I Need a Little Christmas

8/8/2019 I Need a Little Christmas

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I need a little Christmas

The 11 year old boy‟ s head leaned on the window glass. It bobbed andbumped as the black Van with gold racing stripes wandered down theinterstate towards her house. An ever-present blur of trees and buildings shotby, dulling his senses during the ride from Columbus. Uncle Brad drove quietlyas Mom remained focused on finishing the wrapping of the presents.

“Dyna, you are still not done? Brad called back, a bemused look shining.She looked up from her pile of cut ribbon and paper rolls, putting beside theclear tape. “Yes. I‟ve one present left. It‟s for Grandma Josie.”

“I see,” he smiled. “What is it?” “A pashmina. She wanted one, so I found a cheap one.”

Chuckling filtered back as mom smiled to herself. Then as she gatheredup the various parts into a bag, she walked to the front passenger seat and sat

down. “Is she coming?” D yna asked softly. Brad knowing who she was. Helooked at the chunky tan car phone. “She called me saying she was going tothe hospital yesterday. They have this number and Grandma Josie‟s.” He spoke

with a somber tone. Suddenly, the phone warbled. Mom grabbed it, andanswered.

A long pause as she listened while Uncle Brad drove. The van turned off the interstate to a 7-eleven® outside Rochester, NY. Finally he took the phone.Mom looked at him after he parked, nodded and she got out. The side door slidopen and smell of winter filled the van. Cool breeze bit his nose as he climbedout bundled still in his coat. The last words heard before the van door shut was: So you are coming?”

Full of Slurpee® and hot dogs, he listened to the silence again. They wereback on Interstate 90. The blur and roar of the road returned. Only if felt moresomber than it did before.

“She had a girl; a beautiful baby girl who has her eyes.” The wistfulnessechoed. “It was her choice.” Mom reminded him. “Is she coming or do we needto stop at the hospital?”

“She‟s coming. Hiram and Leroy already signed the paper. They take the

child home tomorrow.”Mom nodded. He looked at her. “Was there any word from your parents

before we left about Christmas?”

The frown she made could be heard from the back seats. “No, they arestill angry that I moved to Columbus with you rather than to Albany withthem.”

“Are we going to see Nanny and Papaw?” Jessa, who was 8, asked from

the back seat.“Yes, dear,” she said with upbeat cheerfulness. Yet there was silence

until we arrived there three hours later.



The old two story Victorian house with the sash windows and oak frontporch was all lit up with an array of twinkling points. Blue, green, red, orange

and white flashed like winterized fireflies all around. Even the massive oblongshrubs running the sidewalks and porch were lit. The light post along the

walkway held a Christmas wreath around the globe. Santa and his sleigh were

parked on one side of the lawn and a manger on the other side. Cheer seemedto flood the place. So when Jim, in tan slacks and a green woolen sweater,stood on the porch with a steaming mug of cocoa, smiling, everything appeared well. Not so.

“Welcome. Nice of you to show, Dyna,” He remarked, after a sip of cocoa.“It‟s Christmas, Dad,” She said back as the children fell behind her. “Indeed it is. Children, run on inside. Nanny has presents for you.” He

stepped aside allowing them to run by. Dyna nodded and they took off, whooshing up the stairs and inside the rustic entry hall.

“Have you changed your mind?” He asked bluntly. “No. They need to be away from the chaos. Columbus is good for them,”

she said defensively.“And Albany isn‟t far enough? I understand. You loved Greg. Still why

stay with his brother who is a young adult?” “I am in college, sir.” Brad asked, rubbing his hands in the cold.

“All the more to not have the children there. You need to focus on yourstudies. Colleges also attract irresponsible behavior. It‟ s not conducive forraising children especially if you‟re a single parent.” He took another sip. His

eyes were sad but his voice never changed or rose. Dyna pouted, anger blazingin her eyes.

“Nor is this place. You know it. It‟ s over 100 years old. It‟ s on theNational Register of Historic Places. It has issues that you enjoy fixing, which is

why you and mom moved in seven years ago. Those same issues are not kidfriendly.”

Jim blinked, pursed his lips yet said nothing. Brad exhaled, a cloud of fog billowing from his lips. “We should go inside. It‟s freezing inside.”

She shot him a look that sucked the remaining warmth from him. “Younever truly liked Greg,” she hissed at her father. “Don‟t patronize me. “You were angry I married „that surfer bum‟ to begin with. She hugged her maroonpea coat, clapped her similar colored mittens, and wiped her Olympic blueUggs® on the mat. The screen door opened swiftly as she stormed through it.

Jim shrugged, and turned back to the door. “Why do you do that, sir?” Bradasked.

“I beg your pardon?” He wheeled from the porch. “Provoke her.” “I did no such thing. I just want these games to end. You should be

enjoying your life. You shouldn‟t have to care for a family. That‟s what we arehere for.” He walked in himself, leaving Brad to follow behind him.

