wasn’t picky. He just wanted her to be happy for a change. It would make life so much easier, for all of them, if she could be happy. Jason remembered what it was like growing up. His Mom had been great. She was happy and friendly. His friends all loved her. She was the coolest Mom ever. Oh how quickly things changed. Jason looked up to see Alex standing in the doorway, her face a mixture of pain and confusion.

  “Sweetheart, you’re supposed to be resting.” Jason said quickly, hurrying to her side and ushering her back down the hall to bed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Anne couldn’t believe how terribly Jason was treating her. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She slammed the kitchen cupboards closed as she made coffee and a bagel. She had to get ready for work. Today was the blood drive and there would be way too much for her to do; she couldn’t afford to be late. Anne climbed the stairs angrily. How dare he? her mind yelled. She climbed in the shower, fuming. She was so irritated she broke the showerhead when she pulled it out of the bracket, a little too roughly, to wash her hair. Water sprayed the entire bathroom, and Anne had to finish washing her hair in the sink just to get the conditioner out.

  Her clothes were soaked, and she was forced to find a different outfit for the day. When she went into her bedroom and slammed the closet door open she broke the knob off, and had to squeeze her fingers inside the hole to pull the slider out. Then she couldn’t find anything that fit correctly. She finally settled on a pair of tan dress slacks and a black sweater. It was a bit more casual than her normal wardrobe, but she couldn’t seem to find her other slacks. Clearly, it wasn’t going to be a good day for her.

  Anne went back downstairs and picked up the phone. She couldn’t just leave things as they were. It would be too much on her mind if she didn’t at least try to call him back. She pushed Jason’s number on the phone. She waited; impatiently listening while the phone rang. When it finally went to the machine, Anne was livid. Who did he think he was, not answering her calls?

  “Jason, I’m very disappointed in you. The things you said were cruel and untrue. I’m sorry you were upset by what I said at the restaurant, but I don’t see how that warrants your nastiness. I am your mother; I love you and I want what is best for you. I have to work today, but I’ll expect to hear from you when I get home.” Anne hung up the phone. Maybe that would help him come to his senses.

  Frost had come during the night, and the driveway was covered with a thin layer of ice. Anne drove slowly to work, noting several cars in the ditch. If people hadn’t been there helping, Anne would have felt compelled to stop, but everyone seemed to have assistance of some kind nearby, so she didn’t bother. She was already running late for work as it was. She still had cookies and snacks to set out before the drive started, not to mention juice boxes and a few other goodies to offer the donors before they were allowed to leave. She had to prepare the tables and put the lists out…she would be behind all day if she weren’t careful.

  Anne pulled into the office. She tried to ignore the thoughts running through her head, but she just couldn’t shake off the things Jason had said to her. He was just being cruel, and spiteful, but still, it was hard to bear. Children weren’t supposed to treat their parents so dreadfully. She’d always given him her love and affection. She didn’t deserve such harsh treatment. She’d only told him the truth. It was almost as bad as Rose when she was a teenager. Anne climbed out of her car and hurried inside, intent on catching up. Only Claire had arrived. The nurses and the other office girls would wait until nine a.m. to come in. Claire had already started putting the food and snacks out. Anne looked at her gratefully before grabbing the lists and organizing the rest of the supplies.

  The drive would start at ten. Anne and Claire dragged the donor chairs into the large, general purpose, meeting room. Everything happened in this room: staff meetings, blood drives, classes, exercises; it was one large, open space. Cots were even brought in during large disasters for people to sleep on. It was a chore to haul furniture in and out of the room, but it was better than putting it into a truck and driving across town to the high school gymnasium; they did that every other blood drive.

