I Won't Be Home For Christmas

CW: This story contains themes of physical violence and suicide.

Life can be messy. Complicated. Difficult. Sometimes you can just lose yourself in all of it, and in the process, you can lose sight of the things that actually matter. And then one day a storm comes out of the clear blue sky and you get blown overboard by the tempest, and all is lost in the blink of an eye.

This is what happened to me. I just got caught up in all of the things that don’t really matter. Money. Career status. An address in the right part of town and elite private schools for the kids and new luxury import autos and Swiss-made wristwatches with tasteful (but recognizable) brand logos. Material things.

Then came a day when I realized how unimportant it all was, but it was too late.

Still, at first I tried to keep up the pretense of normality in the face of immeasurable loss. I had already bought the 12-foot Douglas Fir Christmas tree and put up the holiday decorations all around the house. Family was flying in from three different states to visit for the holiday. I had arranged car service from the airport for everyone, a catered gourmet dinner for Christmas Eve, nice gifts for all and I even took the time to memorize a heart-warming toast to the whole family before we sat down to eat. (In the end I had to just junk this because of the references to my wife and children. More than that, really. It just didn't work at all anymore.)

What was I supposed to do? I felt some strange obligation to appear unphased. Composed. In control of my emotions and my world. I don’t know. That has always been my way, or at least the image I have always wanted to project. It’s hard to say how much of it was ever truly real and how much I just manufactured, for whatever reason, and it doesn’t matter any longer anyway.

It all happened on the evening of December 23rd, and everyone was flying in the next day. I was just numb afterwards and didn’t have the time or motivation for all the phone calls before those flights took off in the morning, so I was left with no choice but to inform everyone of what happened when they arrived at our house that day. My house. Once they were all there and I had dodged the uncomfortable questions for as long as I possibly could, I gave a very different (and mostly improvised) speech from the one I had originally planned. Somehow, I made it to the end with dry eyes, though no one else did. I cried enough the previous night at the hospital. I wasn’t sad anymore. I was just angry now. 

“Well folks, it seems that everyone has had a chance to grab a beverage, and although we are not fully gathered together as a family right now, I would like to proceed with some very unfortunate news that I have to share at this time. Not exactly a toast. Nothing like a toast actually. The opposite of a toast. Just some words I have to say.”

I took a deep breath and a long, slow sip of my Macallan Scotch. I felt all the eyes on me, and I thought about what I should say, what I could say. I hadn’t planned this out. I tried. I just couldn’t.

“I want to thank you all for coming this far to spend the Christmas holiday with us, but I am afraid that ‘us’ is just me now. Yesterday evening, around 6:30pm, Melanie and the kids were driving home from the mall down the road when they were t-boned at the intersection of Torrance and Sepulveda by a 25-year old off-duty Sheriff’s deputy named Kyle Langtree who ran a red light. All three of them were killed but the Sheriff’s deputy, driving a large SUV, only sustained a concussion and some minor injuries. He is still in Saint Mary’s right now but expected to be released within a day or two.”

I paused and drained off the rest of my Scotch. Everyone stared at me, their faces fixed in various expressions of shock and horror and disbelief, the tears already starting to fall. Hands were raised to cover mouths. I took another deep breath and continued, not even knowing what to say next, only knowing that I had to say something. I kind of muttered the next part down towards my shoes.

“The local news channels are all reporting that this Sheriff’s deputy had just left a holiday party at a bar down the street and the LAPD officer who was first on the scene breathalyzed this guy and he apparently blew a 1.8 BAC, more than twice the legal level for DUI. When the LAPD cop radioed this in he was advised that this Sheriff’s deputy was the younger brother of both the local DA and the US Congressman representing this district. This was picked up over the police scanners used by several local news outlets. Instead of being taken to jail he was taken to Saint Mary’s, like I said. Apparently, he also had two prior DUIs that were both dismissed for no apparent reason. You can read about it all here in today's paper if you want. Front page.” I dropped a copy of the local newspaper on the table.

I paused again. I didn’t know what else to say. My older brother Jamie came up and gave me a powerful hug and whispered some kind words in my ear and cried some tears onto my neck and collar. My Aunt Jane approached me but then stopped, not knowing what to do. I didn’t blame her. I didn’t either, but I did my best.

“You are all my dearest friends and family and I thank you all so much for coming to be here. I am just so sorry that it has come under these terrible circumstances.” I set my empty glass on a coaster on the table. Somehow it was still important for me to appear unrattled. Composed. The coaster was somehow still important.

“We all have to do what we all have to do for the love of our family, and you have all shown and proven that by being here right now. I love you all dearly and I am so sorry to have to share this terrible news with you at this time.” I pretended to get choked up, then I lowered my head and excused myself and went to my bedroom to get what I needed as my family broke out in open gasps and cries and barely restrained sobs and sorrows in the living room. I quietly slipped out the side door and drove my Mercedes AMG GT to Saint Mary's hospital.

I parked it in a handicapped spot when I got there. I wouldn’t be needing it any longer. I decided to leave it to my nephew Nicholas once I had a chance to meet with my lawyer. He was a good kid who just graduated from Penn State and I knew he loved that car. He deserved it. I decided to set him up with some cash too, just to help him get started. You never know what life has in store for you. I certainly didn’t.

And that’s how I ended up here, sitting in this small cell in the LA County Jail, spending Christmas Day all by myself, eating a bologna sandwich for dinner, or trying to anyway. I don’t have much appetite. This is the first time in my entire life that I have spent Christmas alone. I will be on suicide watch for the next 48 hours, and after that the wheels and gears of the legal system will make their slow and inevitable turns and I will end up in Pelican Bay or San Quentin or someplace like that for the rest of my life. Murder One, Assault with a Deadly Weapon, Menacing, Illegal Parking in a Designated Handicap Space (ha ha). They have me. They have me dead to rights. They have me on video for all of it.

I don’t care. It was unfortunate that I had to put down that security guard who tried to stop me from reaching Deputy Langtree's hospital room though. I shot low, in the center of his thigh. Hopefully he will be okay. Hopefully I missed the femoral artery. I tried my best but it all happened pretty fast and I'm no marksman. It could have been worse, I guess. At least he was already in a Level-1 trauma unit.

Young guy. I feel bad about that part. They won't tell me anything about how he's doing or if he has a wife and kids or anything like that. I hope he's okay. I will leave some money for him too once I meet with my lawyer and update my last will and testament, for whatever that might be worth. I don't know what else I can do. I just feel really bad about it. I never wanted to hurt anyone else.

Anyway, they can't keep me on suicide watch forever. And like I said, we all have to do what we all have to do for the love of our family. 

I did what I had to do for the love of my family. I have no regrets.

Anyone want the rest of this bologna sandwich? I'm not hungry.

Merry Christmas. I think this one will probably be my last, but I hope you enjoy many more, engulfed in the warmth and love of all your family and friends.

I just need to find a rope.

THE END