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Chapter Twenty-Four / 2013


Nick

"I think you've officially gone insane," Brian said.

I stared down the ladder at him and wiggled my fingers. "Maybe," I replied, "But either way, hand me that stapler."

Brian glanced at the door of the next apartment over. "You don't think we should wait for morning at least?" he asked.

"If we wait, they'll be home, and it won't be a surprise, will it?"

He held up the stapler.

I'd driven to the 24-hour Walmart and spent the next several hours pawing through the Christmas section until I'd managed to spend over a hundred dollars on lights, a wreath, and decorations... and the stuff I needed to put them up before Matty and Abbey got home.

I took the stapler, and the ladder wobbled. Brian grabbed on to steady it. "Will you please be careful?" he begged, "I don't feel like explaining this to the EMTs when we have to call an ambulance to get your skull put back together."

"I'm okay," I said, "I ain't gonna fall." The ladder wobbled again and I grabbed onto the railing of the balcony over Abbey's before I could slip. "Just... hold this thing steady," I added, and I turned to the building, holding the lights along the bottom of the balcony edge and started stapling. I leaned and Brian prayed quietly below me, watching as I worked.

"Why are you doing this again?" he asked as I turned what was actually a fall into a graceful leap from the ladder to the ground. "Why aren't you waiting until daylight when it isn't like ten degrees out and you can see what you're doing up there?"

I stepped back from the balcony to look at my handiwork. It was a little crooked, but once the lights were lit, surely it wouldn't be that obvious... "Because, it's gotta be a surprise. I don't know how early they'll discharge him, and I want them up before they get home." I said, "Christmas is a time to hope and to start fresh and all that Charles Dickens kind of crap. That's what everyone needs. It's what Abbey needs, it's what Matty needs, it's what I need."

Brian nodded.

"Do you see an outlet?" I asked. I grabbed an extension cord and walked around the side of the building. There was an outlet along the side of the building, and with a quick push, the lights lit up, sending their colorful glows across the dry grass in front of Abbey and Matty's balcony. I stepped back onto the walkway and stared at the lights, hanging down in just de-rubberbanded strands from the frame of the porch. I sighed. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"

Brian tilted his head, "They're a little crooked," he replied.

I took a deep breath. "I've never done this before Brian," I said.

"It's only a little evident," he answered. "Nobody's gonna notice they're crooked, don't worry."

I stared up at the lights. "No, I mean, the whole Christmas thing with, like, a family? My family was always so fucked up we never did holidays right." I looked at him. "It's okay if it's not like in the story books, right? 'Cos I don't know how to make it like the story books."

Brian nodded, "It's almost better if it's not like in the story books," he answered. "Millions of holiday movies have been created on that exact premise. Just look at the Griswolds or Ralphie. None of them are conventional or traditional." He turned back to the lights. "It's better if some of your icicle lights are a little crooked." He patted my back.

"I just don't wanna mess this up. I might only get one shot at this, you know?" I said. Brian turned to look at me. I squinted at the lights. They looked a little fuzzy around the edges. "I mean, I ruined the best relationship I ever had."

"You didn't do it, Nick, she did," Brian answered.

"I just don't wanna ruin things anymore," I said.

"You don't ruin things." Brian waved his hand at the balcony. "Does that look like the work of someone who ruins things? That looks like the work of someone who's doing his very best and has had a tough life but still believes in the good."

"I try to," I said.

"You succeed."

I stared down at the stapler still in my hand. I could feel my throat tightening up. I grabbed another box of lights and ripped them open. "Well. We're only half done here."

Brian grabbed hold on the ladder and I climbed up it.




Abbey

I was excited and nervous both as I signed the last of Matty's discharge papers, and the mixture just grew and swirled around inside me more and more as I pulled my car up to the front doors and Matty waved goodbye to Monica after she helped me buckle him into the backseat, his little heart monitor watch gleaming in the morning sunlight. Phil stood with his walker in the door way, too, and he saluted Matty and Matty saluted back.