  Anne and Claire were just finishing up when the nurses and other support staff arrived. They could finish preparing their individual stations, so Anne and Claire sat at the reception table and started organizing the lists and schedule. Anne didn’t bother mentioning her fight with Jason to Claire. That woman had enough going on in her own life. Her daughter was graduating high school and heading off to college halfway across the country. Her son was starting high school this year, and her mother or father, Anne couldn’t remember which, was terminally ill. So Anne fumed in silence, looking over the lists in agitation. She somehow greeted the first few donors with a polite cordiality and consideration she felt incapable of, though the day seemed to linger on, slowly dwindling at her patience.

  Anne and Claire waited for the nurses to come ask for help, taking turns assisting the weakened donors to the snack tables where they could sit and eat until they weren’t quite so lightheaded. They signed in donors, registered the walk-ins, and refilled the juice and snack tables. Anne looked at the large windows in the front of the room. It was obviously a cold day, everyone was bundled up against the chilly, bitter, wind, but the sun shone brightly into the room. Anne had to resist the urge to close the blinds. She didn’t feel like sunshine.

  “Why don’t you go take your break?” Claire could tell something was bothering Anne. Franklin’s visit put a damper on the entire week, but things seemed even worse this morning. Claire didn’t want to ask Anne what was wrong, however. Anne could be a sweet person, and she’d do nearly anything to help at the office, but when it came to her home life, she was rough. Initially, Claire had felt sorry for her. Her kids abandoned her, her husband divorced her, and she was virtually alone in the world. But as time wore on, Claire began to wonder just how much of the situation was Anne’s fault. Her kids called the office looking for her occasionally and Claire knew they came to visit and check on her. They constantly sent cards and photos of the grandkids, because Anne had the pictures all over her desk, and she always had someplace to go for the holidays, consistently turning down Claire’s invitation to join her family.

  “Thanks,” Anne said appreciatively. She wanted to scream. Generally she enjoyed blood drives. It was relaxing and gave her a break from the typical office duties, but today it seemed tedious and frustrating. Anne left the meeting room and made her way to the kitchenette area in the office. A nice, hot, cup of coffee and her turkey sandwich might make her feel better. She poured the steaming black liquid into her mug and added cream and sugar before sitting down. Anne tried not to think of Jason, but she couldn’t get him out of her mind. He’d been so cruel and mean this morning. She didn’t know what hold Alexia had over him, but it was strong.

  Anne looked around the dimly lit room. The coffee maker hummed quietly along with the refrigerator. There wasn’t much room for the small round table in the corner, where Anne sat deliberating. The carpet was flattened from years of use, and stains covered its navy blue design. The wallpaper above the sink was peeling slightly, and the microwave was at least eight to ten years old. It was a dismal place, worn from use and abuse.

  What exactly was she supposed to do? she thought. Jason didn’t want to see Alexia for what she was; a manipulative, self-involved, money grubbing, whore. Anne didn’t know when she started crying, but tears streamed down her face. She wiped them away roughly. Now was not the time, she told herself sternly, but the tears didn’t stop or slow. “Anne, sorry to interrupt, but we’re getting backed up out here,” she heard Claire call from the front of the office. Anne forced herself to calm down and dab at her eyes. She had work to do, and crying in front of the donors would just not suit. She stopped for a moment in the bathroom to check her make-up before making her way back out to the blood drive.r />
  Chapter Sixteen

  Merle signed in with the receptionist shortly after One p.m. He was a little early for his appointment, but he had to make the drive to town to show Anderson the progress on the house for eleven, and didn’t have anything else to do for the day. The chimney was set, the electric lines were completed, and the drywall was up. The upstairs was painted, and he’d managed to get the guys to start on the in-laid flooring Friday. The place was really starting to look nice, and Anderson was quite pleased with the new developments. Merle was finally able to relax a little. The house could be done by Thanksgiving if necessary, but definitely well before Christmas.

  Merle didn’t see Anne, but it was a pretty busy place. There were at least fifty to sixty people milling about: eating, drinking, sitting around, and donating blood. When the nurse called his name, Merle followed her to the chair, sitting down carefully. He wasn’t sure what to do. He’d never donated blood. He wasn’t terribly nervous of needles, but he didn’t particularly like them either.

