Christmas Without You
by Rob Warr
Chapter 1
Warning: This story deals with the very sensitive subject of the death of a parent. It is a story of sadness, but of hope and love also. If you find you don't want to shed any tears this Christmas Holiday you might want to skip this story.
Christmas, the most joyous time of the year, and though it may be the most festive of all Holidays, it's easy to forget that tragedy never takes a holiday.
It was 1995, and I was 10 then, a pup of a boy with blond hair, blue eyes, and a few freckles across my small nose that I hated, but my mom said they made me even cuter than I was, so who was I to argue? It was me, Thomas (Tommy), my brother Samuel (Sammy,) age 13), Linda,15, and our mom and dad, Henry and Gladys Yates.
We were a happy family, very close as far as families go, and even us siblings got along well. In fact, my brother and I were more like best friends than brothers, and we seldom fought and always made up quickly. His being older of course he had his friends and I had mine, but when it was just us two around we always found something to do together. Sometimes he'd even let me hang out with him and his friends, and his friends soon became my friends.
The same was true of my friends. Sammy was a big brother to all of them and even watched out for them when older kids started picking on them. My friends all envied me because the ones who did have older brothers said their relationships were nothing like ours.
As for my sis, Linda, she was cool, but at 15 she'd discovered boys and even had a steady boyfriend, Josh, who was 6 months older than her. He was all right, but not as friendly as most of my brother's friends and we really didn't see that much of him anyway. When he and Linda were together they were either in her room listening to music or at the movies or the mall or some other place that teens liked to gather.
Mom and dad liked Josh, but I don't think they liked the idea of them being alone in her room so they insisted that the door be kept open at all times. On the rare occasion that I happened to walk by her room they were never doing anything sexy, but who knew what they did when the coast was clear? I don't mean sex exactly, but surely they kissed, and that kind of stuff. Which at 10 I thought was yucky.
Dad was an engineer, no not the kind that runs a train, the kind that designs things and tests them out. He worked for a large company based in our town and made very good money, but as my mom said, it was fitting considering how much his education had cost his parents.
Mom stayed at home, which was a rare thing back then. Women had been out in the workforce for years, supplementing the family income, but fortunately our mom could concentrate on taking care of us and the house without the need to work a 9-5 job.
Our mom was awesome at it, too. She had her own car and drove us kids wherever we needed to be, and trust me, that's not easy with three kids pulling you in three directions. Sammy played football and basketball and Linda was on the pep squad and on the yearbook committee, so the two of them were always in need of a ride. At ten, I didn't play any organized sports, but I was looking forward to next year because I had signed up for a little league team, and practice would begin in February, weather permitting.
My dad was awesome too, and he wasn't like a lot of those successful dads who spent all their time at work. He worked regular hours (7-4) during the week, and had weekends off. So we saw plenty of him, and as a family we spent a lot of time together. Each year we went on a two week vacation to some new and exciting place, and that year we'd finally made it to Disneyland. That had to be the most wonderful place I'd ever been, and even Linda had to admit that she felt like a little kid again just being there.
Dad was handsome, too, and pretty athletic. He didn't exactly work out, but he stayed fit and healthy by being active and eating right. Mom did too, and for a woman her age she was very attractive. Even some of my friends thought she was 'hot' till I put them straight by telling them that was 'my mom' they were talking about.
We lived in a two story brick and siding home on Mulberry Drive, with mature trees in the backyard and a hedge separating us from the neighbors on both sides. We didn't have a pool, but there was a community pool nearby, and in the summer it was full of kids we knew from the neighborhood and surrounding area. I had my own room, as did my brother and sister, on the second floor, and my folks bedroom was downstairs, and naturally they had their own bath. They'd had the house built that way when Linda was born, planning on three to five kids and figuring they'd worry about the logistics of sleeping more than three when, and if the time came. As it turned out, three was the optimal number, and after giving birth to me, mom had her tubes tied. Not because she didn't want more kids, but because the doctor urged her to do so after the complications she'd faced having little old me. I felt bad for messing up her chance to have other kids, but three was pretty good, and anyway it was years later that I even discovered this, and we were a happy well-adjusted family by then.
Life was good.
I mentioned my friends earlier, and there were quite a few of them. One good thing about me was I made friends easily and kept them. I was loyal to my friends, and if they started to slip away I'd swoop back in and reaffirm our friendship again. But despite having a lot of friends, I only had one best friend, Eric, who I'd known since kindergarten.
Eric was black, but even though we sometimes got strange looks when we were seen together, to me he was just Eric, my best friend, and the color of his skin was of no importance to me. He was small for his age, slender, but not skinny, wiry though, and strong for a kid his size. He had long curly hair that his mom sometimes braided for him and once he even came to school with an Afro, which I thought was the neatest thing I'd ever seen.
