Olivia
Mr. Drakos’s decision stunned me. He called to tell me that he would close the office for the last two weeks of the year, from five days before Christmas until January 2. “Are you sure, sir?” I asked. Matthew was standing in my office doorway looking puzzled.
“I am, Olivia.” he said. “I’ve had some family problems myself recently, and I realized how important it is to be able to be with your loved ones when you can. Maybe some of the employees will be able to travel home with the time they have off.”
“That is so generous of you—” My voice rose with excitement at the news, and Matthew whispered, “What?” I waved my hand for him to stay there.
“The thing is, Mr. Drakos said, “I’ve just spent too much time running without arriving, and I’m beginning to see that. Besides, many companies do this. We can, as well.”
I wrote a note and turned it for Matthew to see, and he went singing, “Deck the Halls” out into the room where all the employees sat. I could hear him saying, “Guess what?”
Mr. Drakos asked me to provide him with an accurate list of all the employees and said he would be personally distributing the usual holiday bonuses for everyone. Accounting would handle it he said. Do not concern yourself he said. I was speechless. This was wonderful news.
~~~
By the final day of work, the mood was festive. All week delicious homemade goodies were shared in the kitchen and music filled the air. On the last day, Mr. Drakos appeared at three o’clock wearing a Santa hat, calling out, “Ho, ho, ho,” as he handed out bonus checks to all the employees. Simone was with him dressed as an elf, helping with the envelopes. This was more than he had ever done before. So, naturally, I worried about this behavior on his part. Was it good news for our company, or did it portend something bad for Mr. Drakos himself?
“Stop viewing the glass half-empty, boss lady,” Matthew said as we locked up the office and parted with hugs beside our cars. He would be travelling south to his family, and I admonished him to drive safely. For myself, I was looking forward to sleeping later in the mornings, not dressing up every day, and spending time with my niece and nephew who would be on winter vacation from school.
My concern that the children would be sad or worried for their mother was unfounded. All I had seen was two excited young people, shopping together, wrapping the gifts they bought, chiding me, ‘don’t peek’. Matias had even volunteered to cook Christmas dinner, and he had several sticky notes on kitchen cabinet doors. They were lists for grocery items needed for the dinner menu in an effort to accommodate all of the nationalities of those who would be attending.
My nephew had taken a job selling Christmas trees, and that evening after work he brought home a tall Fraser fir for us, the biggest tree the house had ever seen. It nearly touched the ceiling. He set the enormous tree in front of the windows, and it filled our home with its delicious scent.
“Can we start on it now?” Mariella asked.
“No, mi amor, it is late, I have no energy left, and you both need your sleep. Tomorrow morning, first thing, I promise. We will finish before Matias leaves for work.”
~~~
There was barely light in the sky when I heard bumping in the attic. I walked out into the hall in my flannel nightie. “Matias, is that you?”
His head appeared at the top of the attic ladder. “I’m sorry I woke you, Aunt Olivia. I couldn’t sleep,” he said, with a guilty grin.
“Me neither,” said a disembodied voice from the interior of the attic, one I recognized as his sister.
Without waking me, they had lit the fireplace. And I could smell coffee, so there was no going back to bed.
“I am defeated,” I said. “Let us do this thing.”
He handed containers down to me until we filled the hall with boxes, many of them with Abuela’s writing on them. She would have loved this, except she would be worried for Isabella. Out of guilt, I had called to talk to my sister, but she would not accept my call. This was something I did not wish to share with the children, and thinking about it made me sad for them. After the last box, I excused myself to freshen up and get dressed in comfortable jeans and my new turquoise sweatshirt with Kiawah Island printed on the front.
For breakfast, oatmeal with butter and honey was perfect on this cold day. We finished, and Mariella began to examine the decorations as Matias unwound the lights, lit them, and then tucked them in the branches of the tree. He did this as if he had been doing so for much of his sixteen years. “If he hadn’t done it,” Mariella said, as she saw me watching her brother, “we would never have had a tree with lights—or a tree at all, I guess.” She was pleased to find a box with wreaths and hangers, so she placed them on the front and back doors, plus smaller ones on all of our bedroom doors.
In one box of ornaments was the angel. Mariella saw me unwrapping it with tenderness and moved closer to watch. “It looks old,” she said.
“She is old. My parents could bring so little with them when they came from Cuba, but my mama insisted they bring this. She had a dream, Papi told me, and in this dream she heard me, her daughter, telling her she must bring the angel with her.”
“How old were you?” Mariella asked.
“I was still nestled safely in Mama’s belly. The angel was wrapped carefully in her lingerie.”
