A New Christmas Carol

A New Christmas Carol

Mandy surveyed the living room, lips pursed, hands on hips, as if she was an inspector checking out a defective work place. All that was missing was a hard hat and Hi-Viz jacket. As she studied each detail, her tongue click-clacked disapprovingly.

“Dad, when will you realise that Mum has gone? She’s not coming back”. Mandy’s eyes were fixed on the table, set as always for two people. She had never made time for sentiment or retrospection. Her gaze was always firmly towards the future. Her no-nonsense, business like attitude was reflected in her appearance- perfect make-up that was never showy or overdone, hair neatly pulled back into a tight bun, a fitted skirt and jacket that showed off her trim size six figure, stockings pulled so tight they could be guarding a national treasure, and stilettos that made it look like those legs went on forever. Businessmen would look admiringly, but with a hint of caution. “Don’t mess with me” she seemed to say, “You can look but don’t touch.” Women studied her with alternative feelings of admiration and jealousy. It was easy to see which parent she had taken after- and it wasn’t her Dad.

Adam ignored her, preferring to put the finishing touches to the table setting- Christmas napkins and two crystal wine glasses. “There, all set” he declared proudly.

“Dad, this is so stupid. It’s just YOU- unless you’re expecting someone”. Her expression changed from one of contempt to concern. Thoughts of some opportunist woman jeopardizing the inheritance ran through her head. “Dad, you’re not seeing anyone are you?”

He chuckled and returned his daughter’s serious gaze. “Don’t be ridiculous Amanda. You know there has never been, never will be, anyone else but your mother. It’s just that I miss her so much.”

She took his hand, her tone calmer and more sympathetic. “I know. But you just have to accept it and get used to it. There’s no point in pretending she is still here.”

Adam sat down in his favourite chair, the cushions permanently molded to his shape. She used to sit in the opposite easy chair, where they would spend countless hours chatting while they watched television or read books. It had all seemed so calm, so normal, like it would go on for ever. Adam had never suspected that anything was wrong.

“It’s just that I never expected her to leave me. So keeping things just the way they were is my little way of pretending everything is just like it was.”

Mandy disapproved, but she also understood. Her parents had been so close that she had never expected them to part either. And in a way she was relieved. Her father’s thinking was quite lucid, even logical. He was in a form of denial but not suffering from delusions or the early stages of dementia as she had once feared. However bizarre his behaviour seemed to her, there was a type of reasoning behind it. Pretend everything was normal and life could go on; admit that it wasn’t and her father’s world might come crashing down. As long as his fantasy didn’t turn into some bizarre Norman Bates fixation with wigs and dresses, she could tolerate it. But there needed to be limits, she thought, as she studied the living room again.

“Dad, there’s no need to do the Christmas decorations just like mum did them, it’s too much, especially when you will be spending Christmas day with us. And I haven’t got time to help you take them down- we’re going on vacation straight after Boxing Day. To somewhere warm,” she added, noticing the snow that was steadily falling outside.

“But I love these decorations. Some of them belonged to your grandmother. Your mother and I used to buy a special new decoration every year, even when you and Peter were growing up and we were as poor as church mice. And then there are the ones that you both made when you were at kinder or school. Every one has a story to tell and I don’t want to keep them locked away, gathering dust. When I put them out, it’s just like your mother is here again”.

Mandy knew that she wasn’t going to win the argument, but she was determined to score at least a couple of minor wins. “Well, maybe you could retire the macaroni angels”, smiling awkwardly with embarrassment as she studied the crooked “wings” that adorned a rotund body made of pasta. “Or that bauble I painted back in primary school, where I wrote the “d” in Amanda backwards! Surely you wouldn’t miss them.”

Adam shook his head and raised his hand to interrupt before she had decided to throw away every precious keepsake. “That’s what makes it so cute”, he mused. “Reminds me that you weren’t always such a high flying business executive!”

Mandy chose to ignore the barb, instead crossing the room to pick up an ornate musical ornament- a couple and their two children caroling next to an old gas lamp. It was a scene straight out of Charles Dickens. “And what about this?” She wound the key but instead of playing “Silent Night” it gave a dull clunk. “It’s been broken for years- get rid of it.”

Adam rose from the chair in the defense of the music box. “Get rid of it! Why, that’s us…mum, dad and the two of you! We used to sing Christmas carols for the neighbors, rugged up in our hats and coats, cheeks and noses red with the cold. That’s why we bought it, as a reminder of those happy times. Now that your mother has gone it’s even more precious.”

