In Return for the Gloves

It was two weeks before Christmas, and Marty Blevins had just finished installing the last LED bulb above his fireplace, which was now lit up like a shrine. It was the final accomplishment, the final brush stroke, on his home remodeling work of art. Calling it “art” was probably high-minded, but Marty knew he was standing in a large new living room that had once been just a dirty old carport. 

Marty’s wife Gloria had been busy arranging chairs around the tables and fumbling with the stereo remote, to get the music just right. She wore a creamy white sweater, and her hair was tied back softly but elegantly, so that a few strands fell across her cheeks. She had already placed her prized garland on the mantle and the candles on the tables were lit. The air in the room had the faint smell of new carpet, fresh paint and delicious food. 

“What time did you tell everyone to come?” Marty asked, while folding the step ladder.

“I told them six,” Gloria said. “But from the looks of the weather, they might be late.” 

“It does look pretty wild out there,” Marty said. “I guess you can’t plan for everything. But the house looks amazing and so do you. If it ends up being just the two of us, I’m sure we’ll make the most of it.” He gave Gloria a mischievous smile. She tucked her chin and smiled back. Marty leaned the ladder carefully against a wall, then walked over to the front window. The warm lights of the room were casting a beam onto the freshly fallen snow in the yard. Snowflakes swirled in the light, brushing against the glass and then flying away quickly into a sea of dusky blue.

“Who do you think will make it here first?” Gloria asked.

“Probably Rick and Jenna,” Marty said. “I think Rick just bought a new truck. I’ll bet he’s chomping to test it out.” 

“Are the porch lights on?” she asked.

“Not yet. I’ll get them.” 

Marty walked down the hall into the older part of the house, past the kitchen to the garage. He put the ladder away and went to the front door. Then he turned on the porch lights and went back into the kitchen, sneaking a cracker with cheese from a plate on the counter. 

It had been a comfortable home, not without toil and trouble, but a home worth fighting for. It had been a nice neighborhood too, one that had helped them through good times and bad. They had raised their children here and watched other homes fill in the vacant lots around them over the years. In the early days, they never would’ve been able to afford any large-scale remodeling. It would’ve been nice to do it earlier, but they’d been too busy paying for high school sports and braces and car insurance. 

“Better late than never,” Marty thought to himself. “Sometimes good things take a while to come around.” 

Just then the doorbell rang. As they had expected, it was Rick and Jenna. The two were smiling and red-cheeked, with snowflakes on their shoulders when they stepped inside. 

“Hey Marty,” Rick said cheerfully. “Nice little Christmas storm we got going.” 

“I’d say,” Marty replied, lingering in the doorway so he could look outside on the scene. “I might need to make another pass on the walks with the snowblower before the night’s over.”

“What a shame,” Rick said, smiling and flexing his arm. “I guess you’ll be forced to do your manly duties and spend some time outside with your machine.” Marty chuckled and they walked into the living room. Rick and Jenna began swooning about the new place while taking off their coats. Gloria helped hang the coats in a closet. She had always been known for having a youthful appearance, but tonight she seemed like a child again.

“This looks amazing,” Jenna said, smiling. “It does so much for the whole house. There’s so much more space now, and light.” 

“Yes,” Gloria said brightly. “We’re really loving it.” 

“I’m so happy for you guys,” Jenna said. “Can I help with anything?”

“I think we’re good,” Gloria said. “The ham’s in the oven, almost done. The green beans just need to be warmed up. Maybe you could help put out the glasses?”

Six o’clock came but no one else had arrived. The storm was holding steady, and the distant landscape had faded into low clouds and swirling snow. Marty and Rick put on their coats and went back outside, and Marty began running the snow blower in the driveway while Rick shoveled the front walkway. It was almost 6:30 when the next guests began to arrive. There was Ben and Rachel Stevens with three teenagers, two boys and a girl, and Oscar Robinson with his wife Terry, followed by the Parkinson’s from down the street who brought their adult daughter Mandy along. Then Romeo Thompson, Marty’s old wrestling teammate, showed up. Marty had invited him a few days ago, after seeing him at the grocery store, but wasn’t sure if he would come. Romeo had recently moved back into the neighborhood after having been overseas. They all parked on the newly cleared driveway and shuffled their way inside. 

By now the house smelled delicious and soon the conversations were in full swing. Gloria turned up the background music. She was bustling back and forth from the kitchen to the tables, and Jenna was helping as best she could. 

