He stared at the tree lights: his tears had turned them into manypointed stars.
She raised up so she could see his face. “Christopher, listen to me.” She saw his glistening eyes, found a corner of the quilt and dried them. “They gave you birth, and for that you should be grateful. Somehow, out of all those misbegotten genes and chromosomes, a few of the right ones went to you and made you a good person who cares about your fellow man. But beyond that, they shirked every responsibility known to sociology. I will never again encourage you to go to them, because they don’t deserve you. Alcoholism, they say, is an illness. But character is not. Their character, or lack of it, is inexcusable. Since I’ve known you, listened to you, learned what your childhood was like and how it’s affected your adulthood, I’ve come to agree with you that parents earn love from their children, and they did nothing to earn yours. Now stop feeling guilty because you can’t love them.”
He kissed her forehead and said, “You’re so damned good for me.”
She was leaning on his chest with one arm, a hand in his hair while stroking his forehead repeatedly with her thumb. “Yes, I am,” she whispered. “And you’re good for me, too.”
He looked at her with some amazement. “Did you really say you love me?”
“Yes, I did. We both did . . . and not in the middle of a thrusting match on the floor either. There’s some significance in that, isn’t there?”
They both considered it awhile, then he said, “Thanks for the stocking.”
“You don’t know what’s in it yet. Could be a stick and a lump of coal.”
He’d been battling some wrenching inner emotions all evening, and they won at last. He gripped her hard, drawing her down against his chest, putting his face in her hair and squeezing his eyes shut against the sting within, the mixture of heavyheartedness and lightheartedness this night had brought.
His parents—the failures.
This woman—the healer.
“Thanks for all of this,” he said brokenly. “I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you.”
She let him hold her, listening to him gulp down great knots of emotion until at last he freed her and she raised up to see his face.
“Feeling better now?”
He nodded and dried his eyes with his knuckles.
She kissed his mouth with extreme tenderness and whispered, “See you in the morning. No digging in the socks till everyone’s up.”
JANICEawoke first, shortly after sunrise. She tiptoed to the kitchen and plugged in the electric coffeemaker, then stuck her head around the archway of the living room. Christopher lay on his side with both hands up near his face, one knee updrawn, protruding from the covers along with one bare foot. She studied his foot—medium length, bony, with some pale hair on the toes. She studied the palm of his right hand, fingers curled above it in repose. She studied his hair, so thick and manageable it scarcely looked mussed from his night’s sleep. She studied his mouth, open a sliver as he slept, and imagined kissing it someday.
Down the hall a bedroom door opened and Christopher’s eyelids flinched. The bathroom door closed and he woke up, saw Janice half-hidden around the doorway and went into a stretch with one elbow pointing at a corner of the ceiling.
“Oh . . . hi . . .” His words were distorted by the stretch. “Did I sleep too late?”
“No, everyone’s just starting to wake up.” She smiled. “Merry Christmas.”
“Yeah, thanks, same to you. Is that coffee I smell?”
“Sure is. There’ll be a jam-up in the bathroom, so go ahead and have a cup while you wait your turn.”
“Thanks, I will.”
“I heard you and Mom talking last night after I went to bed.”
She waited while he wondered what she expected to hear him say.
“Yeah, I had something I needed to talk to her about.”
“How long did you talk?”
“Not long. Ten minutes maybe.”
“She’s great, isn’t she? You can talk to her about anything.”
“Yeah, you sure can. But I knew that from Greg. He always told me that about her.”
“It’s been pretty awful around here without him since the holiday started, but we’re all putting on a brave face.”
“I know. I miss him, too.”
She laid her cheek and one hand against the archway. “Thanks for filling in for him, Chris. Your being here means a lot to all of us. Especially to Mom.”
* * *
HOWhe and Lee managed to keep their feelings hidden throughout the rest of that day was an act of sheer determination. They sat on the living room floor and pulled the booty out of their stockings, still dressed in bathrobes and sweat suits, laughing at such findings as edible candy worms, bubble-gum “mosquito eggs,” false eyelashes as long as spaghetti, socks with bear claws and footpads painted on them and red clown noses, which they all put on while they continued digging. Janice had bought Joey a sex manual for teenagers, which caused some laughter and some blushing, while Lloyd had gotten everyone coupons for McDonald’s. In Christopher’s stocking he also found tiny bottles of aftershave, a deck of playing cards, a key holder, a rubber stamp with his home address (from Joey, which surprised him because it meant they’d had longterm plans for his presence here this morning). And from Janice, two tickets to a Timberwolves game. “If you need company, just let me know. I love the Wolves,” she said.
“Gosh, thanks, Janice,” he answered. “I just might.”
When the stockings were emptied, they all got juice and coffee and settled down in the living room to open the gifts beneath the tree. Christopher had put plenty of thought into the gift he gave to each of them. For Joey, the object of every teenager’s covetousness: a pair of Oakley sunglasses with dragonfly-blue lenses and Croakies to match. For Janice, a trip to Horst, which the gals at the police station assured him was the beauty shop of note in the Twin Cities. For Lloyd, a membership to a health club with a walking track. And for each of them, the last photograph he’d taken of Greg, blown up to a five-by-seven and framed.