Tears filled Mariella’s eyes as I told her that story.
“I did not wish for you to cry, dear,” I said, as I touched her arm.
“It’s just that I’m thirteen years old, and I have no stories of my mother like that, is all,” she said. She wiped her face with her sleeve. “Mom never liked Christmastime.” She looked at her brother and he nodded his agreement.
“When she wasn’t drinking, she hated it that everyone else was.” He said. “She said it made her feel lonely.”
“But when she was drinking,” Mariella said, “she talked to us all slurry-like and cried and told us over and over again that she loved us. It never felt real.”
It was then that we heard someone knock firmly on the back door. The three of us locked eyes. I feared that Family Services would choose this time to make a home visit but did not voice my fears. Mariella brushed the tears from her face as Matias went to answer. Then, with happiness, I heard the familiar drawl of the officer who had recently brought me the news that changed our lives.
“Aunt Olivia?” Matias called out. In his voice I could hear fear. Did he think the officer had more bad news? I joined them at the door. Mr. Rivers was bundled up this time, with coat and gloves. “Won’t you come in from the cold and warm yourself? We have a fire blazing, thanks to the young people who live here.”
“I didn’t mean to bother you, ma’am,” he said with a smile as he ducked his head under the doorjamb and stepped into the living room, wiping his boots on the mat. “But I saw both cars and figured that you and your nephew were home. I’m not here on official business, in case you’re worried, young man,” he said to Matias, as if reading his mind.
Officer Rivers nodded to Mariella, and said, “I don’t believe we’ve officially met, young lady.”
“Mariella, this is Officer Rivers—”
“Zeke Rivers, please, Miss Mariella. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Mariella shook his hand and smiled. If he noticed she had been crying, he did not react. Then he looked at me. “Please excuse me for interrupting. I’m just checking to see if everything worked out at the courthouse.”
“It did,” I said. As an officer of the law, I thought he might have access to that information, but I was glad to see him, now under better circumstances. “Please remove your coat and I will tell you about it. I was about to make hot cocoa. It is a Cuban tradition. In my family, anyway. And I have marshmallows. More of an American custom, I believe.”
“I couldn’t—” he started to say, but I interrupted him.
“Of course you can have some hot cocoa on this freezing day, Officer, while I fill you in, as some say. My niece has made enough Christmas cookies to allow you—possibly even your entire precinct—to have some of those as well.” I helped him out of his huge coat and hung it in the closet. He was not in uniform, and his clean-smelling scent was as I remembered it.
“I’m just going to step out of these muddy boots, ma’am,” he said, and he opened the door and deposited his boots outside. Then he entered the kitchen in his stocking feet. “Is this okay?”
“Of course. I am in socks, as you can see.” I held up my stockinged foot. I had the multi-colored socks on that my abuela had knitted for me many years ago.
“Well, now I wish I had some fancy stockings, too, Miss Santana.”
“Tell Santa,” Mariella called out from the living room. I could see that Matias was almost finished with the lights.
“You were telling me about your day in court,” Officer Rivers said. “You comfortable with how things have worked out, so far, are you?” He was standing beside me at the stove as I stirred the cocoa.
“Well, sir,” I whispered, “I took a bold step and filed for custody of the children.”
“How about that?” He, too, lowered his voice. “Good for you.”
I poured and then handed him a steaming mug of cocoa. “I know that this is an enormous move, but one I have been reminded by a friend is long overdue.”
“Does your friend live in Chicago?” He took the mug from my hands and looked down. I heard disappointment, or wariness, in his voice.
“She does not.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” His eyes met mine as he blushed. “That was none ‘a my business, was it?”
“It is alright, Officer. Your curiosity and suspicious nature probably serve you well in your line of work. I am not offended.” I could see the relief in his face. It made me smile.
“That’s a beautiful … tree you have,” he said, looking into the living room. “It looks perfect.”
“I got first pick,” Matias called out. “And an employee discount. It helps to work there.” He was examining and adjusting his placement of the lights and Mariella was waiting to hang ornaments on the tree, holding several in her hands.
We moved into the living room. “One detail that has defeated us,” I said, with a wink to Matias, “is the angel. She is historically important. However, none of us is tall enough to manage without a ladder. And that requires a journey to the garage in the cold. Since you are here, would you be so kind as to assist us and place her at the top?” I took the angel from the wrapping and held it out to him.
His pleasure at having been asked was obvious. “I’m honored.” He set his cocoa on a coaster and gently placed my mama’s angel atop the tree. “I haven’t decorated a Christmas tree for years. It surprises me to say so.”
Mariella said, “Well, even though you’re out of practice, we won’t mind at all if you put some of the higher ornaments on.”
