by Susan Rohrer
Merry sat, motionless. She thought about the times she’d listened to that nagging voice. She pondered how empty she’d felt whenever she’d given into it. Finally, she shook her head no. She took a deep breath and put her pen to the paper.
“I could help you with that loan app,” Arthur offered. “Best reference you’d find. That don’t change, just ‘cause you don’t go for what I got.”
Merry looked up with sheepish affection. “You’re like a big brother, Arthur.”
“Big as in too old? That it?”
Arthur always nailed it on the head. As much as Merry attempted to save his pride, he always saw through it. “Kinda hoping to stay in my decade,” she admitted. “Still love you, though.”
Arthur shrugged, and then flipped another chair over onto a table. “I’ll co-sign that if you need it.”
Merry felt awful. How could Arthur be so completely great to her even though she was rejecting him? “I couldn’t—”
Arthur stopped. “So, you love me like a brother. Whaddaya think brothers do?”
♥ ♥ ♥
Daniel entered his high-toned kitchen, stopping a moment to take in the aroma of barbequed chicken. There was his mother, Joan—still fit at sixty—husking fresh corn on the cob. His fashion-forward fifteen year-old daughter, Tara, was in the process of making a salad, and her sardonic twin sister, Hayden, pecked insistently on a laptop. It was the new normal they’d found as a family since what they rarely talked about.
“You’re home early,” Joan slyly observed. “You must be terribly interested in this girl.”
“She’s a woman, Mother,” Daniel replied.
Joan brushed the correction off. “I’m as liberated as the next one, but honestly, Dear. What woman doesn’t appreciate the implication of youth?”
“I don’t,” Tara complained. “Not when I can’t car date.”
Joan gave her granddaughter a consoling squeeze. “Trust me. You’ll be older soon enough. Enjoy your youth for the two seconds it lasts.”
“And by all means,” Hayden goaded, “rub it in as often as possible that you have a boyfriend who wants to take you on a car date.”
Tara rolled her eyes, completely unamused.
Daniel scanned the faces of his girls. “I hope I can count on you to remember your manners tonight. You, too, Mother.”
Hayden simultaneously slumped and groaned. “Tell me we don’t have to like her.”
Daniel tried his best to be patient. He knew that their mother would be a hard act to follow by anyone’s standards, even his own. “You could be open,” he suggested. “I know she’ll never be your mom, but...I like her.”
Suddenly, Tara showed interest. “You mean you like her, like her?”
Daniel wasn’t one to blush, but he did take a second to compose himself. “Yes. For the record, I like her, like her. Run upstairs and change for dinner, will you?”
Already stylishly garbed, Tara flashed a playfully indignant glare. “Excuse me, Dad, but...please.”
With a nod, Daniel acknowledged Tara’s very suitable attire in contrast to her sister, Hayden’s. Hayden shook her head and rose compliantly.
“Silly me. I thought I’d just wow her with my witty repartee.”
“Which is always appreciated,” Daniel added.
“Yeah, in Geekville—” Hayden began, just as her nine year-old brother, Ollie, burst into the room.
Jubilantly filthy, Ollie ran straight to his father. “Dad, can I start a worm farm?”
“—population: two,” Hayden concluded as she disappeared up the kitchen stairs.
Daniel turned to his son. Ollie was always popping with ideas, a new one it seemed, every day. “I suppose that’s negotiable,” Daniel started. “But right now, how about you hit the shower? I have a date coming.”
Clearly, Ollie was unimpressed. “More girls?” he moaned. “We’re already surrounded.”
“Just one,” Daniel clarified, leading his son to the kitchen stairs.
Visibly engaged at the prospect, Joan probed. “Are you saying this thing is exclusive?”
Daniel turned back with a congenial sigh. “Try to contain yourself, Mother.”
two
Far across town—quite literally on the other side of the tracks in her single apartment—Merry strung lights around a tabletop Christmas tree. It didn’t matter to her that she was the only one who would ever see this tribute to the season. She was used to spending the holidays solo, except for her cat.