Mandy was losing patience. Admit it, she thought, Dad is a hopeless hoarder. He never gets rid of anything. Inspection of the rest of the house, cluttered with a lifetime of keepsakes, confirmed it. It was such a contrast to the sleek, uncluttered look of her apartment that she couldn’t stand it.

“Dad, I’m going. I just can’t get it through to you. You don’t need this junk! But if you want to fill up the whole house, never throw anything away and pretend that Mum is still living here, be my guest”.

Adam had tired of the familiar argument, made worse every Christmas when the decorations and ornaments came out. He couldn’t bear to part with any of them- the storage cupboard in the attic was a treasure trove full of memories that kept the past alive, and made it seem like his wife was still there and that nothing had changed. But Mandy, with her business ambitions and obsession for neatness and order, would never understand. She didn’t grasp how the past informs the present and that objects aren’t important for what they are, but for the memories they represent. And for Adam, every item in their house held a memory of a time when he and his wife were sublimely happy, where children woke excitedly at the crack of dawn to see what Santa had brought them and where the future seemed to hold only happiness. All gone now.

She kissed her father on the cheek. “I’ll see you on Christmas Day. Paul and the kids are looking forward to seeing you. Peter and his partner will be there too. Dinner is at 12.30, so don’t be late.”

“Goodnight Mandy.” Did she really need to add that bit about being late? After all, he had nothing else to do on Christmas morning, except to unwrap the present he had bought for himself but labelled ‘To Adam, love always from Susan.’ “Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

He offered to walk Mandy to the door but she told him not to bother. “I’ll let myself out. Merry Christmas.”

The door slammed shut and once again, Adam was by himself, surrounded only by memories.

He shuffled back to his chair and snuggled up beside the cosy fire, wrapping a rug over his legs. He turned on the television- could he stand watching “A Wonderful Life” again? Of course he could, it was like a visit from an old friend. He and Susan used to watch it every Christmas, and he still shed a tear when all of George’s friend came to his rescue and his brother Harry made a toast to “the richest man in town.” Rich with friends and family. If only my own life was like that, Adam thought.

****

Adam woke with a start. “A Wonderful Life” had been replaced by a less wonderful infotainment program. He must have slept for hours. The fire was just a few glowing embers. His hands were ice and the chair snow. Gradually he became aware of a faint tapping. He looked around to see where it was coming from and realized it was the front door.

Strange. Who on earth would be visiting in the middle of the night, on Christmas eve?

Cautiously he approached the heavy front door- an added piece of security courtesy of his daughter: “You can never be too careful these days.” But the tapping wasn’t urgent or aggressive- maybe it wasn’t even a person, but just a branch blowing in the wind which was howling eerily through the tree tops. “Going to be a blizzard”, Adam thought. Suddenly he had a vision of some homeless person being caught in the storm. “Coming!”

He tried to turn on the outside light but he was unable to flick the switch- he put that down to his frozen hands. He turned the doorknob but again his grip was too weak. “I can’t open the door, maybe you can turn the knob from outside. I don’t think it’s locked.” Mandy would kill him if she knew.

The door opened a fraction and as it did, a warm glow spilled into the hallway. Adam couldn’t understand where it was coming from, as he hadn’t been able to turn on the light. Yet as the door opened wider, the light intensified until it was too bright to bear. He shielded his eyes, but in the center of the doorway, he could perceive a dark shape.

“Don’t you recognize me Adam? I’ve come back.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. It was Susan’s voice, the musical, warm and loving voice he had known for over 40 years. He was speechless. His heart stopped- she had come back to him.

Susan stepped forward and took him gently by the hand. “I’ve missed you darling. I’m so sorry that I had to leave you, but now I’m back we can be together forever.”

Adam was still unable to make a sound. He gazed at her beautiful face and saw once again the beautiful girl he had fallen in love with.

“I want to take you with me.”

Gingerly, Adam stepped into the darkness with her. He felt no cold. Soft flurries of snow kissed their faces until they were completely enveloped in white. He looked back at the house and noticed they were not leaving any footprints in the fresh snow.

“Have I died?”

“Yes, Adam, you’ve died. You have to leave all of this behind. No time for tears or regrets- they are luxuries of the living. But we have all eternity together.”

Slowly, they walked on. In the neighboring houses, one by one, lights gradually appeared as excited children woke to see what Santa had brought and happy voices proclaimed “Merry Christmas”.