Once Upon a Christmas Eve

“I guess I’m sorry.”

“You guess?” Ryles Bennett shifted in his seat. “Okay. Okay. I don’t guess. I’m sorry.” Kit Barren looked at Ryles with a look of exasperation and let out a heavy sigh. “Whatever.” Ryles looked down at his phone. There were numerous messages from his fantasy football group chat. Didn’t score any points. Not in the playoffs…again. My grandma is bringing her roasted potatoes for Christmas dinner. Nobody will say anything but why does she put raisins on it? Ryles looked up. Kit was stirring a pot on the stove. “I think I burned it,” she said, letting out a big sigh. “I’m sure it’s fine.” Kit looked at Ryles with an unfamiliar look, a blank stare and turned the knob on the stove. “I’ll just let it simmer.” She left the kitchen then. Ryles looked out the window. Snow had begun to fall but not at a heavy pace. Just enough to twinkle in the early evening light. Kit’s family would arrive soon. A platter of sliced meats and crackers were already on the dining room table. Glass bowls of mixed nuts. Smaller glass bowls of mixed olives. A ham was resting in the oven. Macaroni and cheese. Mashed potatoes. Cooked corn. Gravy. It was Christmas Eve. Kit had been preparing for two nights. Everything had been homemade. Even the pies which included apples and cherry. Ryles did not think she had slept. Watching the snow fall, he could not remember the last time, he had just looked out the window. He was always preoccupied with work or fantasy football. He never stopped to enjoy the moment, he just shuffled from one thing to another. A knock came on the door. They were here.

              An hour later, Ryles was sandwiched between Kit’s uncle and her godfather. Uncle Liam was explaining why pepperoni was superior to salami with one of Kit’s other uncles, Bradley. Her godfather, Abraham, was working on a crossword puzzle, unbothered by the chatter around him. Kit’s Aunt Marsha was there. Her uncle Jeffrey. Her father, Simon. And family friends, Monty, and Isaac. Aunt Marsha was weaving in and out of the dining room, assisting everyone and setting the table for dinner. Ryles sipped his sparkling grape juice. For three years now, he had joined Kit and her family for Christmas Eve. Kit had been his next-door neighbor for four years. They lived on a quiet street, in the downtown part of their town. One story house with small, manicured lawns and one car garage. Their other neighbors were a retired teacher, a woman with three orange cats and a man who collected garden gnomes and worked at the post office. The other side of their street was a row of evergreen trees, often decorated with Christmas lights during this time of year. Their friendship had begun one day when Ryles’s dog had made his way into Kit’s small tomato garden. Although he was not eating the tomatoes, McGriff was napping in the summer sun and completely uncompromising at leaving. Kit had thought it was funny, which was a relief for Ryles. Ryles was kept to himself. His job as a comic book writer was one that complemented him well and when Kit asked about his family, he asked her how much time she had. His family put the dysfunction in dysfunctional. Kit’s family had been welcoming from the start. A cast of eccentric characters but a cast of welcoming individuals, nonetheless.

              “Ryles, pass the olives, will ya?” Jerked back to the present moment, Abraham was gesturing to the bowl of olives. “Do you know the best part about an olive?” Ryles shook his head. “Small but satisfying.” Abraham popped a green olive into his mouth and went back to his crossword puzzle. Aunt Marsha came bustling through the dining room and put the ham in the middle of the table. It was still sizzling from the oven. Within minutes, the table was set with all the dishes and Aunt Marsha sat at the other head of the table. Kit sat on her father’s side. “Per tradition in this family, we each add a piece to the family box, to be passed on through generations. Simon placed a brown box on the table. It was battered and worn, like a treasure chest. The story had it that Kit’s great grandfather had brought it over when he had arrived from Sicily. In a way of being thankful for new beginnings, Kit’s grandfather had started the tradition by adding a set of dominos to the box. Dominoes had been a game that brought comfort to his new surroundings. Simon opened the box and placed a stack of playing cards inside. He shrugged. “I’m tired of embarrassing your uncles.” Kit laughed. She placed a book inside. “Grandma’s recipes.” The box was passed down the table one by one. Each person placed something in. When it reached Ryles, he felt his stomach clench. “Uh…I may have forgotten about this tradition.” Everyone looked at him except Kit who diverted her eyes. This was why he had apologized to her earlier in the evening. He knew of the tradition but distracted by numerous things, it had slipped his mind until Kit had asked him about it. “Not good bro.” Isaac took a sip of water and said nothing more. “Ryles…we cannot continue until you place something in the box,” Liam stated. “You remember the year Bradley forgot? Pa made him take the money out of his wallet,” Monty said. “Yeah…had five hundred dollars in my pocket because I won a bet. It is like he knew…” Bradley responded, shaking his head. Silence fell over the table. “I actually don’t have any money in my wallet.” Marsha looked at Ryles. “Well…something must go in.” “Once upon a time…” Simon began. “Oh boy. Story time,” Isaac interrupted. Abraham gave Isaac a stern look and waved him off. “Isaac, chess after dinner.” Isaac took a big gulp of water. “Once upon a time…” Simon began again. “I was sixteen. Playing on the football team. All straight A’s. Had a girlfriend. Living the dream. Christmas Eve arrives, and the box comes out. I had gotten forgetful and did not have anything to put in. I’m sitting there, feeling all clammy inside. It gets to me, and I say I forgot. My father asks me why I forgot. I told him it was because I have been focusing on football all week. Trying to make sure I had all the right schemes on defense.” Simon laughed. “Truthfully, I had spent a lot of time with my girlfriend. Listening to vinyl’s, sledding, etc.” “It’s like he knew I was lying. He tells me that we do not have this tradition because of the things we put in. We have this tradition of starting a conversation. To share with each other. To have moments of storytelling. That’s how families survive. Storytelling.” Simon crossed his hands on the table. “He didn’t make me put anything in the box, but I was the last one to get pie that evening and I did the dishes while everyone got to throw the pigskin outside.” Simon stopped talking then. “You got to slow down and stay present in the moment is what he is saying,” Abraham broke the moment of silence. “I think chess is appropriate for you as well.” The family all laughed.

              “I’m sorry, Kit.” Kit was eating a slice of lemon cake in the kitchen. Her family, in the dining room, chattering amongst dessert. Kit looked at Ryles. “Why are you sorry?” Ryles looked down at McGriff, who was gnawing on a brand-new bone. “Because I never want to disappoint you.” Kit patted Ryles on his shoulder. “You did not disappoint me. Life distracts all of us. I was accosted by my grandmother the other day because she told me my Christmas cards should be handmade.” Kit frowned. “Never tell your grandmother, cards are too much work.” “What should I expect from the chess game?” Kit took another bite of cake. “A loss.” Abraham entered the kitchen. “Ryles, time is of the essence. Phone on the table.” Ryles looked at Kit, who was smirking. “Good luck.”