Rudy watched, batting a paw at the dangling light string. Merry swayed side to side as she worked out a tangle, while Christmas music scratched on her radio. There was something about trimming a tree and listening to carols that buoyed Merry’s spirit. It kept her hope astir that life wouldn’t always be this way. She wouldn’t always be working so hard, struggling just to barely make ends meet. She wouldn’t always have to accept Kiki’s hard-earned tips to keep Mr. Grabinski off her back about the rent. She wouldn’t always be alone.
“What do you say, Rudy old boy? Look good to you? Maybe a little higher here.” Merry picked Rudy up and stood back with him to admire her work. It wasn’t anything fancy. The ornaments weren’t store bought. They were pieced together with scraps of felt, loose buttons, shells, and colored glass beads, small treasures gathered by a girl who knew the true meaning of the Yuletide season, one who was quite sure that anything made with love was worth much more than all the store-bought Christmases in the world.
“Now, we’re set. Come here, baby. Okay, moment of truth.” Merry stepped over and, with a celebratory flourish, she flipped the light switch. Disappointingly, only about half of the bulbs lit. One sparked a few times before the whole string started to flicker, and then went completely dark.
“Perfect,” Merry sighed.
♥ ♥ ♥
The clinking of lavish dinnerware did nothing but accentuate gaping pauses in the Bell dining room. No matter how much Catherine tried to tell herself that she wasn’t responsible for carrying the conversational ball, she couldn’t help feeling that she should. She smiled lightly at Tara. “That’s a pretty ensemble you’re wearing, Tara. You have an eye.”
Tara readily responded. “I’m thinking of going into fashion.”
Catherine caught Daniel’s reassuring glance. “Really?” she replied. “I have a friend who’s a buyer. Very chic, high end. Could mean contacts.”
“I already wear lenses, but thanks,” Tara replied cluelessly.
Daniel was quick to intervene. “I think Catherine might have meant the other kind of contacts. People in the fashion business.”
Tara darkened sheepishly. “Oh.”
Again, silence reigned. Catherine counted the seconds that passed. It seemed an eternity. Where were the witticisms that usually came so easily? She searched her mind for something to say, anything to ease the awkwardness.
Finally, Daniel piped up. “Hayden is quite the computer aficionado, you know.”
Hayden grimaced. “Yeah, I’m a real techno marvel.”
“Designed and built her own website,” Daniel continued. “Maybe she’ll show you.”
Hayden was expressionless. “Yeah, I can help you with your Facebook page.”
As collected as Catherine was among adults, she felt herself faltering. “Yes, well... I’m afraid I don’t actually—” She caught herself, finally getting Hayden’s cynical drift. “You were being facetious, weren’t you?”
“Attempting it,” Hayden droned.
Ollie twirled spaghetti on his fork. “I’ll show you my worm farm. If Dad lets me have one.”
Grateful for the interaction, Catherine turned to the boy. “Oh, thank you. Is that what you want for Christmas?”
It seemed an innocent enough question to Catherine. In fact, she reassured herself it was. But Catherine quickly realized that somehow she’d managed to step in it once again. But how? All she knew was that, as soon as she’d mentioned the holiday, uncomfortable glances had darted amongst the family. Sh
e saw Joan shake a discreet head at her, warding her off the subject.
Catherine flushed with embarrassment. She’d never tried so hard to fit in or found herself failing so miserably. “I’m sorry. I seem to keep saying the wrong thing,” she said.
“We don’t ever have Christmas,” Ollie blurted.
“Not anymore,” Tara muttered.
Even Hayden chimed in. “Not since what we never talk about. More to the point, who we never talk about.”
Joan tried to intervene. “Honey, maybe your father would rather—”
Daniel respectfully silenced his mother. “Actually,” he began. “I... You know, I’ve been thinking about it for a while, now. Since last year, and it seems to me like it’s about time we brought Christmas back again. That is, if that’s okay with everybody.”
