Dust Collectors

“You don’t get it, Fie. I don’t want anything.”

Shoppers pushed by. Oblivious to his surroundings, Owen stood between shelves stacked high with Christmas décor. Looking exasperated, Fiona pointed to their surroundings.

“Wake up!”

He mimicked her and ended with an exaggerated yawn.

“I have what I need.” He shook his head. “Look at this crap. Kitsch, kitsch, kitsch… Could have cornered the glitter market.”

Fiona held up a gnarly gnome leaning on a candy cane.

“Here, Owen. This is so cute! How can you resist?”

“No more dust collectors. Simplify! Don’t need shelves stacked with stuff…”

Fiona remained undaunted. “Fine. You don’t want to decorate. But you must want something. A nice gift. I want to…”

“I’ll get it on sale.”

Fiona rolled her eyes.

He leaned in. “You know this is a last chance ploy to boost the economy. Follow the money. Buy! Buy! Hurry! More! Spend! All this hap, hap, happiness is killing me. Cha-ching!”

Her turn to yawn, she’d heard it all before.

He continued. “You want the truth? Santa is just a greedy little Buddha in a fancy suit. Give him a top hat… you’d mistake him for Mr. Monopoly.”

Fiona’s look combined disappointment and pity for his stubbornness.

He said, “Don’t pull that face. Not fair. No one agrees? So what? Enjoy it. I speak for myself. Don’t expect converts.”

They walked out of the store.

Fiona tried another tack. “How ‘bout…”

“No. Nothing. Nada.”

“But…”

“You don’t get it. Not even a gift card.”

“Food?”

“To some restaurant I’ll never go to? I’ll eat where I like, thank you.”

“What is it, Owen? Why so adamant about a simple gift?”

“Must we do this every year?”

“But Christmas used to be fun.”

“Sheesh! How many ties can one man own?”

They didn’t talk much after that.

~

The next day, Fiona and her daughter, Lark, went shopping.

Lark asked, “What can I get Daddy?”

Fiona pursed her lips. “He wants you to make him something personal. Draw him a picture. Or write a poem…”

“What’s his problem? We’re supposed to exchange gifts. It’s Christmas!”

“I don’t know, honey. I think it goes back to something that happened between Stan and him…”

“Who?”

“His brother.”

“Wait… what? Daddy has a brother? Where is he? Why don’t know about my uncle? Do I have cousins? What happened?”

“They were kids. I don’t think they’ve seen each other in years… something about an electric fence.”

“I don’t get it. What would they…?”

“I can’t explain it, Lark. Guess it’s a ‘guy’ thing. Boys do crazy stuff.”

Lark mulled that vague explanation. ‘Electric fence… crazy boys…’ Her face lit up.

Then, “Ewww!”

“Enough, Lark. I don’t want to hear it.”

Fiona moved toward a sale rack.

Lark thought, ‘Guess I’m lucky to be alive…’ She smiled as she shook her head. She couldn’t imagine her rock solid (and stubborn) Daddy being a typically stupid kid.

~

The streets, jammed with traffic and bustling crowds, were ablaze with holiday lights. Spirits were high.

Driving to pick up Fiona and Lark, Owen remembered Christmas when he was a kid. Presents spilling from under the tree. He loved handing gifts out and watching his family open them.

Buying for his parents was always a snap. His mother collected Hummel figurines. His dad played golf.

His brother and he vied to top each other with the most ridiculous gifts. One year he gave Stan a rusty record turntable he found in a dumpster.

Stan gave him a framed paint-by-numbers painting. Worse than amateur, it depicted the most grotesque clown. Owen attributed his dread for clowns to that painting.

Stan and he combed thrift stores for the worst white elephants. Their gifts were famously bad. And cheap. The recipient on either side of the exchange could not help but laugh.

Their parents never understood their tradition. But it bonded Owen and Stan as little else did.

He wondered how to heal the distance between them. There’d been no dramatic split. But they rarely talk. And when they do, it’s strained. How can a rift grow between those who’d shared a lifetime?

And how can it not? By the time anyone notices, is it already too late to bridge?

~

Everyone slept in. Christmas Midnight Mass was magical.

The morning dawned with anticipation. Owen lit the fireplace. Bulging stockings hung from the mantel. The smell of baking cookies filled the house.

Happy that Fiona had listened to him, Owen’s anxiety passed. He saw no presents tagged for him.

Still in their pajamas, and holding cups of hot chocolate, Lark and Fiona gathered for the great unwrapping. Acting MC, Owen passed out gifts. He cherished the ritual.

Lark gave him a crayon drawing she’d done for him years ago, of the stick figure family standing before their lopsided house. In primitive lettering and scribbled with many colors, the caption read, ‘To Daddy.’

“Thank you, Lark.” He pointed at the last present. “This one has no tag.”

Fiona said, “Oh, that one’s yours.”

Owen glowered and she laughed.

He clapped his hands in mock excitement. “Goody! Is it a bowling ball?”

He picked it up. It weighed almost nothing. He shook it but got no sense of the contents.

“A balloon?”

“Open it, Daddy!” Lark and Fiona had conspired against him.

He ripped the paper off and popped the box open. After removing the tissue, he saw a note taped to the bottom. It read, ‘I hope you enjoy this. Merry Christmas!’

Fiona’s eyes glistened as she asked, “That’s what you wanted, right?”

He nodded. He got his request. But the empty box highlighted the void.

Fiona pulled a package from behind her. “Oh, this package came for you. I don’t know who from.”

She passed it to him and he examined it. It was heavy for its size. He recognized Stan’s address, from back east.

“Stan…”

Lark and Fiona clamored for him to open it.

‘Oh, well. Might as well see what he wants.’

He ripped the paper off. Seeing the object contained within, he stopped. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes.

“Daddy, what is it?”

He held the roundish, black object up.

“What is it? An animal? I can’t tell…”

“Coal. Gave it to Stan in high school.”

Not understanding, his wife and daughter shrugged at each other.

He unfolded the enclosed paper. He read aloud. ‘Bro, while clearing out some clutter, I remembered gifts from the past. Don’t know exactly why I hung on to this young diamond. Probably its perfection of heft and design. It deserves a loving home. Thought you’d like seeing it after all these years. Give me a call when you can. S.’

Owen set the lump of coal down and blew his nose.

“Coal dust always makes me sneeze…” He walked to the window. “It’s snowing.”

Fiona and Lark called out, “Merry Christmas!”

They came to Owen and embraced him. He kissed them both.

Fiona broke away and said, “I’ll put the table…”

“Let’s go for a walk in the snow, Daddy. You need to tell me about your long-lost brother.”

And so, they did.