  Merle answered the questions that the nurse, Tammy, asked. She was a brunette, her hair in a ponytail at the back of her head. Her eyes were a deep brown, and she smiled at him pleasantly as she helped him to sit more comfortably in the chair. She explained the procedure to Merle as she washed his arm and located his vein before she unwrapped a large, metal needle. Merle sat patiently as the nurse inserted the needle, almost afraid to startle her. He ignored the pain as the point broke the skin, looking away when he saw his blood flow through the tube. Anne hadn’t mentioned that it was a rather painful process.

  Merle sat squeezing the stress reliever while his blood filled the bag. Tammy made small talk with Merle while they waited. She asked him what he did for a living, where he was from, and if he had any family. She was young and sweet and it made him think of his daughter. He found himself telling the woman about his wife, Martha, and how he was donating because it seemed like something she would have done. Tammy was sympathetic, and Merle was surprised by how relaxed he felt talking with her. Telling her about his wife made some of the emptiness inside fade away.

  Tammy could tell Merle was getting a little lightheaded from the loss of blood. His speech was slowing and he seemed to struggle to concentrate. It was hard to tell if he struggled because talking about his wife was difficult for him or if it was the blood loss. She smiled at him softly, reminding him to squeeze the stress reliever a few more times before the bag was full. She warned him before she pulled out the needle, noting his quick intake of breath as she slid it out of his skin.

  “There might be some bruising.” Tammy held gauze over the puncture for a few moments before covering it with a bandaide. She didn’t bother mentioning the irony of the Handy Manny bandaide to Merle. When he tried to stand up, he nearly fell back over, and Tammy steadied him as she called for Anne to come assist him to the snack tables and a place to sit. “You need to eat at least one cookie and a sandwich, drink two full cups of water or juice and sit for at least ten or fifteen minutes.” Tammy said sternly, seeing Anne come through the crowd. “Anne will sit with you for a little while, and then I’ll come check on you” she assured him before relinquishing him into Anne’s care.

  Merle put as little weight on Anne as possible as she helped him to a table. “Isn’t your ankle still injured?” he asked, once he was sitting down.

  “It’s a little sore, but not too bad. The ice helped.” Anne looked at Merle slightly surprised. “I didn’t think I had you convinced.”

  “You did.” Merle groaned as he tried to bend his arm. It was definitely a painful process. “Then again, you didn’t tell me how much it hurt.”

  “Well, we don’t like to spread that rumor.” Anne made Merle a plate of goodies. Merle looked at his lunch: a candy bar, two cookies, an apple juice, water, and a small ham sandwich. He would have preferred something with a little more protein, but he wouldn’t complain. Sugar was probably what his body needed. Anne sat next to him quietly, not really looking at anything. Merle knew she wasn’t a quiet person by nature. In his few brief encounters with her, he’d found that she was a pleasant, sociable woman, uncomfortable with silence. It was oddly unsettling sitting next to her while she remained so quiet and withdrawn.

  “So, how are you doing?” Merle asked, noting Anne’s red, puffy eyes. Maybe it had something to do with the man he’d seen leave the other day. He couldn’t imagine how something that happened on Wednesday would still be bothering her so much today, but there was no telling exactly what had happened. Maybe something else had happened with her ex-husband. Merle watched as Anne’s eyes welled with tears. He flinched as he tried to pat her back casually. He hated to see a woman cry. He never really knew what to do or how to react. His mother, as strong as she’d been, rarely cried, and Merle remembered the few times he’d come home to find her crying. It had been devastating to him. “Come on now, don’t cry. Won’t make a difference now, will it?” He cajoled, trying to get her to smile. “What’s got you so upset?” Merle wasn’t at all certain he really wanted to know why Anne was upset, but for some reason he couldn’t sit next to her and remain unconcerned.

