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It Happened One Christmas Chapter Nineteen (Part 1)
By: Jack Date: December 23, 2019, 5:06 pm
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Charlie didn’t say anything more. He pulled out his flask again
and offered me a drink. The mulled cider was still warm and
went down nicely. He took a drink himself and put it back
inside his jacket.
I don’t know why, but I was really thinking about what he’d
said. Maybe because it seemed so important to him, or maybe
just because my toes were starting to get chilly, even through
my wool socks and boots, and I wanted something else to think
about.
I barely noticed when Charlie started walking, though I did
follow him.
It was obvious that spankings weren’t always fair. Okay, maybe
they were hard on more than just the kid getting them. I never
really thought that Dad or Uncle Hank liked whupping us, and not
even Kevin’s dad - even though the whipping he’d given Kevin was
really hard - or David’s dad - even though David must have been
really embarrassed to have to be naked to pick a switch like
that - had seemed to feel good about it, but like it was
something they needed to do.
I argued back and forth with myself. I know I’d been wrong to
steal anything, but did that make it right for me to snitch on
David? Did I help him by not letting him get away? Did his dad
really change how he might have acted in the future? And even
if it did, did that make it fair or good?
I had to admit that Charlie had been right about one thing - I
didn’t know everything. But there was still something else, and
I finally stopped and asked it aloud.
“Even if adults don’t like whuppings, even if they are fair a
lot of times, does that make it okay to use them when they can’t
know they’re always fair?”
We walked on a bit further. It took me a moment to realize
Charlie had stopped. I turned around to look a question at him,
and nearly jumped out of my skin.
Charlie stood with a street light behind him. He’d pulled the
hood on his coat forward, so it cast his face in a deep shadow.
The wind was suddenly blowing towards me, and my eyes watered as
the snow rushed into my face. The wind whipped the bottom of
his coat around his legs, surprising me, since I hadn’t realized
it was that long. Then he raised his hand. The light hit it at
an angle, making his finger seem almost skeletal as he pointed
behind me. The water in my eyes made lights seem to flash from
his face, as if his eyes were aglow, and I quickly turned away
to find at what he was pointing.
The wind gusted again and the snow seemed to form a long tunnel
down which we rushed. My legs wobbled, and I nearly lost my
balance. After a long moment of disorientation, we approached a
very nice house - not huge, but well decorated. A pair of
Leyland Cypress trees grew in the front yard, and both of them
were lighted like the Christmas trees they were often used as.
The house glowed with Christmas lights as well. The door was
surrounded by lighted garland and mounted a lighted wreath.
Even the door mat had a red and green ‘Merry Christmas’
surrounded by boughs of holly.
We slipped past the door and into the house. The front hall was
dim, but it only made the living room at the end more inviting.
The living room was filled with a warm light and a scent of
pine. A fire was crackling in the hearth, and the mantle glowed
with candles reflecting of evergreen decorations and small
Christmas trees. The actual tree was decorated as brightly, but
more ornately, as the ones in the front yard.
The tree and fireplace seemed to dominate the room, but there
was still plenty of room for a rather elegant sitting group - a
sofa, love seat, two easy chairs, two end tables, and a coffee
table. Reclining sideways on the couch, wearing obviously
well-broken in (and probably very comfortable) sweats, was a
woman with long, thick honey-colored hair, reading a book.
In front of the fireplace lay a blond furred Afghan hound with a
light brown face that gave her an interesting look. I thought
she was napping, but she looked up at a motion. I turned to see
a man walk into the room.
The man was wearing a pair of traditional men’s pajamas in a
black and red plaid, with a pair of black slippers. They looked
almost like topsiders, but I could see the grey fur around his
ankles. The dog stood up, stretched, then padded over for an
ear scratching. The man obliged.
As I watched him, I realized that he looked a lot like my dad,
except he was a bit shorter, and his hair was brown and shaggier
than Dad’s ever was. I couldn’t figure out who he was, though -
certainly not Uncle Hank and too old for Harry. Could it be
some cousin of Dad’s I hadn’t met?
