Return of the Ghost of Christmas Past

It was his first Christmas without her.  She passed away in late summer.  It was a private ceremony, him and her two sons, Baker and Ranson.  Baker brought his wife Francine and their two children while Ranson brought David, his life partner which always agitated him.

“It’s not natural.” He uttered continually throughout the service.

“Are you going to be alright?” Baker asked during a private moment after the ceremony.

“Yes.” He nodded.

“I worry about you dad.” Baker looked him in the eyes.

“I worry about what will become of this world.” He said coldly with a glance at Ranson and David holding hands and laughing. 

“Dad.” Baker sang, noticing his brother and his partner.

“It’s not natural.” He dropped his head.

“They are both happy.” Baker nodded, “Isn’t that what mom wanted for both my brother and me?”

“She meant with grandchildren.  I happen to know how disappointed he made her.” He stomped his foot.

“Keep it down, dad.” Baker shushed him.

“Don’t shush me.” He warned, waving his index finger in his son’s face.

“I will chalk this up to grieving.” Baker shrugged.

“Chalk it up to whatever.” He shook his head, “It ain’t natural.”

Sitting alone on the loveseat in front of the television watching Wheel of Fortune, he sat mindlessly watching with his bathrobe open exposing his dirty boxer shorts and sleeveless t-shirt.  She would give him an earful about his slovenly behavior, but she wasn’t here to do so.  He was eating cold food from a can he had opened and cursing the stupidity of the contestants.

“Dumb ass.” Would be his usual remark when one of the contestants made a stupid guess according to his way of thinking. 

Normally this was just another night at home, but tonight was Christmas Eve.  The house was undecorated and dark except for the television screen.  

Christmas was her favorite holiday and she would have the house decorated with a lifetime of tasteful decorations, but he could not be bothered to put them out.  He still harbored plenty of grief over the whole thing.

“Mr. Thebott.” Dr. Gunsell called him into his office.

Dutifully, he rose to his feet and obeyed her doctor.  

“Have a seat.” He pointed to an empty chair.  She was seated in the other chair near his desk.  She was quiet and her face was expressionless. She waited for him to sit, “We have some news, Del.” 

“What Gladys is trying to say is that her cancer has spread.” 

He did not remember much beyond that point except that in three short months she was gone.

He belched and then farted knowing that she would not  approve.  She would tell him that’s what bathrooms were for.

When she said this, it irritated him, but now that she was gone, he missed her nagging.  

Tomorrow the boys would be coming by for a family dinner.  Baker’s wife Francine and her daughter Tessa would be doing most of the cooking that included ham, potatoes, green beans, biscuits and plenty of gravy, enough to sink a yacht as David and Ranson would talk football.  Delbert would laugh to himself about the two of them taking interest in a man’s game.  Tessa would talk endlessly to him about all the stuff Santa brought her.  Francine and Baker were both professionals who were making a very comfortable income which they used to spoil their daughter and son.  

He had to remind himself it was only for an afternoon.  The evening weatherman promised a light dusting of snow.  At seventy-five years old, Delbert was too sedentary to bother shoveling snow anymore. 

As his headache began to peak in anticipation, he poured some whiskey into a cold cup of coffee he had at breakfast.  The whiskey would not cure his headache, but after a bit, he wouldn’t care at all anyway.

Sitting back sipping his loaded coffee, he closed his eyes and muttered, “Gladdis, I was sure that I’d be the first to go. You always took care of yourself.” He wiped the tears from his eyes, “I miss you so.” 

“Good to be missed.” A voice startled him.  He sat up.

“Cold coffee and whiskey.  How barbarian.” The strange man crossed his arms over his chest.

“May I be so bold as to ask you…who the hell are you?” Delbert’s eyes were wide.

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past, look upon me little man, you have never seen the likes of me before.” His voice rose with every word he spoke.

“Yes and I am tempted to call the police.” He reached for the phone on the table next to him.

“Paaaallllleeeessssseeee.” The strange man shook his head. “Did you not hear me?  I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.  Have you never read Charles Dickens?” The stranger sounded quite offended.

“Charles who?” 

“Dickens.  Christmas Carol?  Surely you have heard of this.” He looked away as a gesture of pure disgust.

“Sorry, but usually uninvited intruders do not carry on like you are.” He picked up the receiver and began to dial.

“Do not waste your time, my good man.” He rolled his eyes more dramatically than Tessa ever had when he did not know what the internet was. Delbert took another swig of his cold coffee. 

“Why are you here?” He gurgled.

“To show you as I did Scrooge the true meaning of Christmas.” He sniffed indignantly. 

“Bah! Who is this Skugge fella you mentioned?” 

“Scrooge.  Ebenezer Scrooge. Are you totally illiterate?” 

“I’d be careful with the attitude.  You are the one facing time for B and E.” He pointed a crooked finger at his uninvited guest.   