Ollie lit up immediately at his father’s suggestion. “With presents and everything?”
Catherine breathed a sigh of relief.
“All the trimmings. And don’t worry, Mother,” Daniel assured. “Lord knows, you do enough already. I’ll take care of it. It’ll be good. For all of us.” Then taking her hand in his, he added, “Catherine, too.”
Abruptly, Hayden got up from the table. “Imagine my joy.”
Joan reached for Hayden as she skulked by toward the stairs. “Hayden—”
Daniel quietly turned to Catherine. “You okay if I...?”
Catherine promptly acquiesced. “Of course. Please.”
Quickly, Daniel followed Hayden up the stairs.
No one said anything at the table. They just picked at their dinners, the silence more conspicuous than ever.
Catherine resolved not to take the floor again. She blotted her lips, then picked up her fork and began to eat, if for no other reasons than to fill the aching void. Within the privacy of her thoughts, Catherine did what she could to bolster her flagging confidence. She told herself that, in time, the children would get used to the idea of a new woman in their father’s life. Surely, they’d come to know and love her, just as Daniel had.
♥ ♥ ♥
Across town, Merry paced about, on the phone in her apartment, a maxed-out credit card in hand. Holiday muzak lilted through the line. Rudy brushed against her leg, hinting that he wanted attention. She gathered him up into her arms and sat down on her bed. She scratched between his ears, just the way he liked it.
How long have I been on hold?
Merry checked her watch. Seven full minutes had passed since she’d been asked if she could wait just a moment and the never-ending loop of muzak had begun. What is the definition of a moment? She wondered if she’d been forgotten, if her call was nothing more than a blinking light on some abandoned who-knows-where switchboard that no one would ever notice again.
Merry was used to being cast aside. Her mind drifted back to her childhood, to the orphanages and foster homes of her youth, to the time or two when it had seemed that a couple might actually adopt her. How was it that so many years had passed and yet it seemed like yesterday?
The thought of how she’d once been chosen for a home visit floated into her head. She remembered it all, how she’d gotten up before the birds to scrub herself clean. She’d brushed her teeth for two whole minutes and combed every last snarl out of her unruly curls.
A social worker had driven her all the way out to the country, to a little white farmhouse with a dark red door and a sprawling apple orchard in the back. The people who lived there had seemed so nice. They’d had plenty of questions and she’d answered them as politely as she could. She’d played with their little boy and been shown the room that she would have gotten to share with their daughter. There had been a macaroni and cheese lunch with homegrown tomatoes and snap beans they’d just picked fresh from their garden. When the time had come to say goodbye, the lady had hugged her what seemed like a very long while. She remembered how they’d kept waving at each other, till the van pulled out of sight.
For weeks afterward, Merry had kept her heart on hold. She had waited and hoped for a reply that never came.
The social worker had explained things as well as anyone could. It wasn’t Merry’s fault, she said. People wanted babies, little children with no memory of a time when they weren’t part of a family.
Merry switched the phone to her left ear and sighed. Yes, she was well accustomed to being abandoned, but the fact that it was the story of her life didn’t make it any easier in the financial crunch of her here and now.
Abruptly, the muzak on Merry’s phone line clicked off. The disembodied voice returned, mechanically quoting the company line.
“Yes, I understand your policy,” Merry tried, “but I’m in a little pinch now and...I know I’m at my limit. I can’t tell you how acutely aware of that I am, but I was wondering, praying actually, that you could up my limit. Just a few hundred dollars to get me...No, I don’t have anybody I can...Okay, thank you.”
Merry hung up. She spoke to the phone in sheer frustration. “Why am I thanking you?”
♥ ♥ ♥
Outside in the driveway, Daniel opened the door of Catherine’s silver Mercedes, stealing a glance at the living room window from which his entire family monitored his not-so-private goodnight.
“We seem to have an audience,” Catherine observed with a bemused grin.
