By: Jeffrey Caminsky (Candle/Frozen/Rivals)
Fred Detwiler looked out his window. The bare trees shook in the wind, and the sun sparkled on the fresh-fallen snow. Others might find ways to enjoy the winter, but he hated it. He hated the slush and ice; he hated shoveling the sidewalk, and scraping windshields. The only good thing about it was Christmas, and even that was ruined by the crowds and commercialism. He should have moved to Florida when he retired, but Mary had other plans. She wanted to be close to the kids and all her friends, and so after looking through all the brochures they never actually made the move. He looked through them again last year, after she died. Now, he really couldn’t see the point.
Peering out the window again, Fred thought about heading to the kitchen. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee always brought him back to happier times. Before long he was wandering back, hoping to see his favorite breakfast of French toast and bacon laid out on the table for him.
*****
Samantha Detwiler walked down the sterile hallway, marveling how people could keep things so clean and tidy. Stopping at the end of the hall, she tried not to cry at the sight of the ten-foot Christmas tree, all trimmed and decorated. Today, it reminded her of that first Christmas after her own father passed away, the year she married into the Detwiler family. They’d wanted to make the holiday a happy one for her, not realizing it only made her miss her father all the more. But it was the Christmas tree she remembered the most: Fred, her new father-in-law, had dressed it with such loving care that year, even borrowing the ceramic angel that Dad always placed on top of the tree. It made her break down completely, convinced she’d ruined Christmas for everyone.
Fred, her new father-in-law, became her hero that year.
“Don’t come out unless you want to,” he’d said, after taking her to a room upstairs where she could be alone. “Everyone understands…and if they don’t, they’ll answer to me. If you just want to crawl into a hole and hide, that’s fine. We’ll still be there, whenever you come back out.”
Thirty years later she felt the same surge of love and gratitude whenever the memory came to mind. And it had never come to mind more painfully than in the last year.
Especially now, with the scent of pine cones and bayberry candles filling the halls, and Christmas trees towering over the little girl she felt herself to be.
Feeling sad and alone, she smiled at the sound of a familiar voice.
“Hello, Samantha.”
Before she knew it, tears were filling her eyes. “I’m glad you could come, Frank.”
“How is he?”
“Same as always.”
Frank gave her a hug and stepped inside.
*****
“What do you want?” demanded Fred. His back stiffened, and he tensed for the confrontation.
“Nothing,” said Frank. “Nothing at all. I just stopped by to say hello.”
“You know she doesn’t want to see you.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t. But I came to see you.”
His eyes narrowing with suspicion, Fred watched Frank walk across the room to take a seat by the window.
“How are you, Fred?”
Nervously glancing about, Fred saw the full water pitcher on the table beside his bed. He wondered how Frank had managed to sneak it into the room. More importantly, he wondered whether any poison was inside it.
“Samantha is looking lovely as always,” smiled Frank. “I saw her in the hallway.”
“Where did you hide it?”
“I didn’t hide anything, Fred.”
“You’re lying. You always lie. Just like you lied to your mother about that pocketknife.”
“I was wrong about that, Fred.”
“I never forgave you for that.”
“Well, I’ve always been sorry. And I’m still sorry.”
“And you lied to me about Mary.”
“You set me straight about that a long time ago.”
“Damn right!” Fred laughed. Leaning back to take a deep breath he saw that one of the ceiling tiles had a crack in it. He thought that he’d already fixed it, and was about to ask Frank who had broken it when he was interrupted by the lady in the white dress. She’d stepped into the room just as Fred opened his mouth to speak, and usually caused nothing but trouble. Fred watched her take the lunch tray from the table and leave the room. It reminded him of the picnic lunch he’d had not long ago, in the woods near the home he shared with his wife. There was a tray there, too, but Mary made better chicken.
Suddenly, he found himself face-to-face with his erstwhile friend.
“What do you want?”
“I stopped by to say hello, and to wish you a Merry Christmas.”
“Yes, Mary,” sneered Fred. “You still haven’t gotten over that, have you?”
“That was a long time ago,” sighed Frank.
“And you still haven’t gotten over it.”
*****
Frank closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. These visits were hard on him, and he doubted they did anyone any good. He always left feeling worse than when he arrived.
Rising from her seat in the hallway, Samantha stepped towards Frank and buried herself in his arms; Frank swayed back and forth with her, as she cried softly.
“I’m sorry, Samantha.”
“I know. It’s hard.”
“It’s funny…but we competed over everything, even when we were kids.”
“He never forgave you for beating him out as class valedictorian,” Samantha chuckled. “Teased you about it every chance he got.”
“I wouldn’t have made it without him pushing me,” Frank said, kissing her forehead. “And for me…he’ll always be that little boy who invited the new kid on the block over to his house to play.”
“Even though the two of you scuffled and competed with each other ever since,” Samantha said, drying her eyes. “Just like a couple of schoolboys.”
“Well, he got even when Mary chose him to take her to the Prom. I always told him he got the better of the deal. At least when my wife was out of earshot.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“Well…it’s Christmas. In the twenty years since Mary died, I’ve never missed a Christmas. And as long as you put up with my jokes at the dinner table, I never will.”
“See you later, at the house?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Samantha watched the old man shuffle down the hallway, past the nurse’s station and toward the elevators. His back bent with age, Frank still had the bright eyes and jaunty smile he had the first time she’d met him. It was at her wedding, when he and Fred tried to outdo each other showing off their fanciest dance steps with their wives. They’d spent the rest of the evening laughing over who looked the silliest. Whenever she looked at either one of them, the music from the wedding still echoed in her ears, except that now her eyes were filled with tears.
Samantha took a deep breath and opened the door to Fred’s room. The rest of the family was waiting for her at home, and it was time to say goodbye.