I pondered the mystery as the man gave the dogs ears a good
scratching. He stopped. The dog waited a moment, then sighed
and moved back to the fireplace.
“Thanks, honey. I definitely needed that,” he said as he leaned
down to kiss her.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you did manual labor,” she
replied, putting the book on the end table next to her elbow.
“No, but between my time at the job, and the two way commute,
it’s nice to get out of that monkey suit and wash off the
office,” he replied, kissing her lightly
“I should have never let you get that deluxe shower, with the
rain setting and the massage setting. I’m almost positive you
love it more than you do me,” she said, pretending a pout.
“Maybe in the bathroom, but you’ve got it all beat in the
bedroom, baby.”
“Beast,” she replied, giving him a playful slap on the cheek -
really not more than a tap, and obviously a game they’d played
before.
Bailey blushed, watching the two adults who thought they were
alone playing their intimate game.
The two broke from a long, much deeper kiss. The woman sighed.
“Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes. I deliberately
started it late.”
The man was quiet, but his eyebrows went up.
“You need to have a talk with Charles.”
The man looked a bit shocked, but just nodded.
“And you’re not going to warn me about what?”
“Let him tell you.”
The man stood up, pausing to adjust his pajamas, which showed he
was obviously happy from that kiss. The woman stood herself,
and the man turned back towards the hall from where he’d come.
Without seeming to move, we followed him down the hall. He
wasn’t especially muscular, but he moved easily, and I had the
feeling he was in good shape, despite looking somewhat lean.
The hall made a ‘T’. Down one way, I could see it opened into
what was obviously a master bedroom. He turned the other way,
which led towards two doors. One was a bathroom. The other
door was closed. The man tapped on that door.
“Come in,” a young voice said - it wasn’t light and childish,
but still seemed a bit unsettled. It was definitely tentative.
The door opened and we took its invitation to find a boy who
looked about my height, so maybe a medium-sized freshman, a tall
middle school kid, or a very short sophomore. He was lean and
had his mom’s thick, golden-red hair, though cut much shorter
than she wore hers.
I realized I had no idea what time of day it was, or even what
day of the week. It was dark outside and obviously at least
early evening, since the man was apparently home from work. I
had to wonder about it, though, since the boy - Charles? - was
sitting at his desk, but obviously wearing flannel lounge pants
and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Unlike his dad’s rather quiet
pajamas, his wear was definitely Christmas themed. The pants
were green, decorated with repeated pictures of Santa hats,
while the t-shirt was red, with white around the hems. I was
half surprised he wasn’t wearing a stocking cap himself.
“How’s your day, Charles?”
The young man turned half away from his desk, so he was facing
his dad. As he turned, it became obvious he was working some
type of a wooden puzzle.
“Okay. I was trying to figure out this puzzle Aunt Carrie gave
me.”
“She always was good at picking gifts. Any luck yet?”
He gestured behind him.
“Not a lot.”
It was quiet after that, as if neither knew what came next.
Finally the man spoke.
“Your mom said you needed to talk to me?”
The boy nodded sadly, but still didn’t speak for a moment.
“You know that big ball ornament Mom couldn’t find last week,
when we finished decorating?”
“You mean the red one? The huge, lit one that doesn’t go on the
tree? The one we spent like an hour looking for? Yeah, I have
a passing familiarity with it. Why?”
“I stole it.”
The boys said it so plainly that I didn’t even realize what he’d
said for a moment. Considering how long his father waited to
respond, I wonder if he felt the same.
“Why would you do that, Charles?”
The patient way he said it nearly broke my heart. He didn’t
yell at the boy. He didn’t accuse him. He just asked.
Given the way he cringed, I half think Charles would have
prefered if his dad had yelled.
“You know how proud I was that I finished all my shopping early
this year, and that I paid for everything with my own money?”
His dad nodded.
“Well, I thought I had a really nice gift for Jonathon, but he
surprised me… I showed you the ring he got me.”
The man nodded and glanced at his son’s neck. I saw a glint of
silver and realized he was wearing a ring on a chain.
