The Christmas Promise (Christmas Hope) (11 page)

On Monday morning he drank half a carton of orange juice to help his dry mouth, and stood for ten minutes in the shower at his apartment before popping a couple of Xanax pills. He walked to the AA meeting at the church alone—it’s how he wanted to do it. The smell of cigarette smoke filtered up onto the street from the stairs that led to the basement. People lined the steps, taking one final puff before entering. Matt made his way through the smoke and the steel door clanged shut behind him as he walked down the darkened hallway to an open door. A table with coffee was set up at the front of the room. He poured himself a cup.

“You new?” Matt turned and saw a man dressed in khakis and a turtleneck sweater looking at him.

“Yeah.”

“Good to have you,” the guy said, as he stirred cream into his coffee.

Smoke clung to the drapes, and the carpet bore coffee stains from the members’ presence in the building. “What in the world do the people upstairs think of this?” Matt said.

The guy shrugged. “They think enough of it to let us come back each week.” A man started to talk behind them and the guy in the turtleneck motioned for Matt to sit. The room was set up in two semicircle rows of metal chairs. Matthew sat in the second row, behind a post and next to the cumbersome air ducts, hoping no one would notice him. He slunk down and studied what lay beneath his fingernails.

The room hummed with chatter as it filled to over fifty people. There were mechanics and bank presidents, beauticians and corporate trainers. They wore suits, flannel, scrubs, silk, khakis, and blue jeans, and ranged in age from teenagers to a seventy-seven-year-old man. They were a diverse bunch. By all appearances they had nothing in common save one thing. They wanted a new way to live.

A gruff man in a denim shirt and jeans brought the meeting to order. “My name’s Lukas and I’m an alcoholic.” Everyone greeted him, and Matt leaned over on his knees, feeling awkward and obvious and embarrassed to be there. An older man walked in late and sat next to him, but Matthew didn’t look at him. Lukas read about community from the AA Big Book. He opened the floor for discussion, and within seconds the room was buzzing.

A man named Coley took the floor. “When I look back, I know that I’m capable of repeating anything I’ve ever done, and that scares me to death,” he said. A few members nodded and Matthew leaned over in his seat to hear Coley over the heating system. “For the longest time I thought life had to be lived up here where everything is exciting and you do what you want, when you want. But as much as I tried that I’d end up down here, just scraping along. Now I know that life’s good right here in the middle.” He smiled and threw his hand in the air, indicating that he was done.

The conversation ricocheted from person to person for thirty minutes without a break, when the man next to Matthew cleared his throat.

“Hello, Frank,” the members said when he introduced himself.

“I’ve been sober for twenty years this month,” Frank said. The room erupted in applause. “When I first started coming to these meetings a man spoke up and said, ‘We’re as sick as the secrets we keep.’” Matthew turned to look at him. “My addiction was private, and as a man I wanted to be able to fix myself in private but I couldn’t. Pain’s a great motivator. We weren’t meant to be isolated. We need each other. That’s why I come here.”

Around it went for another twenty minutes before Lukas took control again and somebody gave out “sobriety chips.” Tim got a thirty-day chip, and Frank received one for twenty years. When the meeting ended, Matthew avoided the other people and raced up the stairs to the street. It was snowing again, and he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and zipped his coat up to his neck. Words from the meeting flew through his mind.
I brought on a lot of chaos in my life,
Tim had said.
I hated what I had become,
a woman in her fifties had said. A dusting of snow blew across the sidewalk and Matthew walked faster. He heard a truck, and turned when it slowed down next to him. It was Frank.

“Need a lift?”

“I’m headed to the Lexington Apartments,” Matt said.

“I go right by there,” Frank said, stopping. Matt slid in and closed the door. “I’m Frank,” he said, extending his hand. “First meeting?” Matthew nodded. “The steps work if you work them.”

Matthew stared out the window. “What if you can’t get through them?”

“Then they don’t work.”

“It’s not easy, is it?” Matt said.

“Adult problems are never easy,” Frank said. “Seems someone along the way should tell us that. Have a little graduation ceremony or something.”

“What if I’m not sure if I really have a problem?”

“Anybody suggest you come to this meeting?” Matt shook his head. “Anybody
force
you to come? Court ordered?” Matthew looked at him. “You came on your own?” Matt nodded and watched out the window as Fred Clauson spread salt on the sidewalk in front of Wilson’s. “Then you’re sure you have a problem.” Matt liked Frank. He was blunt but kind.

“It seemed pretty raw back there,” Matt said.

