The Christmas Sweater (12 page)

S
chool let out ten days before the holiday because Christmas fell on a Sunday. Grandpa
had gone on his annual three-day hunting trip a little later than normal, which gave
me the perfect opportunity to finally put my plan into motion.

“Grandma, would you mind if I stayed over at Taylor’s house for a few nights? His
parents already said it was okay.” Grandpa never would’ve allowed this, but Grandma
was a softie. She was still under the mistaken impression that I could be “saved,”
and I used that against her.

To my surprise, she didn’t answer right away. I started to worry that I might have
miscalculated.

“Grandpa wouldn’t approve, but I trust you, Eddie.” She looked deep into my eyes as
she said, “I know your heart. I suppose it would be okay if it’s just a few nights.”
Whew. I quietly breathed a big sigh of relief.

I ran up to my bedroom, opened my window, and heaved the duffel bag I’d stolen from
the barn up onto the windowsill. It held nearly everything I owned, along with a few
things I didn’t, crammed into every pocket and corner. I pushed it over the edge,
hoping that it wouldn’t make much noise when it hit the ground.

“Good-bye, dear,” Grandma said as the Ashtons pulled up in their Continental. I was
surprised that no one asked why I didn’t just walk, like I had a hundred times before.
While Grandma made small talk with Mrs. Ashton, Taylor opened the passenger door and
helped me load in the duffel bag.

I felt like I’d finally escaped.

Mr. Ashton was away on another short business trip, so Taylor and I turned our attention
to treating his mother like royalty. We made her breakfast, we took out the garbage,
we even vacuumed the rugs and did the dishes without being asked.

All the while we watched her like a hawk, waiting until she was in the perfect mood.
Not surprisingly, it came two days later at about four o’clock in the afternoon. Mrs.
Ashton was watching television, a smile on her face and a crystal tumbler in her hand,
when we made our approach.

“Mom,” Taylor began, “Eddie and I want to talk to you about something.”

“Of course,” she replied, never taking her eyes off the television. “What is it?”

Taylor looked at me; I had the stage now. I couldn’t even count how many times I had
rehearsed what I was about to say. I steadied my voice. “Janice,” I began, “my grandparents
are miserable, and so am I.”

She stopped watching the television and turned to face me. I had her attention now.
“They’re just too old to really understand me,” I continued. “Plus, I feel bad be
cause Grandma just wants peace and quiet, and I’m nothing but a burden to them.”

“Oh, Eddie, I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is, Janice, believe me. I’ve tried everything, but we just don’t see eye to eye
anymore. I think all three of us would be much happier if I could just come and live
with you guys for a while. My grandparents would be fine with it. In fact, they might
not admit it, but I think secretly they’re really hoping that I would ask you.” It
wasn’t hard to sell any of this because I truly believed it. I had closed down my
emotional attachments for so long that I honestly thought my grandparents would be
thrilled if I left. They could get on with their lives and I could get on with mine.
Besides, I knew what I wanted to do and where I was going—and it didn’t include being
stuck on a farm.

Mrs. Ashton’s eyes narrowed. “Well, Eddie, if your grandparents are really okay with
it, then so am I. But I’ll have to talk about it with Stan when he gets home tomorrow.”

I nodded my head and looked over at Taylor. It took every ounce of self-control I
had left not to smile.

The next day marked the third day since I’d left, and I knew that my grandfather would
soon be back from his trip. When he found out that I’d been gone for so long, he’d
call the Ashtons, or worse, come right to their house.

Mr. Ashton had gotten home earlier that morning, and now Taylor and I were standing
in front of his parents in the living room. “Eddie,” Mrs. Ashton said softly, “we
understand. We’re more than happy to have you here, but we’re going to have to make
some arrangements. You and Taylor go find something to do while Stan and I try to
figure something out.”

“Are you ready to have a new brother?” I said smugly to Taylor after his parents left
the room.

For longer than I could remember I had been looking forward to this moment as the
time I would finally be happy. So why did I feel like I had when I’d opened the sweater
on Christmas morning?

We’re all made up of two parts. There’s a part that thinks and then there’s a part
that feels.

That was the problem. I
felt
great, but the thinking part of me knew that I wasn’t going to get what I expected—I
was going to get what I deserved.

After lunch, Mr. Ashton told us to get ready to go for a drive. “I need to go to the
store for your mom, Taylor. Why don’t you and Eddie come along? We’ll stop for a treat.”

We got into the Lincoln, pulled out onto the road, and drove past Russell’s farm.
As usual, it looked abandoned. It wasn’t long before my grandparents’ house came into
view. As we approached, I slouched down in my seat and hoped they weren’t looking
out the window. I had a new life now.

“What are you doing?!” I yelled as Mr. Ashton turned into the driveway by my grandfather’s
old plow and pulled up to the house. My grandmother’s silhouette appeared and became
sharper as we approached.

“Eddie, Janice and I came over here last night and spent nearly two hours with your
grandparents. They
don’t see things quite the same way you do. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s
best for you to be here with them right now.”

