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Here is a Christmas story featuring the inner life
of a boy, a life he hides from his parents behind
a brave face.
The dominoes are still under the sofa in the front
room. I’m going to get them on my birthday;
I heard papa say so. My sister and I did something
bad. We looked in the front parlor and saw our Christmas
gifts. Mama and Papa had said the room was too cold
for us to go in. But they went in. I wanted to see
what they were doing in there.
Tess cries. "She doesn’t want me to
know that there’s no Santa."
Oh, I wish you hadn't seen the gifts", Tess
says with tears in her eyes.
“Tess, there’s no chimney in our apartment.
I saw papa bring some bags in there before he took
off his coat. I saw Christmas paper and some bows
falling out of his bag. I was hiding under the stairs.
I saw.”
“That doesn’t mean there’s no
Santa Claus. Santa brings some of the toys to the
stores because there’s too many to carry the
night before Christmas”, Tess argues.
“He can’t go to every house. The reindeer
will get too tired. And besides, reindeer don’t
fly.”
“These are special reindeer,” Tess
explains.
“I don’t like it when big people make
up stupid stories. Besides, if we have to be good
to have toys, why do poor children not get any?
Are they bad? Mama said they were good. And why
does Papa give them toys from the store? I saw him
do it.”
“You always ask too many questions. You make
mama upset.”
“I don’t mean to get her upset. Anyway,
Santa Claus was in Newberry's and in Woolworth's
and even across the street in Grant’s. You
were with me. And you know he had a beard like the
white cotton Mama has in the bathroom, the cotton
wrapped in blue paper. It’s not like old Pepere
Carpy’s beard at Uncle Frank’s on the
farm. One of those Santa's had a pillow under his
red coat, I saw it.”
“Maybe you’re right. But wouldn’t
you like it if Santa Claus was real?”
“Yeah. Then I would get to have a dog of
my own. When I asked him for one he looked at mama,
and when she didn’t say anything, he said
I was too small to take care of a dog. He doesn’t
know anything. I take care of Major when I go the
farm.
I brush him and I give him his cookie. He doesn’t
know anything. He doesn’t know if I’m
bad or good. I don’t care about a stupid Santa.”
Tess takes a deep breath, ruffles my hair and walks
away.
"Will you still play dominoes with me on my
birthday, Tess?” I ask.
"Of course I will play dominoes with you on
your birthday."
I love Tess. She makes lunch for me and does housework.
She lets me dust and wipe the dishes. I miss her
during the day because she’s in first grade.
I try to be
quiet and good. I don’t sleep during naptime.
I feel scared. I stay awake and listen to hear mama
in her bedroom. I look at the clock a lot. I can
get up when the big hand is on three and go downstairs
to wait for Tess.
Aunt Annie is coming this afternoon. I heard Papa
tell mama she’s coming by car. Aunt Annie
doesn’t have a car.
Papa is away at work all the time. I hardly ever
get to see him. I wish he would stay home more.
He cried this morning when I sent Tess to ask him
to move his chair so I could open the closet and
get out my farm set. I don’t know why I was
afraid to ask him myself.
Mama stays in her bed a lot. Dr. Ricard came to
our house and when he came out of Mama’s room,
he told me to be good. I don’t know what I
did to make Mama sick. He said if I weren’t
good mama’s not gonna have a new baby. I don’t
know anything about a baby. Tess says she does.
Why does she get to know stuff before me?
Papa is making a big late breakfast like he does
every Sunday he is home and we go to church together.
He’s not going to work today. He keeps going
up and down the stairs. He wants us to wash and
get dressed before the company gets here. I don’t
like this. Something is wrong.
I’m not hungry. I only want a glass of milk.
Papa is in the parlor lighting the stove. That’s
where we’re going to sit for the visit. He
wants me to eat my egg and toast and bacon. He made
it the way I like it, all mixed up together and
juicy. I’m not hungry. Tess is always good.
She cleans her plate.
Yesterday, Mama told us to kneel on the floor next
to her bed. It was my job to ask Papa to bless the
family because it was New Year’s. Mama said
it was a tradition.
I don’t know what that means. Papa cried when
he blessed us. He looked like the priest at the
end of Mass. I don’t remember doing this before.
Why are they doing this? I’m scared.
Aunt Annie rings the doorbell and then walks right
in. I look out the door and see that it is snowing
outside. The man behind her is pushing her out of
his way. I don’t like him. He looks like a
scary cat. Papa shakes hands with him and calls
him M. Boulanger. He’s her friend. They take
off their boots and keep their coats on. They go
into the front parlor in a line and sit in the big
chairs. I think Aunt Annie is afraid somebody’s
going to steal the fox on her coat. It’s all
dry and dead. I don’t like looking at it.
M. Boulanger smokes a lot of cigarettes. He lights
the new one with the little one before it goes out.
Papa is still smoking the same one. He smokes slowly,
leaving it in the ashtray. I watch the stream of
smoke as it drifts up toward the ceiling, where
Mama is waiting alone upstairs.
"We can’t stay long", Aunt Annie
says. "There is a big snowstorm coming and
we must hurry."
I can hear mama upstairs banging things around
in Tess’s and my bedroom. It sounds like she
is opening and closing drawers and closets. I want
to go see what she’s doing; but it’s
impolite to leave the room when someone is visiting,
even when it’s boring.