“They’re the most honest people you’ll ever be around,” Frank said. He looked over at Matt. “So why’d you come?”

“I left home when I was seventeen, right before my father died,” Matt said. “Drinking helped…”

“Numb the shame?”

Matthew nodded. “For months I haven’t been able to put a thought together in my head. I was losing ground every time I turned around, but I couldn’t stop—I couldn’t stop anything I was doing. I found my mother and thought…” His eyes filled with tears and he turned away.

“This is it?” Frank asked. Matt nodded. Frank pulled into the apartment parking lot, stopped the truck, and looked at him. “You want to come back?”

“Sure, but I’ve never finished anything in my life.”

Frank laughed. “Then you’ll fit right in!” He folded his hands over the steering wheel and leaned into it. “Here’s the nuts and bolts: Don’t go in your apartment and think that you’ll never take a drink again. You will. But when you do, don’t let it keep you pinned to the floor.” Matt nodded. “What are you popping in the morning to help you get up and out?”

“Xanax.”

“Don’t convince yourself you’ll be stopping those cold turkey, either. You want a sponsor?”

“I don’t know what one does.”

Frank wrote down his phone number. “I won’t call you, but you can call me anytime, day or night. Call me when you want to take a drink. Call me when you wanted to take a drink but didn’t. Call when you did drink and you hate yourself for it afterward. Call me if you’re happy, sad, excited, or mad as hell. That’s what a sponsor does. See you tomorrow?”

Matt got out of the truck. “Sure.”

“Call me if you want a ride.”

Frank waved and Matthew watched him pull out of the driveway to the home across the street. He stopped at the end of his driveway and fixed the Christmas lights that were drooping on the baby pine tree. “You’re kidding me,” Matt said beneath his breath, watching as Frank went from tree to tree, shaking snow from each light strand. Matthew laughed and ran up the stairs to his apartment.

Matt cut across the town square on his way to work Tuesday afternoon and noticed the pretty blonde driving through town. She pulled into the alley that went behind the law office. He ran past the gazebo and fir trees to the street, then waited for cars to pass and dodged one as he ran into the road, crossing over to Wilson’s. Her steps were brisk as she hurried up the alley; she didn’t see him dart in front of the law office.

“Hi, I’m Robert. Can I help you with something?”

Robert’s voice startled Matt and he stepped away from the entrance, shaking his head, then opened the door for Robert. Matt turned in a snap to wait for the blonde and accidentally knocked a stack of files out of her hands. “I’m sorry!” he said. “I opened the door for a guy and had no idea you were…” He helped pick up the scattered files and handed them to her. She smiled and looked lovely. In the pit of his stomach he knew it wouldn’t work. She was beyond him.

The phone was pressed to Judy’s ear. “Is Mr. Wilson in?” Matt asked, whispering. She motioned for him to step up to the office behind her.

Marshall was at his desk, making notes on a legal pad. “Hello, Chaz. What’s up?” He took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair.

Matt stood motionless by the door and fumbled with the gloves in his hands. “My name’s not Chaz McConnell.”

Mr. Wilson sat on the edge of his desk and pulled off his glasses. “I don’t think I’m following you.”

Matt shoved the gloves into the pockets of his coat. “I bought a Social Security number from a guy a few years ago because I couldn’t use mine,” he said. Marshall rubbed his brow, trying to understand. “I’ve never had to be fingerprinted before and I was afraid that the person with the Social I bought would have a criminal record. I also knew that my fingerprints wouldn’t match the number, and once someone found out I’d get fired. So I threw the envelope away when it came in.”

Marshall nodded, thinking. “Why didn’t you want to use your own Social?”

“Because I ran away from home seven years ago,” Matt said. “I never wanted my family to find me. I just found them on Sunday night, though. My mother’s Gloria Bailey.”

Marshall’s eyes widened and he ran his index finger back and forth over his chin. “Well, Chaz.” He looked up at him. “Or…?”

“It’s Matthew. My parents always called me Matt.”

“All right, Matt. See Judy about taking a fingerprint test for the job. The security office is down the stairs at the end of the hall.” He slid the glasses over his ears and sat down at the desk. “We’re glad to have you.” He grinned and never brought up the issue again.

Carla went to work early and ran down the stairs to the security office. She opened the door and watched Matt for the longest time. He was uncomfortable and shifted in the chair. “What are you doing?” he asked.

She sat on the edge of his desk and crossed her arms. “Just trying to see Miss Glory in you.”

He pushed away from the desk, setting his ankle on top of his knee. “You won’t see much of her in me.”

“She’s in you,” she said. “Donovan told me.” She picked up a half-eaten candy bar and took a bite.

