A Starlit Carol
A Short Story at Christmastime
Nota Bene: I quite enjoyed returning to some occasional fiction last month, and since I have a Christmasesque story, I decided to run it. I hope you enjoy it. And since my Christmas list contained a couple of short story recommendations, I’d like to add my own contribution to the holiday cheer.
Henry sat under the bridge while the river rippled briskly past his feet. The huge cement pillars jutted out of the water and into the air, awkwardly giving the scene a cement filled skyline. When he was little, Henry used to sit under this bridge and skip rocks across the water’s surface. He wasn’t little anymore, and it had been a long time since he skipped rocks from the Fox River’s edge. He watched as the sun started disappearing below the horizon, setting the sky ablaze while the scrawny limbs sprouting from leafless trees scratched at the grey canvas. The trees reached for the sun in vain, and Henry felt a sort of sympathy for them. He looked back to the brown water rolling over the rocks along the shore.
Two months. He still could not believe it had been two months.
He saw, at that moment, the day he proposed to Victoria. Those words floated through his mind, words that seemed to come from somebody other than himself. Henry realized how hopeless he had been: “I don't have anything, but I love you.” Had that ever been enough? Could any marriage hope to survive such poverty? Since Victoria left, Henry oscillated between anger at his own false sense of hope and despair over the deep loss of his marriage.
The first few days after Victoria was gone had shattered his strength in more ways than he cared to admit. Zoe would cry all night long and Henry could not keep himself together long enough to figure out why she was upset. The beer didn’t help. He figured that Zoe just missed her mom, a sentiment he understood. There had been no note, no goodbye. Victoria had simply walked out of their lives, and Henry felt as though there wasn’t much left of a life. Had Victoria felt the same? Those first sleepless nights took Henry down the rabbit holes of what-if and if-only. Vic had been Henry’s glue. When they learned that Vic was pregnant, he was terrified. Still, he knew he could handle it with Vic by his side. The morning she left, he stared at their daughter for a couple of hours just trying to grasp the situation. He didn’t know what to say or do. He had never been so lost.
It wasn’t until Henry realized that there were no more diapers in the apartment that his shame overwhelmed him. He called his folks. His mom came by to get Zoe, just until Henry could get things together. He put in for some time off from the airport. It occurred to Henry that perhaps Vic missed them as much as they missed her. If he could just find her, maybe she would come back. He didn’t have any money for an extended search, but he pawned enough things from around the house to pay for a flight to Ithaca. He thought Columbia would be the most likely spot for her to go. This was his only real chance, and for two days he searched in and around the University, asking if anyone had seen her or heard her name. He wasn’t even sure if she still used his last name. On the second day, his wallet photo of her had slipped from his hands and was trod into oblivion by the crowd around him. He gave up, went to the airport, and headed back. Every dime he and Zoe had was gone. And Victoria was gone too.
Henry didn’t think he would ever recover, but his life didn’t stop for him to decide. When he got to his folks’ house, he started looking for a job with a different shift. The city hired him to work on the park crews, which meant he could be home with Zoe in the evenings. He could walk to work from where his parents lived, which meant Zoe would have someone with her during the day. His folks helped him out of the apartment lease, but he came out in the hole. His folks seemed understanding. They let him move back in, with only on condition: “The first night you come home drunk will be the last.” His dad’s tone had been firm, even though his old man teared up as he said it.
His buddies at the airport tried to convince him he didn’t have to move, but which of them could help him raise Zoe? Oscar had come by a few times to try and get Henry out of the house, but Henry didn’t feel much like going out. Henry adjusted to the new routine. But he still struggled, three months later, to sleep peacefully. The bed was too open without Victoria. Some nights sleep never came. He’d start to roll over, but his arm would grasp only air. At those moments, when no one else was near, Henry would cry. He cried hard at night; he was sure his parents heard him sometimes. But that was the only time he felt he could let it down, could let his hurt pour out. He knew he had to keep it together, if only for Zoe’s sake.
As Henry stood by the river, to start his walk home, he pulled his jacket close around his neck. Novembers were always cold. Christmas was close. He hadn’t bought Zoe anything, so he decided to leave the river behind him and take a detour through town. Henry recalled a little toy store on College Avenue. He was still paying his parents back for all the help they had given him, but he knew they wouldn’t object to a small gift for Zoe. As he walked down the sidewalk, kicking the crisp leaves in the air with his heavy work boots, he noticed a family on the other side. A young woman carried a little girl in her arms, while a father had a dog on a leash. He looked on as they laughed and talked together.