Soon Marty and Gloria’s oldest daughter Megan and her husband arrived with four young kids. The house was overflowing with people now, but it was exactly how Marty and Gloria wanted it. They had a shared goal to spend their later years surrounded by children, grandchildren and friends, and to create a place where it was possible. 

Before long, dinner was served. Frank Sinatra was playing on the stereo and everyone in the room began to eat. “The ham is delicious,” Marty said, leaning into his wife and holding her hand. 

“Yes, it turned out perfectly,” Gloria said. “Do you think we need to restock the charcuterie boards yet?”

“Might be getting close,” Marty said. “I can get started with that. You’ve done enough.” 

“Hey,” Gloria said. “Before you go. Who’s that boy sitting at the end of the table with the Stevenses?”

“I don’t know,” Marty said. “I’m pretty sure they only had two kids. Maybe he’s a friend.” 

“Well he’s just been sitting there,” Gloria said. “He hasn’t been talking to anyone or eating very much.” 

“Hm,” Marty said. “I’ll have to start asking around.” 

They were both looking at the young man, trying not to let him notice. They could see his chair was spaced away from the closest Stevens, and they had not seen any interaction between them. The young man was against the wall by the new bookshelf, and he was mostly looking down at his plate, stirring his food, but he was still wearing his coat. Gloria felt embarrassed that she didn’t know enough about the Stevens to know if they had two kids or three, or if one of them had a close friend that she didn’t know about. She got up to get more drinks from the kitchen and start on desserts. On the way, she passed Jenna who was bringing more butter for the rolls. 

“Hey Jenna,” Gloria whispered. “Do you know who that boy is, the one sitting at the end of the table by the Stevenses?” Jenna looked over and could see the boy, still stirring his food. He looked to be about fifteen. He had brown shaggy hair and a somber face with thick eyebrows that would someday make him very handsome. His coat was dark gray and long, almost like a trenchcoat. They watched as he rested his chin in his hand and leaned up against the bookshelf. And then they noticed perhaps the strangest detail of all: the snowflakes on his coat had not melted–not even in the warmth of the room. 

“Why’s there still snow on his shoulders?” Jenna whispered back at Gloria.

“Good question,” Gloria said. “That’s crazy.” 

The demands of dinner required the two women to separate before the question could be answered. Gloria didn’t see Marty again for several minutes, but she finally caught up with him in the kitchen. 

“We can’t figure out who he is,” Gloria said. “We’ve been watching and he hasn’t been talking to anyone.” 

“He had to have come with the Stevenses,” Marty said dismissively. 

“I don’t know,” Gloria said. “I’ll try to ask them discreetly, but it’s really starting to weird me out.” Marty started rinsing a platter in the sink. 

“Slip Rachel a note or something,” he suggested.  

Gloria grabbed a pencil and a small piece of paper from the kitchen drawer. She filled out the note and concealed it under a platter of cookies. She took it back out to the living room and carefully passed the note to Rachel Stevens. It simply read: Who’s the boy at the end of the table? Do you know him?

When Rachel read the note, her eyes grew wide. She took a sideways glance in the direction of the boy then turned to Gloria and shook her head slowly back and forth. Gloria felt a lump in her throat and a sudden chill. If Rachel Stevens didn’t know who the boy was, there was no indication that anyone else did either.

“She doesn’t know who he is,” Gloria hissed at Marty once back in the kitchen. She clutched at Marty’s sleeve, digging her fingernails into his arm. 

“Someone probably knows him,” Marty said. “Just because he’s sitting there quietly, doesn’t mean anything. I spent half my teenage years sitting there quietly, especially at neighborhood parties.” 

“We have to ask everyone now,” Gloria said.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Marty countered. “If we ask everyone, and nobody knows him, then we’ll have real panic on our hands. He’s not causing any problems for the moment. Maybe he’s just a homeless kid that snuck in with everyone else, to get out of the cold.” 

Gloria was suddenly feeling brave, like someone who sees jumping through fire to be the only way out of a building. 

“Well, I’m gonna take him a cookie,” she said. “And ask him.” 

Outside the house, the snowfall had diminished, but the wind had steadily increased. From time to time, a few gusts were strong enough to make the roof shudder. In the living room, people were still laughing and having a good time, but the strange boy remained silent

“Go ahead and try it,” Marty said. 

Gloria began to head out with the cookies, but Marty suddenly grabbed her elbow and swung her back. He pulled her behind the wall and he was shaking. 

“What is it?” Gloria said. Her mouth hung open and her cheeks were colorless. 

“Under his coat,” Marty said, almost stuttering. “He unzipped his coat. He’s wearing a sweater underneath.”