“How is Donovan?”

“He’s tearing up Dalton and Heddy’s house and thinks he’s all that. I found a new apartment, though, so we’ll move this weekend.” She took another bite of the candy bar, thinking. “I never said thank you.”

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“If you hadn’t showed up, I don’t know…”

“Don’t think about it,” Matt said.

She fidgeted with the candy wrapper. “I keep trying to piece things together. Donovan, your mom, this job. I still can’t figure it out.”

“Maybe you’re not supposed to. Maybe that’s the point.” He picked up pens and pencils that were scattered across the desk and placed them in the cup that was sitting on the desk’s edge.

“You sound like your mom.” She reached for a notepad and let the pages flap over her thumb. “You know, when I first met you I didn’t like you.”

He threw his arms in the air. “What? Why not?”

“I thought you were an—”

He put a hand up. “I know. Donovan told me.”

She laughed and waved the notepad up and down in front of her. “Your mom makes me think about stuff. She tells me to eat green things and to make Donovan eat them, too. She tries to teach me how to make a budget and buy groceries and she tells me not to curse in front of Donovan and warns me about men. I haven’t listened to that last part.” He smiled and leaned back in the chair, propping his feet on the desk. “She makes me believe that I’m not a lost cause, you know?”

He nodded. “I hope to be like her when I grow up.”

She got off the desk. “Good luck with that.” She opened the door and Matt threw his feet to the floor.

“Hey, wait a minute!” he said. “You didn’t say if you liked me now.”

“Ask Donovan,” she said, letting the door close behind her.

I stood in front of the Christmas tree and looked out onto the porch. “What are you doing, Gloria?”

Her voice startled me and I turned to see Miriam standing in the hall entryway. “I’m wondering if I should turn off the porch light.”

She crossed through the dark room and sat down on the sofa. “Leave it on.”

I looked at her in the half-light. “Really?”

“Shouldn’t others see it?” she asked. “Lost ones looking for the light?”

I sat on the recliner, smacking my hands on top of my knees. “Miriam, that might possibly be the most profound thing you’ve ever said!”

“Nonsense,” she said. “I’m full of insight and astute observations. Wisdom seeps through my pores.” She leaned forward and the lights of the tree lit up her face. “Have you wondered, Gloria, if there’s a reason…for all the pain?”

I rested my head on the back of the recliner. Whiskers jumped into my lap and I rubbed behind his ears. “I can’t wrap my mind around it,” I said. “But I’m sure there’s a purpose.”

She curled her legs up on the sofa. “Even if it’s self-inflicted?”

Whiskers stretched a front paw toward my face and I squeezed it in my hand. “If that’s not the case then there’s no hope for any of us.”

She stood up and her gown and robe cascaded off the couch in smooth pink folds. “Good night, Gloria. Good night, cat.”

I watched her disappear down the hall and heard the bedroom door close. For the rest of my life I could question why Matthew ran away, why he was gone for so long, and why he chose to do things that hurt him. I could ask myself things like,
What if Matt hadn’t moved to this town? What if he hadn’t just stumbled onto my doorstep? Would he ever have come home?
I knew I could play the “what if?” game forever. Or I could let God work beauty out of the last seven years and actually sleep at night. Whiskers jumped off my lap and I unplugged the tree, letting the porch light filter through the living room as I walked up the stairs to bed.

Matt took the bus into the city the next morning and walked four blocks to the Kirk shelter. A woman behind a semicircular desk led him through the gymnasium and wide double doors to a hallway with several doors on either side. The floors were shiny and smelled of ammonia and the walls were sage green. She opened a door to a cinder-block room, the walls of which were painted red. A cubicle divider stood in the room’s center. They passed an older man sleeping on a bed. The woman peeked around the cubicle wall. “Knock, knock,” she said. “You have a visitor.”

Matt stepped beside her and saw Mike lying propped on the bed with his leg in a cast. “Hi, Mike.”

The woman backed away and Mike smiled; he looked healthy despite the bruises and cast. “Hey, Chaz.”

“Janet, the woman who doesn’t like people—you know, the lady who’s on the square from time to time…?” Mike nodded. “She heard that you were here.” Matt dragged the vinyl yellow chair up to the bed and settled in. He told his story and looked at the floor, fumbling with the coat in his hands. “I’m not telling you what to do,” he said. “I’m not even suggesting it, but…” Mike listened, watching his face, and Matt shuffled from foot to foot. “I was wondering if you’d be up for a road trip?”