“I did not break anything.  I merely walked through your wall.  Which by the way could use some more insulation.” He jerked his head toward the living room wall.

“It costs money.  I’m on a fixed income.” He took another swig, draining the cup. 

“Running a dust rag over some of your furniture is still free, isn’t it?” He rubbed ghost finger across the surface of the end table and grimaced. “Nevermind, Scrooge, my original person did not care much for appearances either.” 

“So who is this Scrooge?” Delbert asks, pouring some more whiskey into the empty cup.  

“You have never heard of Ebenezer Scrooge? The stranger was aghast. 

“Sure, sure, but he’s not real.” Delbert shook his head dubiously.

“Not real? He most certainly was.” 

“No, he wasn’t.  It was just a child’s story.” Delbert shook his head again even more dubiously. 

“Kind sir, I assure you that Ebenezer Scrooge was most certainly a real person.” The stranger folded his arms and pointed his nose to the sky. 

“That guy…Dickens made him up.” Delbert replied after another swallow. 

“All stories, no matter what, contain some element of truth.” He countered. “His story was no different.”

“So you’re telling me, Ebenezer Scrooge was a real person.” Delbert waved his hand at him.

“Yes, yes he was.”

“And he was visited by three ghosts?” He chuckled.  It was fortunate that he watched the Donald Duck version of Christmas Carol so at least he knew the basic plot of the story.  It was stupid, but Tessa seemed to really like it while her brother liked the one about the kid who got left in his home alone. It was all designed to keep the peasants contented during the holidays while the rich merchants robbed them in the name of good cheer. 

“Yes, of which I was the first.” He nodded emphatically. 

“I must commend this whiskey as it has made me completely numb to any sort of reality.” Delbert turned off the television with the remote. 

“I certainly have my work cut out for me.” He stood up and put his hands on his hips.

“What work?” Delbert groaned.

“Making your holiday meaningful.” 

“Fat chance.” Delbert yawned in the stranger’s face.

“Your breath is something of a nightmare in itself.” He waved his hand in front of his face. “Shall we begin?” 

“Begin what?” 

“I was sent to bring cheer to your holiday.” He nodded definitively.

“As I said before, fat chance.” 

Before Delbert could get resettled on his loveseat, the room became so dark that anything familiar in the room was no longer visible.

“I want a bicycle, Santa.” A boy sat on a store Santa’s lap.  Clearly the falsely bearded Santa was bored beyond belief.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” He tried to meet the expectations of the department manager. “Bicycle, got it.” 

“Where is my bicycle?” The same child asked his father whose attention was elsewhere. “He promised.” 

“Yeah, yeah, Del.” He waved his hand as if this was supposed to assuage his disappointment. “I have to go to the hospital to see your mother.” 

His mother would never return and his vision of the holidays would forever be clouded by this and the promised bicycle that never arrived. 

“That’s me.” He put his hand to his mouth, “I remember that Christmas.  The disappointment.”

“Disappointment?  What about your mother?” The ghost shook his head.

“She was sick.  Dad said she would get better, but she never did.” Delbert bowed his head. “I was only a boy.  No one bothered to tell me that influenza could kill someone.”

“Follow me.” He waved his hand.

“Where are we going?” Delbert’s melancholy filled his voice.

“Some place you will remember.” He promised.

Once again darkness filled the spaces. Suddenly there was music.  Awful music. Sour notes bombarded his ears as a woman was seated at an organ playing a classical tune.

“Gladdis!” Delbert could not believe his eyes, but she was much younger as she ran her fingers over the keys and stepped down on the pedals with a fierce determination. “Oh my God, she was awful.”

“Oh, I have ears.” The ghost put his fingers in his ears to keep the sour notes from invading. 

“I came to propose to her.” Delbert smiled for the first time. “And to get her to stop playing.”  

“Did it work?” 

“Watch.” He pointed as a much younger Delbert entered the chamber.

“Gladdis.” The younger Delbert got down on one knee.  Gladdis stopped playing.

“Wha?” She gasped when she saw the ring in the box Delbert was holding.

“Would you be my wife?” He asked gently.

“Yes, yes, yes, the answer is yes.” She put her hands over her mouth and then kissed him.

“What is this?” The ghost noticed the tear that began in the corner of Delbert’s eye and began to travel down his wrinkled cheek. “Is that a tear?”

“Mind your own business, ghost.” He snapped, turning his head away.

“One more stop.” He nodded.   

The room again grew dark as a wind began to pick up.

Delbert was standing at Gladdis’ graveside with his two sons.

Reverend Pike was repeating Psalm 23 from his open bible with one hand holding down the page as wind blew carrying a hint of chill of the coming winter.

Tears flowed freely down Delbert’s cheeks.

“I loved her.” Delbert told the ghost, “And God took her from me.  For spite.”

“Life and death have no meaning except that which we assign them.” The ghost looked straight ahead showing no emotion. “Marked in our souls is the hour for which we will be called home. It was Gladys Thebott’s time.”