Fred Detwiler looked out his window. The bare trees shook in the wind, and the sun sparkled on the fresh-fallen snow. Others might find ways to enjoy the winter, but he hated it. He hated the slush and ice; he hated shoveling the sidewalk, and scraping windshields. The only good thing about it was Christmas, and even that was ruined by the crowds and commercialism. He should have moved to Florida when he retired, but Mary had other plans. She wanted to be close to the kids and all her friends, and so after looking through all the brochures they never actually made the move. He looked through them again last year, after she died. Now, he really couldn’t see the point.
Peering out the window again, Fred thought about heading to the kitchen. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee always brought him back to happier times. Before long he was wandering back, hoping to see his favorite breakfast of French toast and bacon laid out on the table for him.
*****
Samantha Detwiler walked down the sterile hallway, marveling how people could keep things so clean and tidy. Stopping at the end of the hall, she tried not to cry at the sight of the ten-foot Christmas tree, all trimmed and decorated. Today, it reminded her of that first Christmas after her own father passed away, the year she married into the Detwiler family. They’d wanted to make the holiday a happy one for her, not realizing it only made her miss her father all the more. But it was the Christmas tree she remembered the most: Fred, her new father-in-law, had dressed it with such loving care that year, even borrowing the ceramic angel that Dad always placed on top of the tree. It made her break down completely, convinced she’d ruined Christmas for everyone.
Fred, her new father-in-law, became her hero that year.
“Don’t come out unless you want to,” he’d said, after taking her to a room upstairs where she could be alone. “Everyone understands…and if they don’t, they’ll answer to me. If you just want to crawl into a hole and hide, that’s fine. We’ll still be there, whenever you come back out.”
Thirty years later she felt the same surge of love and gratitude whenever the memory came to mind. And it had never come to mind more painfully than in the last year.
Especially now, with the scent of pine cones and bayberry candles filling the halls, and Christmas trees towering over the little girl she felt herself to be.
Feeling sad and alone, she smiled at the sound of a familiar voice.
“Hello, Samantha.”
Before she knew it, tears were filling her eyes. “I’m glad you could come, Frank.”
“How is he?”
“Same as always.”
Frank gave her a hug and stepped inside.
*****
“What do you want?” demanded Fred. His back stiffened, and he tensed for the confrontation.
“Nothing,” said Frank. “Nothing at all. I just stopped by to say hello.”
“You know she doesn’t want to see you.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t. But I came to see you.”
His eyes narrowing with suspicion, Fred watched Frank walk across the room to take a seat by the window.
“How are you, Fred?”
Nervously glancing about, Fred saw the full water pitcher on the table beside his bed. He wondered how Frank had managed to sneak it into the room. More importantly, he wondered whether any poison was inside it.
“Samantha is looking lovely as always,” smiled Frank. “I saw her in the hallway.”
“Where did you hide it?”
“I didn’t hide anything, Fred.”
“You’re lying. You always lie. Just like you lied to your mother about that pocketknife.”
“I was wrong about that, Fred.”
“I never forgave you for that.”
“Well, I’ve always been sorry. And I’m still sorry.”
“And you lied to me about Mary.”
“You set me straight about that a long time ago.”
“Damn right!” Fred laughed. Leaning back to take a deep breath he saw that one of the ceiling tiles had a crack in it. He thought that he’d already fixed it, and was about to ask Frank who had broken it when he was interrupted by the lady in the white dress. She’d stepped into the room just as Fred opened his mouth to speak, and usually caused nothing but trouble. Fred watched her take the lunch tray from the table and leave the room. It reminded him of the picnic lunch he’d had not long ago, in the woods near the home he shared with his wife. There was a tray there, too, but Mary made better chicken.
Suddenly, he found himself face-to-face with his erstwhile friend.
“What do you want?”
“I stopped by to say hello, and to wish you a Merry Christmas.”
“Yes, Mary,” sneered Fred. “You still haven’t gotten over that, have you?”
“That was a long time ago,” sighed Frank.
“And you still haven’t gotten over it.”
*****
Frank closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. These visits were hard on him, and he doubted they did anyone any good. He always left feeling worse than when he arrived.
Rising from her seat in the hallway, Samantha stepped towards Frank and buried herself in his arms; Frank swayed back and forth with her, as she cried softly.
“I’m sorry, Samantha.”
“I know. It’s hard.”
“It’s funny…but we competed over everything, even when we were kids.”
“He never forgave you for beating him out as class valedictorian,” Samantha chuckled. “Teased you about it every chance he got.”
“I wouldn’t have made it without him pushing me,” Frank said, kissing her forehead. “And for me…he’ll always be that little boy who invited the new kid on the block over to his house to play.”
“Even though the two of you scuffled and competed with each other ever since,” Samantha said, drying her eyes. “Just like a couple of schoolboys.”
“Well, he got even when Mary chose him to take her to the Prom. I always told him he got the better of the deal. At least when my wife was out of earshot.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“Well…it’s Christmas. In the twenty years since Mary died, I’ve never missed a Christmas. And as long as you put up with my jokes at the dinner table, I never will.”
“See you later, at the house?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Samantha watched the old man shuffle down the hallway, past the nurse’s station and toward the elevators. His back bent with age, Frank still had the bright eyes and jaunty smile he had the first time she’d met him. It was at her wedding, when he and Fred tried to outdo each other showing off their fanciest dance steps with their wives. They’d spent the rest of the evening laughing over who looked the silliest. Whenever she looked at either one of them, the music from the wedding still echoed in her ears, except that now her eyes were filled with tears.
Samantha took a deep breath and opened the door to Fred’s room. The rest of the family was waiting for her at home, and it was time to say goodbye.