Erin picked her things up at my house after work. She and her mother were coordinating their schedules for now and taking care of Gabe. “Once I have money saved, I’ll need to move back into town,” she said. “To be closer to work.”

“Call me when you’re ready and I’ll help you find something,” I said. I helped her pack her things into a box and suitcase. “So, Robert Layton tells me you’re sweet on someone downtown.”

Her mouth fell open. She threw a pair of jeans into the suitcase. “What! No. He was standing there when this guy just—”

“Swept you off your feet,” Miriam finished.

“No! No, he ran into me, and—”

“Birds tweeted, rockets launched, the earth moved?” I laughed at Miriam and Erin dumped a drawer full of socks and underwear into the suitcase.

“He wouldn’t want a girl with a baby,” Erin said. “Trust me.”

“I’ve been studying and watching and performing for people my whole life,” Miriam said. “I can sense when someone is angry or bored.”

“Are you sensing anything now?” I asked, winking at Erin.

Miriam held up her hand. “Gloria, please. I can tell if someone is anxious or worried. And I can see when someone is in love.”

“Me!” Erin screamed. “I am not!”

Miriam and I laughed. “Just tell us this,” I said. “Is he handsome?”

Erin zipped up the suitcase and pulled it off the bed. “Yes,” she said, brushing past me.

“I knew it,” Miriam said, running after her. “And what is the handsome man’s name?”

Whiskers bolted from the stair landing when he heard us coming. “I don’t know his name and as soon as he discovers that there are two of us in this family I doubt he’ll want to know my name, either.”

“Oh, a doubter,” I said, loading the box into the trunk.

“And a skeptic,” Miriam said, watching Erin. “But I know people, and this one is in looove.” She dragged the word out and Erin slammed the trunk shut.

She turned and hugged us, and I was certain that I saw a tear in Miriam’s eye. “Thank you, Gloria. Thank you both for everything,” Erin said.

“Come back anytime,” I said. “Bring your boyfriend. I’ll leave the light on for you.” She laughed and backed out of the driveway, waving. We watched her drive away and I sighed. “I hate good-byes and endings, and the conclusion of things in general.”

“You’d think we’d be used to them by now,” Miriam said.

I walked up the stairs to the porch. “I know. But they still stink.”

Miriam picked up a large box filled with plates, saucepans, and utensils, and carried it into the house. I followed her into the garage with a huge bag of clothes. “We really need a permanent place for all this stuff,” she said.

I dropped the bag. “We?”

She unloaded the box onto the shelves. “You! Dalton and Heddy and you! Who do you think I mean?”

I sorted through the clothes and laughed.

Matt’s siblings all had plans to be with their in-laws on Christmas but they rearranged their plans so they could come to my house. Miriam and I shifted into high gear. There would be twenty of us, including Dalton and Heddy and Carla and Donovan, and there was lots of baking and cooking and shopping to be done.

Matthew was awkward around his brothers and sister—they were strangers, really—but that would change over the course of time. On Christmas day my grandchildren littered the living room with wrapping paper and kept Miriam on her toes. “Throw that in here,” she said to each child as he or she unwrapped a gift. “No, no, not on the floor. We’re not rats!”

My grandson brought his toy horse named Pink, and Whiskers spent the day darting from one hiding place to the next. Miriam said she’d never seen anything like it, and actually felt sorry for Whiskers. “There. It’s passed now,” she said, running through the house waving Pink in the air.

Donovan was shocked to see that not only did Santa deliver presents under his Christmas bush, but that there were presents for him at my house as well. “How’d he do that?” he screamed, opening a small plastic case filled with dinosaurs. Carla opened a package of press-on nails and Donovan yelled out, “I told Santa you wanted those!” Carla’s shoulders bounced when she laughed, and I hoped that this time she could get her feet on the ground for good.

Andrew handed Matt a small box wrapped with green foil paper and a velvet ribbon. Matthew slid the bow off the box, ripped back the paper, and lifted the lid. He picked up the red spiral notebook and looked at me. “I figured you’d want it back now,” I said. I watched Matt’s eyes scan one page and then another of the notebook. “Take it in small bites,” I whispered.

After the presents were opened, the doorbell rang and I maneuvered through the debris to the door. I threw the door open when I saw who it was. “I’m so glad you could come,” I said, taking Gabe from Erin’s arms.

“Since Mom’s working, I knew we’d be awfully lonely today,” she said.

I pressed Gabriel to my cheek and walked with him into the kitchen. “Come meet Matt.”

Matt was cutting another piece of coffee cake, and glanced up to see me with the baby. “Who’s this?” he said, licking his fingers.