“Jonathon and I had been just fooling around at the mall one day
the week of Thanksgiving - not even really a date, just hanging
out, and we’d seen this…”
This time the boy gestured at his own neck.
“I was shocked when he gave it to me. I didn’t think he’d spend
that much.”
“You know how much it was?”
The boy nodded.
“I’d noticed it in the store. I’d even thought about getting it
for him, but sixty dollars was way over my limit.”
The boy was silent a moment, apparently gathering his thoughts
again. Before he could, Dad spoke.
“That engraved bookmark you got him was very nice, Charles. And
a great choice for a reader.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t even twenty dollars, Dad. I felt cheap.”
“How many times have you heard ‘it’s the thought that counts’,
son? This is exactly why - finding something someone will
really use and enjoy is more important than how much you spend.”
The boy shrugged.
“So what happened?”
The boy was fidgeting a bit and hadn’t looked at his dad much.
Now he forced his hands to his side and looked right at his dad.
“I told him I’d planned to give him his gift at the party. I
came home and checked, but I just didn’t have any more money,
and I couldn’t think of anything better to give him. Then…. You
know I told you how much he loves Christmas?”
The man nodded.
“I remembered how cool those big bulbs are, and I thought about
how he has Christmas decorations on the bookcase in his bedroom,
and so I picked the red one, wrapped it, and gave it to him. I
told him it was so he could think of me at the holidays.”
They were both silent for a moment.
“I didn’t know it cost seventy dollars, Dad.”
“I’m not that worried about the money, Charles. H‍ell, I
would have given you money to buy something nicer if you’d just
asked. My..”
“But you were so proud of me getting it all with my own money
and doing a budget and everything,” the boy protested,
interrupting his dad.
“I was happy for you, because you were proud of yourself,
Charles. But those ornaments were a gift to your mother and me
from her mother the first year we were married.”
“I know that - now. But I didn’t then.”
The man sighed, and they were both quiet for a long moment.
“Why did you tell me about this anyway, Charles?”
“Because Mom was so upset when she couldn’t find it, and because
I felt so bad after I found out Grandma had given them to you…
And because I know I did wrong, and there’s gotta be
consequences.”
I winced to hear the boy admit that, and quickly looked at the
man.
“Charles, you were wrong to take it without asking, but you’re
part of the family - it was yours as much as ours.”
“No, it was a gift to you and Mom,” Charles protested. “And
even if it was part mine, it was still wrong for me to just take
it without asking y’all. I knew then that I shouldn’t do it, I
just…”
He was quiet for a long moment. I kept expecting the man to say
something, but he waited patiently.
“I just wanted you to be proud of me. I didn’t want you to know
I’d messed up, but then I just messed up worse.”
“I am always proud of you, Charles. But fine, you need a
consequence…. It’s almost Christmas, and I know you have a lot
going on, but… If we ground you tomorrow and two days after
Christmas, you’ll have to miss seeing Skywalker with your
friends, but…”
“Da-a-ad,” the boy protested.
“What?”
“It’s not really grounding if you pick and choose the days so
they’re not inconvenient.”
“I know you’re unhappy with yourself, Charles, but you just made
a bad decision, and you already regret it. I’m not going to
ruin your Christmas vacation because of that.”
“Dad, I was selfish and irresponsible and immature. You can’t
just let me off.”
The two of them stared at each other a long, quiet moment that
quivered with tension. It was the man who finally dropped his
gaze.
“You know what that means, then?”
The boy’s chin quivered, but he nodded.
“Let’s get it over with, then.”
The boy stood up from the chair and walked over towards his
dresser. His father passed him going the other way. He pulled
the chair from the desk and turned it to face into the room.
At his dresser, the boy pulled his tee over his head, and
dropped it on the dresser then picked up the hairbrush that lay
atop it. He turned and walked around his bed, back to his dad.
The man had already sat down. As the boy walked back to him, he
lifted his arm and took the brush from the boy, tucking its
handle beneath his right leg.
(Continued in Part 2)
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