“That's what it’s supposed to be like,” he thought, “that’s a family.”
He opened the glass door of Golden Treasures, and headed to the left, where they kept the children’s books. Zoe was going to need books. He didn’t want her to end up like her dad. He stood in front of the children’s books, bewildered. The had not expected so many colors and titles; he didn’t know where to even begin. He stood motionless for a few minutes, slid his forefinger across numerous spines for a couple more, but made no headway. He looked up to see a salesclerk approaching.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Her name tag said her name was Frances.
“I'm looking for a book for my daughter, she’s only about a year old, but I thought I could find something to read her at night.”
Henry’s voice sounded deeper than he recalled. He could not remember speaking to someone completely new since Victoria left, not even at the new job. He felt strange caught up in a conversation now. He stared at Frances with a lost expression, blushing when he realized she saw his awkward reaction to the moment.
“Well at that age it doesn't matter too much. Hearing your voice is what makes the difference. You should pick something you wouldn’t mind reading to her.”
“Any suggestions?” Henry’s hesitancy gave way to that lost feeling he felt every now and then. He’d asked for so much help recently, he wasn’t sure how much more he could depend upon.
Frances looked thoughtfully at the wall of books in front of her for a few moments. Then suddenly, she stopped and smiled. “This one will do the trick, I think,” she said as she stretched out her arm and pulled a green book from the shelves.
“The House at Pooh Corner?” Henry looked skeptically at the book.
“Just try it. If it’s not for you, you can bring it back and exchange it. No big deal.”
Henry felt the weight of the book in his hand, trying to get a sense for what he was doing. He walked to the front counter and handed Frances his money.
“We’ll see you soon, I hope.”
Henry turned and nodded as he walked out the door, the bell tinging behind him. As he headed back home, he thought about the woman’s words at the store. He didn’t feel like it could be that simple, that his voice would make the difference. Henry felt deep inside he needed to earn his place for being Zoe’s father, to do for her what he had not done for Victoria. So far, he had been failing left and right. He heard some carolers in the distance singing “O Holy Night.” Henry could not recall that last holy night he had seen. He looked up, hoping for something in the dark night sky. He could feel his bitterness start to swell inside of him. Still, after all these months, he sometimes could not bring himself to understanding why she left.
“till He appeared and the soul felt its worth”
What gave her the right to leave him and Zoe?
“A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices”
What had Henry done to deserve this?
“For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn”
And right then, Henry began to realize something. It wasn’t what he had done, but what he had left undone.
“Fall on your knees, oh, hear the angel voices”
How often had he given something up for Victoria? Her dreams, her wishes, those had always come second to him. He felt sure that he loved her, but he finally understood that he had loved himself more. As Henry came to a halt in the park across the street from his parents’ house, it all seemed to click in his head. In that moment, he thought he understood why Victoria had left. He thought about the moments they shared in the hospital while her mom was sick, just before they found out about the pregnancy. He had done everything for her. He stayed up for three days just so Vic could get a break while someone sat with her mom. Henry had promised Vic a life, but what had he given her? And though he wasn’t completely alone, he began to gently cry.
Henry walked up the steps to the house, and calmly set his coat in the closet. He walked quietly upstairs and headed straight for the baby’s room. He stood in the doorway for a long time, and the soft blue wallpaper gave the impression that Zoe’s cloud-like crib was resting perfectly on the horizon. He walked in and picked her up, cradling her to keep her asleep. He didn’t want to startle her awake. He pulled the blanket that Vic bought for her out of the crib and wrapped her up in it. And as he sat in the rocking chair, tenderly holding his daughter, he pulled out her new book. He wanted Zoe to know his voice.
“I love you, angel. And I will strive to show it. But I want to tell you something. Don’t be bitter with your mommy. She deserved better.” He paused for a second to gather his emotions. She breathed deep, still asleep, even as he started softly speaking again. “Just remember one thing, daddy will do his best to give you the life your mommy wanted for you, a better life.”
He opened the book to the first page and started reading, “An introduction is to introduce people . . . .”