The roasted caramel wood shouted elegance as he walked across theentry way into the viewing room. A 10 ft. Noble fir stood in the corner, fully



decked in red and green balls, popcorn strings and golden tinsel. Soft whitelights cast a warm glow. Small golden packages rested in piles under the tree

on a felt green wrap. “I‟m sorry. Jim comes off a bit gruff. It‟s just we want thebest for our girl.” The older lady with the drawn worry lines, crow‟s feet around

her cobalt eyes and tight rust red bun stood sympathetic.

Brad looked at Mrs. Kelly, her round, chubby face flushed red with warmth. “I do too. It wasn‟t offered lightly. You know the stress the murdercaused. How at least we got the media to go quietly. She needs someone tolean on. Jim isn‟t it.”

“Apparently not,” He said as he walked in. “The children are off in libraryrelaxing with cocoa and their toys. Dyna is locked in the bathroom, again.” Adisappointed look held his face. Yet anger and confusion sat there as well. “Are you staying the night or will this be it for this year.”

The words tumbled out harder than he had meant, because she frowneddeeply. He sighed, his carefully crafted mask exposing a crack.

“I had wanted too. However, I will leave that up to Dyna now. May I ask a

question?” “Sure. It can‟t get any worse,” he commented.“Jim!” she yelped, tossing a sharp glare. “Yes. Ask away.”

“What was wrong with Greg?” Jim hemmed and hawed for a moment, frankly shocked. Brad held this

sad cast about him, his joy leaking away.

“He struck me as irresponsible. Who makes skiing a career?” Jimfrowned, his irritation echoing.

“So would you say a music teacher is better?” Brad offered. Both of themlooked at him oddly. “He was a music teacher?”

“Yes. He‟s the reason I am going for a teaching degree rather than drama.I don‟t want his dream to die with him. Besides I was never that good of anactor anyway. I will get my bachelor‟s and then I will go teach music to childrensomewhere. Who knows, I might find a prodigy.” Brad grinned.

Dyna walked back into the room with her coat on. The children stoodbehind her, sad, clutching their toys. She held the Nintendo NES system in herhands. “I think we should go. I wanted to make Josie‟ s house by nightfall.” Herface was deep crimson, her eyes puffy and dark. The smeared mascara hadbeen wiped away. She sniffled.

“Ok. Your choice.” Jim said as he walked off. Everyone watched in shock.“I tried.” Brad said softly, sadness etched.

The road rolled on again. After a night at a Holiday Inn®, they arrived atGrandma Josie‟ s house in the morning dawn. Grandma Josie was actually

Brad and Greg‟ s grandmother. Looking like wrinkled peach velvet, she hobbledaround on a steel walker, wrapped in thick crocheted wraps. She stood in thesilent chill illuminated by fitful lights strung quickly. Santa was in this mangerscene with chickens and a goat. Of course someone sat Jay and Silent Bob



standees in the scene as well. They would have to be removed. At least it wasn ’ t a Samuel L. Jackson from Pulp Fiction.

As everyone piled out of the van, Sean approached to get the gifts. “Howare you doing, son?”

“Fine. A small issue when we stopped to visit her family. Other than that

I‟ m fine.” “Shelby‟ s here. She seems dark. I can‟ t seem to say anything to help.

She‟ s a shell.” He looked unsure as he pulled out the presents. Brad nodded. They walked into the same small four bedroom colonial house in Roxbury

neighborhood that Josie and Bill bought before World War two. As he walkedalone the cracked sidewalk, Brad noticed the vacant, trash filled lots andburned out buildings nearby. “ They still leave her alone. I‟ ve tried to get to herto move into our Brownstone in Mission Hill but she won‟ t have it. This will beher last Christmas I fear.” He seemed a touch despondent.

As Brad passed through the worn, dented, gunmetal grey door, he satthe presents down on an end table nearby. “I‟ m still here,” He whispered gently,

holding her to him. She felt small in his arms.“I think I did something horrible that I can‟ t undo. I‟ m such a fool,” she

lamented, staring hollow at the floor. He released her, holding her face in hishands. “You are beautiful, vivacious and warm. You are my shining gold star.”

Softly she smiled. Then it faded as reality seeped back in.“I gave her to Hiram. He has my daughter. And now, I can‟ t see her for

18 years.” Suddenly, a group of carolers stopped in front of the house. As the songs

of the birth of the savior of the savior rang out. Brad leaned over. “I had a

dream. She‟ s going to be a music prodigy. She would steal Debbie Gibson‟ s writing crown, get a Grammy and be on Broadway in a starring role. Can you

see it?” She nodded as the tears rolled down. “ Thank you. I needed that littlebit of Christmas. Do they mind if I stay before I go to New York?”

Brad looked despondent. “No. This is the first year without Greg. Of course you are welcome. I was hoping you would return with me.”

“I need this. So, no. Come with…” she stopped when Dyna walkedaround. “New years in Times Square at least?”

“Go. We will be fine here for the rest of the month,” Dyna nodded, with asmall smile. “At least someone will get something out of this horrid year.”

“I think someone got a miracle. Didn‟ t they?” Brad asked Shelby. She

leaned on his shoulder. “ They did.”

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I Need a Little Christmas