Aunt Annie starts to talk in ways that make me
listen. I hear her say, “Your mother is very
sick. She has to go to the hospital for a long time."
She looks at me over her glasses. She can’t
see through them because they are full of steam.
I feel pinned to the back of the sofa by her words.
“You are going to go live on the farm with
your aunt Celeste and uncle Frank.”
Papa wants to talk but she puts her fat fingers
in front of his face.
“Celeste and me, we decided”, she says
out loud.
Papa shrinks back in his chair. His cigarette burns
alone in the ashtray like incense at High Mass.
There is silence in the parlor and the whole house
becomes quiet. I sit on the blue velvet sofa. The
air feels cold just like the day Tess and me came
in here to look for Christmas gifts. I turn toward
Tess who stares at Papa, waiting for him to say
something. I am glad that Tess is sitting next to
me.
Papa says nothing. He swallows and bites his lip.
“Your sister will be a boarder at the convent
school two miles away from the farm”, Aunt
Annie declares as if this reassures me. “You
can visit her every Sunday afternoon.”
“Tess, your cousin Rosalyn will see you every
day because she goes to high school there”,
continues Aunt Annie.
Aunt Annie is speaking in a loud voice. Her glasses
are no longer foggy. Her eyes are wide open and
she wrinkles her forehead. She has so much to say.
Every time she opens her mouth, she says one more
bad thing.
I think to myself what I have just heard. "My
sister won’t be living with me."
I swallow hard. Tess takes my hand and I hold on
tight. She tells me I can have the blue suitcase.
Hers was packed yesterday and is under mama and
papa’s bed. When she turns to look at me,
one of her brown curls brushes my face. It feels
like an angel’s wing. I try not to cry. I
swallow hard.
Papa crushes his cigarette in the fancy ashtray
from Old Orchard Beach. He gets up and takes me
by the other hand. “Let’s go upstairs
and say goodbye to your mother.”
The hallway is dark and I can’t feel my feet
on the stairs. Papa goes in without knocking. Mama
is in her white wicker chair. I don’t like
that chair. It’s too hard and it has some
splinters on the side. And besides, whenever Mama
sits in it she is sick.
“Be good and be polite. I will be back when
there is no more snow. I will bring you a new baby
brother or sister.”
I wait for more words but that is all my mother
says. She hugs her afghan. I want her to hug me.
"Give your mother a kiss", Papa says.
I kiss her on the cheek. She kisses me but I cannot
feel the kiss.
Tess reaches for me, squeezes my hand and walks
me out of the room. I look back at my mother, who
seems lost in her afghan.
Tess takes me to my suitcase. Mama packed it. Papa
picks up both of our suitcases. The three of us
walk down the stairs together. Aunt Annie and the
man have their boots on and are standing by the
door. I hear them whisper that Mama wasn’t
supposed to have another baby.
"We have to get ready. Aunt Celeste and Uncle
Frank are expecting you for dinner. You will ride
in M. Boulanger’s big new car. All the things
you will need, even your brand new toys, are in
your suitcase,” says Papa.
The man opens the outside door and I can see snow
blowing on the porch.
“Hurry”, says Aunt Annie.
She pushes me to the coat rack. She grabs my snowsuit
and pushes one arm into the sleeve. I don't want
her to help me. I want to do it by myself.
"We will stop at the convent first to leave
the girl. That will save time", the man says
to Papa.
Everything feels like a hurry and I want it to
slow down. I want to ask more questions and talk
to my Papa. I want to ask him if I can have the
Dominoes and when will I be coming back? I don't
say anything; I just go along and get into the big
back seat of that man's car. Papa helps us in and
hugs Tess and me in one big hug. He puts the suitcases
on the floor under our feet and stands in the snow
without a coat to wave goodbye.
I want to yell, “Papa, put your coat on,
don't get sick like Mama. Don't do this Papa, you
are scaring me.” But no words come out.
In the back seat, Tess hugs me tight. The car rolls
down the street and I can't see Papa any more. I
can’t see our house. I can’t see our
street. I don’t look out anymore.
At the convent, the man takes Tess' suitcase out
of the back seat. Tess hugs me tight. I don't want
to let go of her. The man pulls us apart. I watch
her climb the steps to an old brick building. I
press my face to the cold glass of the car. I steam
up the window until I can’t see her anymore.
Tears burn my cheeks, even when I try to hold them
in.
I stare at the back of the grownups’ heads
as we drive to the farm. I feel safe crying into
the sleeves of my snowsuit in the dark. I don’t
want them to know. I hate them.
That night, in the small metal bed in the unheated
upstairs, I pull the scratchy woolen blankets up
to my eyes. I don’t want my big cousin Gilles
or the old workman to hear me cry.
“Please don’t let me wet the bed. Please
help me be good. Please help me not to cry. Please
wake me up before I pee. Please. Please wake me
up. I’m so tired. Good night”, I pray
to my Guardian Angel through the blankets.
I think of my sister, in that big building far
away and I miss her. I hope she’s not crying.
I like the warm smooth stone wrapped in a towel
at the foot of my bed. My Aunt Celeste put the stone
there. She said, “It’s to take the chill
out of the muslin sheets.” I don’t know
what that is. There is no electricity for light
and I try to remember how to find the chamber pot.
From my bed I look through the one window for the
moonlight. Tonight, a thick blanket of snow covers
the moon. I fall asleep alone in the dark.
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