“Nothing would please me more, little lady.”
As he began to help decorate the tree, I was surprised to hear Matias asking questions about what it took to be a police officer, something I had not known he had an interest in. Mr. Rivers stayed, seeming to enjoy hanging ornaments with Mariella, as Matias excused himself to get ready for work. After they finished, my niece helped the officer download an app on his phone–one that would allow him to video chat. “Do you have children, Zeke Rivers,” she asked.
Her question embarrassed me. “Mariella, you should not be asking such a personal question.”
“No, no, ma’am, it’s no problem.” Then, to Mariella he said, “I do. A daughter. But she lives in California. I can hardly believe it, but she’s about to be a mommy herself, and I wanted to be able to meet my grandchild. If not in person, at least this way.” He held up his phone, looking happy. He stood. “I’m afraid I overstayed my welcome and really need to let you good folks get on with the rest of your day.”
I had an idea. “I am curious, Officer Rivers, are you on duty on Christmas—in the afternoon?”
“No, ma’am, I’m off that day. Seniority has some advantages.”
“Well in that case …” I looked to Mariella and she nodded her approval. “We would be very happy for you to join us for dinner if you have no other plans. There will be neighbors here as well, some whose English is marginal.”
Matias had bounded down the stairs and into to the room. “It’s like the United Nations, I can tell you.”
“Matias is cooking,” I said. “He is an excellent cook.”
“Yes, please come,” Mariella said. “We play games sometimes.”
“I’m honored to be asked,” he said, “And I’d love to join you.”
“In addition to delicious food, wine will be served, Officer Rivers. Mrs. B’s husband might bring his Russian vodka, and I make Cuban eggnog with dark rum. I hope you do not object.”
“You’ll hear no objection from me. In fact, I’ll be happy to bring some—wine that is, or whatever you might need. But I was wondering—”
“Yes?”
“How about by then, do you think you could call me Zeke?”
“I will try to do that. But only if you will stop referring to me as ‘ma’am’.”
Ruby
“Is Alan really gone?” That was Margo ringing me up, checking to see if I was okay.
“Back to the Bahamas. Lickety split. Said he had some thinking to do. Probably won’t be back.”
“I’m worried about you, Ruby,” she said. “You’ve been with this guy for, um—”
“Five years. I know. I’m not doing cartwheels. Also not as knackered as I thought I’d be–maybe because I know it was for the best. Smack in the face, though, wasn’t it? Him gettin’ miffed because I asked what his financial plans were for this major undertaking. Right indignant he was.”
“Offended that you wondered how he planned to move here and start up his business?”
“‘Offended’ is a grand way of putting it. Accused me of not trusting him, not believing in him. Hah! Not being willing to foot the bill for his grand plan is more like it. A few sandwiches short of a picnic, I am, aren’t I, for not asking the question ages ago. What was I thinking, Margo?”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Alan’s business plan was probably the last thing on your mind, with all the other stuff going on. He may come around. Give him some time.” Margo was ever the hopeful one, wasn’t she?
“Might’ve made a mistake, Margo. If he’s really gone, I’m gonna miss him–and the sex.”
“Don’t be telling me about the sex, Ruby.”
“No help there, still?”
“Well, not that it’s any of your business, but we’re getting better at it, at least. Seems he’s teachable.”
“Good for you.”
“Yeah, but I’m not delusional. He’s always going to have this—compulsion. I’ve banned pretending everything’s hunky-dory if it’s not. New policy: tell me first, talk it out. No secrets. And, too, I’m not above stalking and murdering anyone who tries to lead him astray.”
“Got a life-sized picture of that, I do. But if it comes to it, take me along will you?”
“By the way, Ruby, what are you doing for Christmas? Because if you don’t have plans—”
“Spend it with your family? Are you daft? Including Jon’s nice fiancée? Come on, duck, I may be a nutter, but I’m not dim. Soon as I opened my mouth, said something off—and when don’t I? —your future daughter-in-law would be questioning whether Jon’s family friends were sufficiently pious. There’s no need to make it any harder than it has to be for him to win her over, is there? Besides, I have plans.”
“What plans?”
“You’ll never believe it, but I’m going to my ex-husband’s and his family’s house. I’m having Christmas with them and my daughter and the two rug rats. Walter rang me up last week. Said his wife wanted me to come, if I didn’t have other plans. I wasn’t sure right then, was I? Because I hadn’t chatted with Alan yet. Didn’t know how it would go. But now that’s sorted, so I rang Walt back and accepted the invitation. Brilliant, right?” My fingers were crossed.
Pat Ponders Life 