“So what?” Gloria said. Marty leaned back on the countertop with both hands. He was shaking and gripping the edges of the counter until his knuckles were pressed white. It seemed like a long time before he could talk again. "Don't say anything to him yet."

Almost instantly, they heard the wind and the lights in the house flickered before suddenly going dark. Everyone gasped and someone screamed. 

“It’s okay,” Marty called out, trying to reassure them. “It’s probably just the breaker. We’ve had some trouble with it.” Marty went down the hall into the master bedroom and got his flashlight. He went out to the breaker and tried turning the switches off and on again. He was able to get the old part of the house to come back on, but the living room stayed dark. Marty was frustrated and began to feel embarrassed about how much he had wanted the night to be flawless. But he could only think of how trivial it all was compared to real suffering.

“Maybe we’ll have to move everyone into the kitchen,” Gloria said, coming up behind him. “But it’s not enough space, so I guess we’ll just have to end the party early.” 

Suddenly the lights in the living room came on, followed by the backdoor opening. Marty and Gloria rushed through the kitchen and found everyone in the room standing and staring silently at the open door. After a moment, Rick came in from the backyard. He was out of breath. 

“He’s gone,” Rick said. 

“What?” Marty said. 

“That kid,” Rick said. “The one with the coat. He just ran out into the snow. I tried to stop him. I yelled and told him it wasn’t safe, but I lost sight of him.” 

“Does anyone know him?” Marty asked everyone now. They were all motionless. Romeo Thompson had cookie crumbs suspended on the corners of his mouth. His big shoulders were heaving. Terry Robinson clutched at the collar of her bright red sweater, making the little bells jingle.

“He didn’t come here with anybody,” Rachel Stevens finally said. “We were all sitting in the dark when he just stood up. He zipped up his coat, went over by the switch and put his hand on the wall. Then everything came back on, even the music. He didn’t even look at us. He just smiled and ran out the back.” 

 Marty went to the door and walked out into the deep snow, going almost to the far end of the yard. The trees creaked in the wind, dark and bent against the sparkling white. He could almost see the boy’s track, going along the treeline and uphill toward town. But it was quickly blown over and soon disappeared. Marty came back inside and shut the door behind him. They all began gathering their things, preparing to leave. Gloria started passing off as many leftovers as she could. 

“It was still a wonderful night,” Romeo Thompson said to her, while taking a plate of ham. “Everyone said so.” 

Soon only Rick and Jenna remained. They played board games with Marty and Gloria until late in the evening, warmed by a fire in the new fireplace. None of them mentioned the boy again, but he stayed on their minds until the night was over and Rick and Jenna went home. 

“The last time I saw that sweater, it was on a dead kid,” Marty said casually as they were getting ready for bed.

“Stop it,” Gloria said. “That’s not funny.” 

“I’m not joking,” Marty said, gulping. “Do you remember the big storm back in 1998? There were high winds and blowing snow that night, and the drifts went clear up the sides of the houses. Your family might have been out of town.” 

“I think I remember,” Gloria said. “But so what?” 

“Remember that little boy who was in the news,” Marty said. “He disappeared that night? I helped with the search party.”

“I kind of remember,” Gloria said. “But it was a long time ago. We hadn’t even started dating yet. Was it the kid who went sledding after dark?”

“Yes, him,” Marty said. He paused and got a drink from the bathroom sink faucet. “We found him three days later under a snow bank and…he was wearing a sweater just like that. I remember it as clear as day, the little Notre Dame Irishman with his dukes up. That white color wasn’t very common then, probably still isn’t. And some said it made it take longer to find him in the snow.” Gloria was trying to brush her teeth, but stopped.

“There has to be a real explanation for why he was here,” she said. “The sweater must've been a coincidence.” 

“Maybe. But I remember I found some gloves by a mailbox a few weeks later,” Marty continued, choking up a little. “They were only a couple hundred feet from where we found his body. The detective was going to take them as evidence, but foul play had been ruled out by then, and the gloves had been run over a few times, so he just gave them to me.” 

“What did you do with them?” Gloria asked as they began to tuck themselves into bed. Marty rested his hands on the pillow behind his head. The wind outside had calmed, and the moonlight was forming magical shadows on the freshly fallen snow. 

“They were nice little gloves,” Marty said. “A bit worn on the fingertips, but I was able to mend the leather just fine. I took them to the family, not knowing for sure if they were actually his.” 

“What did they say when you brought them?” Gloria asked. 

“His mother cried,” Marty said. “She held them to her chest and told me how grateful he would’ve been to have them.”