“If I had just a few more minutes, I would have told her how I truly felt about her.” He coughed, “Instead we had an argument about Ronson and David.”

“An argument, you say?” The ghost arched his eyebrow as he looked down on Delbert.

“It was nothing.” He shook his head as Reverend Pike spoke about the Valley of Death.

“It must have been something for you to mention it.” The ghost nodded.

“It was nothing, I tell you.” Delbert turned his back to the ghost.

“I see.” He said once again, raising an accusatory eyebrow. 

When Delbert opened his eyes, he was standing in his own living room still wearing his bathrobe and slippers as not a speck of dust had been disturbed.

“Are we done?” Delbert folded his arms across his chest.

“Just about.” The ghost nodded.

“What else could you possibly want to put me through.  Haven’t you had enough fun with me?  Or is there one more torturous thing you wish to do with me?” He was angry, but most of all he had been reminded of some of the more painful moments in his life.  The ghost pointed to the couch with just his chin.  Sitting on the couch was Gladys Thebott.

“Gladys?” Delbert’s jaw fell open.

“Delbert.” She smiled as she always did when he came in the door from work.  

“I must warn you that you have just a few minutes before she has to be returned from whence she came.” The ghost vanished leaving just the two of them together.

“Delber, how have you been?” She asked.

“Horrible since you left.” He sat next to her and took her hand.  It was just as he remembered it, the delicate sweet scent of lilacs. 

“How are the boys?” She tilted her head.

“Same.” He grunted.

“How is Ronson and David?” She prodded.

“It’s not natural.” His head was bowed low.

“You know how I feel about this, Del.” She tried to lower her head so she could meet his gaze.

“Baker did the right thing.” Delbert shrugged.

“Because he loved Francine, Del, just like Ronson loves David.” She explained in a calm voice the way she did when he became angry with her just before retiring for the evening.  Instead, she went upstairs to bed while he sat in front of the television and stewed. 

Chemotherapy had not gone well recently.  You could see it in off color of her skin, but even though the pain was getting worse, she would not complain. He had tried being a good supportive husband, but when it came to Ronson and David, he could not seem to control his tongue. Somewhere in his bible it spoke out against a man lying with another man.  He had known one of his coworkers who was in love with another man.  He heard how many of his coworkers had condemned them both for living in a life of sin and depravity. 

That’s what it was, depravity.

“Delbert, look at me.” Her voice was firmer, “My time is short and I don’t want to leave you like I did before.  Ranson and David are happy, just like Baker and Francine.  That should tell you something.” 

“What?” He uttered. 

“They are as lucky as we were.” She put her finger under his chin and slowly lifted his head until his sparkling blue eyes met hers. “We gave them what we could.  We gave our sons what they needed. Until you believe as I do, you will be filled with a coldness I can no longer warm.  Do you want to despise your son?  Do you want to see him unhappy?”

“No.” He sniffed as the tears began to flood his eyes.

“Then tell them how you feel.” Her soft voice was barely a whisper. “Give them the love and respect you gave me for forty plus years. It wasn’t easy for us.  I don’t think it was meant to be, but when I left I had no regrets except one.” 

“What was that?” He asked.

“That you and I parted on harsh terms.” She smiled as he nodded.

He leaned over and kissed her.  He closed his eyes as their lips touched, but when he opened them, she was gone.  

The Ghost of Christmas Past was standing there holding a pocket watch on a golden fob chain.  

“Time is up.” He clicked the watch shut and replaced it back into his pocket that wasn’t there a second ago. 

“Thank you.” He wiped the tears from his eyes. 

On Christmas day, Francine and Baker showed up early to help out in the kitchen as Tessa played with the new dolls Santa had brought them while Theo played video games with his X-Box hooked up to the television.

“Where’s Ronson and David?” Baker asked as he tested the potatoes with his finger.

“Baker.” Francine scolded him.

“I don’t know.” Delbert set the timer for the ham.

“You do know.” Baker shook his head 

The doorbell rang and Delbert left the kitchen to answer it.  Standing on the stoop was his son, Ronson.

“Hiya dad.” Ronson swayed on his heels, “David and I decided to have Christmas with our own kind.” 

Delbert peeked and saw David sitting in the passenger seat of Ronson’s car.

“Nonsense.” 

“Dad, you made it abundantly clear that neither of us are welcome here.  So, to save you the trouble and social awkwardness, we have made other plans.” He raised his chin.

“No son, you and David will share this day with the rest of us.” He waved to David. “You are my son and I love you very much.” 

The embrace caught Ronson completely off guard, but it was enough to get David out of the car.

“Are you sure?” Ronson was still reeling from the sudden embrace.

“As sure as I have ever been.” He opened the door and ushered Ronson and David into his home.

So, a subtle warning to all who may be visited by a Christmas ghost at some point during the next holiday, welcome anyone who may need some extra holiday cheer.