Driving through downtown Nashville felt strangely dangerous with my son in the backseat for the first time in awhile. I clutched the wheel and every pump of the brakes felt like a near accident. I kept glancing back at him in the rearview mirror, making sure he was still there and upright and breathing and everything was okay. He had a big smile on his face as he stared out the window, calling hello to familiar landmarks, like the giant flowers in front of the Frist or the statue of Billy Graham or LP Field or the Marriott hotel or the airport. He pressed his hands against the window and stared out a the stray cats that littered the yard of the apartment buildings and squealed in excitement as ours came into view.

My jaw dropped.

There were lights. Glowing lights hanging from the balcony and framing our sliding porch door. There was a wreath on the door with a big red ribbon that hung nearly to the floor. Matty battled with the buckle on his seat as I turned off the car. "Look, mommy, look!" he shouted. The buckle banged into place and he leaped from the car, running around to the door.

I jumped out, too, as he pranced around our porch area. He waved his arms and sniffed the wreath and jumped up and down, "Look! LOOK!" he shouted, pointing.

In the wreath was an Elf on the Shelf with a little Post-it note in his hand.

"WHAT'S THE NOTE SAY?" Matty cried, "I can't reach it."

I plucked the note out of the little elf's hand. "Hi Matty," I read, "My name is Jeraldo and I am your assigned Elf. Santa told me to come watch over you. I wanted to make sure your house looked extra Christmasy this year. I hope you like it. Make sure you don't touch me though, or the magic will go out of me. I'll leave you another note tomorrow. 'Til then... Jeraldo."

Matty's eyes were huge.

I stared at the note.

"When did you do this?" Matty asked me, but even as he asked the question, I could tell he didn't think I'd done it. Which I hadn't. I had a feeling I knew who had, though. I glanced around for evidence, but he wasn't anywhere around.

"I didn't do it," I answered.

Matty stared at the elf in the wreath. "But I thought Santa wasn't real? Those other kids at the hospital, they said he wasn't, they said the presents come from our parents."

I shrugged. "Maybe those kids are wrong," I answered.

Matty stared up at me.

It suddenly seemed so very important that Matty believe in Santa because believing in Santa was like believing in miracles, believing in hope. I thought of Miracle on 34th Street and the big trial for Kris Kringle and my heart ached that I'd allowed, for even a moment, that Matty stop believing in something as special as Santa Claus.

"He must be real," Matty concluded, staring up at the elf. "If you didn't put him there, who else could've?"

I looked around at the lights, glowing colors all around us. The scent of the greens wafted from the wreath and even though there was no snow on the ground, everything felt magical and pretty, like Christmas should feel.

"Well, let's go inside," I said, "It's cold out here. We'll make some hot chocolate and we'll get you settled in."

"I wanna look at the lights," Matty argued. "And Jeraldo."

"You can see the lights from the couch. And this guy can come inside with us."

I reached for the elf but Matty freaked out, grabbing my elbow, "Don't!!!" he cried, "The magic, it'll leave. Don't de-magic the elf mom!"

"Okay.. okay.. I'm sorry.." I held my hands up, "I'm sorry."

Matty stared up at the elf. I handed him the note and he clutched it, holding it in his little hands. I trudged back to the car, popping the hatchback and pulling out the backpack and one cardboard box of books and toys and various other stuff of Matty's that had collected at the hospital over the week. Gator balanced precariously on top. "C'mon," I called to him from the door. He was still standing on the little patio.

"Bye Jeraldo," he whispered, and he scampered toward me, glancing over his shoulder at the little elf laying in the cradle of the wreath on the door.

I'd never seen him so enchanted by something like that before.

He even checked the window from the inside to see if he could see Jeraldo, and sure enough,he could. I took a picture of him staring up at the wreath and the little elf, framed by Christmas lights at the door. "Think he was there all night?" Matty asked, glancing back at me. The picture snapped just as he turned back and caught the gleam of excitement in his eyes. I smiled.

"Maybe we caught him in the act," I suggested.

"Oooh yeah," Matty said. "They have to sit real still if you catch'em, right?" He turned back to the window. "OH MY GOD I THINK HE MOVED A LITTLE WHEN I WASN'T LOOKING! Mommy, look. Do you think he did?"

I smirked. Jeraldo had certainly turned on Matty's imagination. I headed to the window to inspect the elf's positioning. As I walked across the room, I sent the picture to Nick, and all I wrote beneath it was, I know what you did last night... thank you.