The pictures brought tears, of course, but Lloyd put it best when he held the frame in one hand, wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his bathrobe and said, “We all needed this. We’ve been missing him a lot and haven’t said anything. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve been sneaking off to wipe my eyes whenever he came to mind, which has been often. Now, thanks to Chris, he’s here with us in this room again, in all our hearts at once. Thanks, Chris . . . thanks a lot.”
When the emotional moment passed, they finished opening gifts. Joey gave him a paperback novel about a police detective, Lloyd a billfold, Janice a compact disc by Wynonna Judd, and Lee a coordinated sweater and shirt. It was only later, when he was taking the shirt out of the plastic sleeve and removing the pins, that he found, in the pocket, a fourteen-karat gold bracelet. Hanging from it by a golden thread was a small, flat red foil heart upon which the manufacturer’s name was stamped in gold. Inside, on the space provided, she’d written Love, Lee.
He modeled his clothes—they fit—and kept on the wrinkled new shirt with his police trousers while they cleaned up the living room and ate a ham dinner, and tried Joey’s new video game, and got a portion of the frame of a jigsaw puzzle put together. Finally, when he was getting ready to go home, he found a moment alone with Lee.
“I found the bracelet,” he told her. “But it’s too much.”
“It’s what I feel. Are you wearing it?”
He extended his wrist, proving that he’d had no intention of giving it up, too much or not. “Thank you, Lee. I really love it.”
She touched the links with one finger. “So do I.”
“And the heart.”
She kissed his wrist where the warm gold chain crossed it.
“I wish you could stay.”
“So do I. Are you going over to Sylvia’s later on?”
“I’m not sure. It’s awfully nice, just lolling around here.”
“If I drive by, I’ll give a honk. Well, I’d better say goodbye to the others.”
Lloyd and Joey were in the living room playing the video game. They paused to say goodbye. Janice was in her bedroom trying on clothes. He knocked on her door and she came into the hall wearing a sweater with tags hanging from its wrist.
“Gotta go,” he said. “Thanks for the best Christmas of my life.”
“Thank you, too.” She caught him around the neck with one arm and held him for only a moment. “And don’t forget—call me if you want company at the Timberwolves.”
He patted her back and they parted.
Lee saw him out. When he stood on the step and she held the door open behind him, he turned back and said, “I change shifts in three days, back to day shift, plus I have the whole New Year’s weekend off. I want to take you out on New Year’s Eve, so think up some excuse. Better yet, tell them the truth.”
He left her with that challenge. She closed the door already beginning to scour her mind for explanations.
14
TWO days after Christmas, Lee received a beautiful greeting card from Christopher. In it he’d written: Dear Lee,
Although I tried to tell you on Christmas Eve just how much it meant to me to be with you and your family for the holiday, I don’t think I did a very good job. Your family is all that mine isn’t, and being with you has been an education as well as a pleasure. If there were more families like yours, guys in my line of work would be put out of business. Being with you personally has come to be the best part of my life right now. You’re a great lady, a special person, and a wonderful friend. Thanks a lot for everything you do for me, and especially for the Christmas gifts. The shirt and sweater are just what I like, but the bracelet—wow! I sure wasn’t expecting that. I wear it every day and think of you when I put it on and when I see it there on my wrist. I’ll never forget this Christmas as long as I live, and I have a feeling the same will be true about New Year’s Eve. I just can’t wait.
Love,
Christopher
It had been years since she’d received an affectionate greeting card from a man. Reading his words she felt romantic again, vibrant, eager—all the entirely feminine reactions of the wooed woman. It struck her as unusual that a man without a mother’s positive in. uence would write a note such as this. He, too, was special to have done so. She reread the note time and again, sitting at home in the kitchen where they’d first kissed, thinking how unexpected was the advent of this young man into her personal life when she had not been looking for anyone to fill a gap. Indeed, she hadn’t known the gap existed, now here he was, putting anticipation in her life, excitement in her days and a flurry in her widow’s heart, which had been content to go unflurried for so many years.
How bizarre and unexpected to end up kneeling beside a man— especially one of Christopher’s age—on a sofa on Christmas Eve and hearing that he loved her, telling him she loved him. Yet it was absolutely true. She loved him. What was to come of it, she had no idea, but the change it had wrought in her life felt so incredibly glorious she would go on gifting herself with his presence and enjoying each moment they spent together.
He called as she was sitting there reading his card for the fifth time. His voice had the power to turn her radiant within. He could say, simply, “Hi,” as he did now, and in her breast happiness . owered, filled her with a wondrous sense of well-being, a benefaction that flowed on long after the conversation ended.
“I was reading your card,” she told him, “. . . again.”
“I meant every word in it.”
“I loved every word in it. It’s been years since I got a card like that from a man.”