  Anne was nearly overwhelmed. No one had asked her how she was doing in such a kind, gentle, sincere manner in a long time. She could see the concern in Merle’s face. “I had a fight with my son.” Anne said finally. Merle was a client, and technically she wasn’t supposed to talk to him about her personal life, but he’d been so sweet, and she really needed someone to talk to. The kids were always so judgmental. She knew they all blamed her for every crisis or fissure in the family.

  “Ah. What happened?” Merle asked, hoping to avoid the tears that looked inevitable. He had a headache, his stomach was growling, and here he was talking with Anne about a fight she had with her son, eating a fraction of what he’d normally have for lunch. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to listen to an emotional woman, especially one he hardly knew, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be rude or mean to her.

  Anne found herself telling Merle everything that had happened since Halloween: about Jason’s unexpected female companion and his insistence on sleeping in the same room as Alexia. She told him how disrespectful Jason had been, and the jibe Alexia made the next morning about not being able to finish, and how Jason tried to cover for her by saying she didn’t travel well. She described the fight in the restaurant in detail, gaining confidence by the look of disdain on Merle’s face. Her pain and confusion when Jason said he was marrying this girl she’d never even met, and her surprise and disbelief at the news of a baby. She told him of her accusation that the baby wasn’t even Jason’s and how Alexia tried to hurt her by bringing up her divorce. She finished with Jason’s phone call this morning, and how terrible he’d been to her. How he’d said Alexia was having complications because of Anne. She was relieved when she finished, looking at the stern set of Merle’s jaw. It seemed, finally, she had someone who would listen and understand her plight. He would be sympathetic to her problems.

  Merle stared at Anne stonily. He couldn’t believe the things she was telling him. Forget that he was a virtual stranger; her conduct was downright ghastly. No wonder she was alone and divorced. She was an awful person. He couldn’t believe she was able to justify her behavior so easily. Merle couldn’t find a bit of disdain for her son—he quite agreed with the boy. Any woman who would treat a pregnant girl with such blatant disregard for her welfare was a waste of space in Merle’s opinion. He couldn’t believe a mother of four would act so inappropriately. She told her story with something close to pride, and Merle found himself becoming irate with her. Here this woman sat, bitter and unyielding: she was perfectly healthy and had a large family, yet God had taken his sweet happy, Martha away.

  Anne looked at Merle expectantly. He had listened to her tell her story patiently, a look of mild alarm and disappointment on his face. Anne expected Merle to agree with her, because, of course, she was in the right. Jason’s treatment of her was uncalled for and she’d only been
telling him the truth about Alexia. When Merle finally spoke Anne looked at him as though he’d grown a second head. She was so surprised by the words that spouted from his mouth; she didn’t know what to say.

  “You selfish woman! How could a mother treat her son and his fiancé so terribly? Life is too short to behave so pettily. You should be grateful for every moment you have in this life to spend with your children and grandchildren—including the one you have so crudely discarded by your careless and insensitive behavior. No wonder you’re divorced and alone. There are people who live every moment for someone else, and yet here you are, expecting everyone to sway to you and strive to please you. How sad you are.” Merle was disgusted with her, and for some reason he felt saddened and disappointed. He’d actually thought she would be someone with whom he could enjoy a deep friendship.

  “Live for someone else? I was married twenty-two years; just to have my husband tell me he wanted a divorce!” Anne’s voice was raw with pain and humiliation.

  Merle shook his head in disgust. “It takes two, you know; to make it, and break it.” He stood, feeling a little wobbly, and left without a backward glance. Merle drove to subway and ordered a foot long roast beef sandwich. He hadn’t been able to eat any of the food Anne had offered him, so disturbed by her story, and he was woozy from donating blood. The nerve of that woman, Merle thought. He couldn’t believe she actually thought he’d agree with her. Sitting there, acting so self-righteous. He barely tasted his sandwich as he gulped it down in his agitation. His disappointment in her was profound. Damn him for thinking he’d be able to start over.