“Apparently,” Daniel agreed.
Catherine apologized again for her faux pas in mentioning Christmas. She explained that she’d hadn’t realized that the topic was off limits.
Daniel felt for her. He knew the evening couldn’t have been easy. He just hadn’t realized it would be quite as hard as it had been. “No, it’s fine,” he reassured, not entirely believing it. “It’s a fair assumption after three years.”
Catherine nodded softly. A moment of silence passed between them. “Are you still...?”
Daniel took time to run the question over in his mind. He wanted to be completely honest with her, even though it was hard to explain. “We got through the worst of it the first year, but then Christmas rolled around again the next year and nobody seemed ready to...” Daniel trailed off, searching for words. “Then same thing last year. It’s just, with losing their mom during the holidays, it’s been a while since the kids have felt like celebrating.”
Catherine took Daniel’s hand. She intertwined her fingers with his. “The kids. What about you?”
Again, Daniel took a moment, wanting to be sincere. He thought about what he couldn’t say, then gazed into Catherine’s eyes warmly and offered what he could. “Suffice it to say, I’m in the mood to celebrate now.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Merry knelt down beside her bed. Rudy curled up lazily beside her. Her elbows sunk into the thin batted mattress, making it pop up on the sides. Her hands clasped at her chin, Merry looked up, in earnest.
“So...is it okay to admit that I’m just a teensy bit freaked? Me and Rudy, here, we’re cutting it kind of close. But I was wondering maybe, if—”
Merry’s eyes filled. They teared the way they always did when she talked to the only Dad she’d ever known, the one who knew her best of all, the only one she could turn to and say whatever it was, no matter how terribly she was doing.
“Lots of people worse off than me, I know,” Merry acknowledged respectfully. “I don’t mean to ask for extras. Really, I don’t. Just enough to get by. That’s all I want this year.”
The next morning, Merry made her way toward the train station. It was a new day, she encouraged herself, filled with new possibilities. She reminded herself that there really was an upside to living so close to the tracks, especially now that she needed public transportation.
“Spare some change?” a bag lady pleaded.
So in need herself, Merry passed the woman, then stopped and turned back. She dropped some of what little she had into the woman’s cup and wished her a Merry Christmas.
“Merry Christmas to you, too. God Bless you, Miss!” the woman waved cheerily, flashing a rotten-toothed grin.
/> If that woman who had nothing could find reason to smile, Merry resolved that she would, too.
Entering Strong Bank & Trust wasn’t quite as daunting for Merry the second time around. She had remembered to toss her coffee cup outside at the corner receptacle, and she navigated the heavy revolving door with quite a bit more ease. Spotting Daniel’s now familiar face where he sat behind a handsome mahogany desk, Merry took at seat in his waiting area. He was on a call, so she took the time to gather herself.
Things had been tight for Merry before, but never so dire that she’d had to ask for a loan. She pulled out her loan application and smoothed over the folds. There was her entire financial history, summed up in less than three pages. Showing this to a stranger was a little like walking down a hospital hallway, she thought, like wearing one of those thin cotton gowns that gapped disconcertingly in the back.
Merry watched Daniel. She listened as he talked on the phone. Absently, he wound up a tiny, toy robot, then released it to march across his blotter.
Daniel shifted the phone on his ear. “Yes...The sooner you can run it the better...Tomorrow morning’s paper would be great...Yes, it’s—”
Merry watched as Daniel picked up a note. She listened as he read from it.
“It should read: ‘Help Wanted: Christmas Coordinator. Full Service shopper, decorator, and event planner for family. $7,500 salary, all expenses advanced.’ That’s it.”
Merry’s jaw dropped. She tried not to betray the fact that she had been eavesdropping, but nothing in her could help it. Maybe she was meant to overhear this, she reasoned. Maybe this was the answer to her prayers. She listened intently as Daniel continued on the call.
“Right. Then, just go with the blind e-mail box for replies...Absolutely...Sounds good.”