“You say that often—it’s been years.”
“Well, it has been. Do you mind?”
“No. Actually, it’s sort of a thrill when I hear it. I like being the one bringing you back to life.”
“You certainly are doing that.”
“So how about dancing? Has it been years since you’ve done that, too?”
“Actually, it has been.”
“Want to give it a whirl on New Year’s Eve?”
“Yes!” she said, excited. “Oh, yes! I haven’t bought a dancing dress in years!” He laughed. She laughed. “I said it again, didn’t I?”
“A bunch of the guys from the department have reserved a block of tables at the Bel Ray ballroom. High Noon is playing.”
“Who’s High Noon?”
“The best country band around.”
She gave a moment’s thought to his invitation. “The department guys, huh?”
“You ready to face them as my date?”
“What do you think they’ll say?”
“They’ll tease me, but not when you’re around.”
“Well, if you can take it, I can take it. Are you a good dancer?”
“Passable. How about you?”
“I’ve got rhythm, but I’ll probably be a little rusty.”
“Want to go out to dinner first?”
“Dinner, too? Christopher, you’ll spoil me.”
“I’d love to. How about if I pick you up at seven?”
“Fine.” After a pause, she said, “Christopher, I’m so excited. I haven’t been out on New Year’s Eve since 1983.”
“We’ll make it a night you’ll never forget.”
SHEsaid to Janice and Joey, “Do either one of you object to Christopher taking me out on New Year’s Eve?” Joey said, “Not as long as you give me money to order a pizza.”
Janice’s expression drooped. “Oh, shoot! If I’d known, I wouldn’t have made plans with Nolan and Jane.”
Lee gazed at her daughter feeling somewhat miffed. Was she so old and decrepit that it was inconceivable Christopher might want to take her out without her children? Unbelievably, Janice failed to realize this was a real date. If it was a case of hiding in plain sight, so be it. Lee wasn’t going to elucidate.
“The police department guys have reserved a bunch of tables at the Bel Ray ballroom and we’re going out there.”
“Dancing?” Janice exclaimed.
“Yes, dancing. Is there anything wrong with that?”
“Well, no, but . . . gosh, Mom, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Yes it has, and I’m pretty excited. What are you doing that night?”
“Going to a party at one of the girls’ houses I worked with at The Gap last summer. She said I could bring anybody I want so I asked Nolan and Jane if they wanted to come along.”
“What about you, Joey?”
“Could I have Denny stay overnight?”
“If it’s okay with Denny’s mom, and if she knows I won’t be here till later. And no girls.”
“No girls. Sandy is skiing in Colorado with her family, but will you pay for pizzas?”
“I’ll pay for pizzas.”
“All right!” He socked the air. “We can play video games all night!”
LEEbought a new dress. It was fun-loving, flouncy and had a twotiered skirt in solid red. She bought red pumps to match, and real silk panty hose, then hung multicolored earrings on her ears and a glob of matching color above her sweetheart neckline. Christopher came to pick her up dressed in jeans, sport coat, string tie and cowboy boots. He escorted her out after complimenting her looks, holding her coat, opening the door and in general acting as attentive as any normal young swain who comes a-courting.
When they’d left and Janice was still standing in the front hall with her saliva glands pumping, Joey said, “I think he likes Mom.”
“Well, of course he likes Mom. Everybody likes Mom.”
“But, I mean, I think they’re going steady or something.”
“Going steady! Oh, Joey, for heaven’s sake, Mom is forty-five years old and Christopher’s only thirty! He’s just being nice to her because Greg is dead and he knows she’d be lonesome otherwise.”
“Open your eyes, nipple-head! Look at how she was dressed! She didn’t look like any old lady to
me.”
Janice rolled her eyes and headed back to the bathroom to finish combing her hair. Fourteen-year-old brothers could be so dense!
JANICEwas partially right. Christopher was being nice to Lee. Four blocks away, he had pulled his Explorer to the side of the street and was kissing her masterfully enough to suck off half the new lipstick she’d just applied. His left hand was inside her coat, caressing her breast, and his tongue was inside her mouth. When the kiss finally ended he said with his forehead against hers, “Are you sure you want to go dancing?” “Yes,” she answered, smiling. “First.”
They ate at Finnegan’s—lightly, because they talked and laughed and flirted so much that when the waiter came to claim their plates for the third time, they let him take them even though the food wasn’t gone yet.
Christopher said, “Good God, you look pretty.”
Lee said, “Good God, you look handsome.”
“Is the dress new?”
“Everything’s new. Me, too, I think.”
“You’re going to be, before this night’s over.” He was holding her hands across the table, adoring her with his eyes. “I’ve got something for you.” He released one hand, took a paper from his pocket and handed it to her. It was a green sheet, folded like a business letter. She opened it and read across the top “Lufkin Medical Laboratories.” Lower down the page a single item jumped out at her: HIV negative.
Color leaped to her face. All within her seemed to surge to the sexual parts of her body. She gaped at him over the paper.