He was cute, with a pixy nose, big brown eyes and a smile for everyone, even those who looked down on anyone who wasn't lily white and one of 'them'. I don't know what it was that attracted me to him that first day of kindergarten, but there he was, this little black boy crying softly because he was scared and lonely, and despite having some abandonment issues of my own, I took it upon myself to be his comforter. And after that day, kindergarten became fun, and as the days passed we became closer and closer till I felt as if I'd found a long lost brother, no pun intended.
My folks were thrilled that I'd found a new friend so quickly, and when they finally met Eric and his mom one afternoon at a parent-student get together, their eyes lit up and I could see their pride as they realized their son didn't see color.
Eric's mom, Juanita, was a chubby, jolly, young woman who was raising Eric without a husband with the help of her parents. The four shared a nice house near the school, her father a retired electrician and her mother a retired teacher.
Eric's family and my family became close after that, and soon it was like we were one big happy family. I loved Eric's pawpaw, as he called him, and his meemaw was always baking something delicious when I came to visit.
The sleepovers began when we started first grade and had become more frequent as we grew older. In the summer we'd often camp out in one or the other's backyard, sometimes inviting another friend or two to join us.
I'm not bragging, but I think Eric made a lot of new friends he wouldn't have otherwise just because he was my friend, because as I said, I was loyal to my friends, and in return they respected my opinion when it came to making new friends.
So, that's the way it was that December in 1995. Life was good, and we were all looking forward to Christmas and not just for the presents. Our families loved the holidays, the tinsel, the lights, the fragrant pine trees festively decorated, and most of all: the holiday spirit that almost every person donned that time of year. Like a festive coat, the feelings of good cheer covered most folks, even the grumpiest of them, and if for only 1 month, that feeling made it a little easier to bear the other 11 months.
Our house, as was most of those on our street, was festooned with brilliant, colorful lights, garland, lawn ornaments, and even a rooftop Santa and sleigh. Inside, a seven foot live tree sat in front of a bow window surrounded by dozens of brightly wrapped packages. We were all too old to believe in Santa, so instead of waiting till Christmas Eve to place the presents beneath the tree, now they appeared as soon as they were purchased and wrapped.
Live evergreen garland draped the banisters, with red ribbons every few feet, and a string of lights arched along as well to add color to the scene. Lights lined the perimeter of the living room and dining room, and garland and lights outlined the arched entrance to the dining room.
We loved Christmas, and even in the bathroom downstairs there was a little bit of Christmas with colorful hand towels with Santa and snowmen printed on them, as well as a snowman shaped soap dispenser. A red rug with white snowflakes lay in front of the tub, and jingle bells on the doorknob alerted us each time someone used the bathroom.
Even upstairs there was garland and jingle bells, and I even had a miniature tree in my room. It was about a foot high, flocked as if speckled in snow, and had tiny ornaments and garland around it. It didn't have lights, but sitting beneath my desk lamp the ornaments reflected the light, giving the appearance that it did.
I'd saved some birthday money and some of my allowance and gone shopping with mom that Saturday to pick out gifts for everyone, including Eric. I couldn't afford to get gifts for all my friends, but best friends were different, and I knew he felt the same way. After all, we'd been exchanging gifts at Christmas since we were 7.
Eric too was going out for baseball in the spring, and I knew for a fact that he did not have a decent glove as of yet, so...that was my gift for him. They were a bit more expensive than I'd planned, but mom said she'd pay half because she knew I wanted Eric to have that glove, and that all of us would enjoy it when he made the winning catch. Mom, what can I say? She was the best.
Packages wrapped and beneath the tree, I retired to my room to finish some homework I'd been putting off and listening to Christmas music on my clock radio. Linda was off somewhere with Josh, and Sammy was with his friends, probably at the arcade or the skateboard park. Dad was visiting a friend, and mom was downstairs doing, well, whatever moms do, and it seemed eerily quiet upstairs.
Even the music couldn't cure my case of jitters and I finally got up and went downstairs, seeking out the only person in the house to help comfort me.
"Hello, honey," she said sipping a dark liquid from a long stemmed goblet.
"Hi mom, can I have a sip?" I teased, surprised when she offered the glass to me.
I took a sip and smiled, "It's grape juice. You fooled me."
"I only drink wine on special occasions, but grape juice is good anytime."
"What's for dinner?" I said, stalling.
"I haven't decided yet. Any suggestions?"
"Pizza?" I said hopefully.
"Well, that's not a bad idea. I wouldn't have to cook," she chuckled, "I can call dad and have him swing by Mazzios on his way home."
"Cool, will Sammy and Linda be home by then?"
"They better be," she said frowning.
I laughed, "That's a mean look, mom."
She smiled then, "They know the rules, and they've yet to break them. You're all good kids."
"That's cause we have a great mom...and a great dad."
"Yes, your dad is something special, that's for sure."
Suddenly, the phone rang and my life changed forever.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