For a moment I considered bracing my legs against the front seat and refusing to get
out of the car. I’d been betrayed. They’d hurt me. I felt as if a knife was working
in a circle around my heart, twisting inside my chest and making me want to scream
for help. I couldn’t believe the Ashtons and my grandparents had conspired against
me. It bruised my pride to think I’d been so stupid that I hadn’t even seen it coming.

I sat in the backseat, angry, empty, confused. My left side was warm from the heater,
but the open door sent chills down my arm and leg. My side hurt. My eyes burned. I
fought back tears like I’d never fought anything in my life.

Mr. Ashton stood next to me, patiently holding the front passenger seat down so I
could get out.

Taylor sat next to me, looking straight down at the floor. I wondered if he had betrayed
me too.

A dozen crude, hateful things passed through my mind, but I said none of them. In
fact, for the next twenty-four hours, I said nothing at all.

“Eddie, please, just talk to us…” Grandma repeated her speech about how much they
loved me and how the Ashtons loved me, too. They were hurt and disappointed, but most
of all, they were confused. They couldn’t understand how I could possibly think they’d
be happier if I left.

My grandfather seemed a little softer than he had been before I’d left, but he didn’t
openly gush, like Grandma. It went unsaid at the time, but Grandpa knew exactly
who
Stan Ashton really was: the big-city guy that he would’ve made pay to take his wood
and windows away.

“Christmas is coming,” he told me later that night, clearly hoping we could put the
past where it belonged.

“What do you say we enjoy it and start the new year off with a fresh look at things?”

“Start fresh?” I asked incredulously. Grandpa had un
wittingly bent my sadness into pent-up anger that pushed its way into my face, turning
it bright red. “Start
fresh
? Are you going to bring Mom and Dad back to life? Are you going to give me a life
like other kids have? Like Taylor has? You think I’m supposed to just forget everything
that’s happened?”

“Not forget, Eddie…
forgive.
You don’t have to move past it, but you do have to move through it. Most of the slop
you are wallowing in is of your own making.”

“You keep talking to me like it’s going to make a difference. I’m thirteen years old,
and my life is already over.”

My grandmother stepped between us. “Eddie, you’re right. We’re too old to have a teenager,
but we’re trying really hard. We’ve seen a lot and we’ve been through a lot. We know
that things will get easier—you’ve just got to stick with it for a while.”

I stood and pulled my fist from my jean pockets. “Right.” I mustered as much pain
and anger as I possibly could into my gaze. I turned to my grandfather, but my stare
was no match for his. “You don’t want me here, and I don’t want to be here. Now, thanks
to you, my only friend
doesn’t want me either.” I spun on my heels and flew into my room, slamming the door
so hard that one of Grandma’s pictures fell from the wall in the hallway.

It was a picture of my mother.

Less than a minute later, my door opened again and my grandfather stood there carrying
the duffel bag I’d used in my escape. I’d barely been able to drag it along the ground,
yet he easily lifted it with one hand, stood it on its end, and rested his palm on
it as he faced me.

“Sit down, Eddie.”

I sat on the bed and tilted my head way back to look up at him.

“This nonsense stops tonight. I have dried more of your grandmother’s tears in the
last year than in all our other years together—combined. Last night she told me that
she wished she had died instead of your mom. You think the world is against you. Even
if it were true, it wouldn’t give you an excuse to treat people the way you do. You
are here because we’re family. You don’t use family.”

“I don’t
have
any family,” I snapped back at him. “As far as I’m concerned, my family is dead.”

If we were all God’s children, then I wanted to hurt one of His, just like He had
hurt me. The darkness tightened all around me.

The expression on my grandfather’s face completely changed. The number of strained
creases stayed the same, but they changed direction as controlled anger turned to
deep pain.

“Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. You are everything to us, and you were everything
to your parents. Eddie, you choose your own path in life. You’ve had a hard road and
there’ve been wrong turns, but you’ll find your way. And we’ll be there to help you
at every turn.”

His words were welcome, but they brought me no comfort. In that moment I realized
that my stubbornness was more powerful than his kindness. This was going to be the
one game that Grandpa was finally going to lose, because now I was the one with the
system.

I already knew how this game was going to end.

On Friday I went through all my things, jammed as much as I could into my knapsack,
and hid it in the closet. The three of us spent that evening quietly staying out of
each other’s way. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, Eddie. You must be at least a little
excited,” Grandma said, trying to break the ice over dinner. “The weatherman says
it might even finally snow!”

Sure it will,
I thought,
it never snows here anymore.

I said nothing.

A few hours later, I decided to sneak downstairs to watch television. I didn’t know
when I would have another chance to watch Johnny Carson, and, besides, I was too worked
up to sleep. As I padded silently across the floor in front of my grandparents’ closed
bedroom door, I heard something. It was late for them to be up. I stopped to listen.
The muted sounds were like what came from the TV when I had the volume down just a
little too far. But it
couldn’t have been a television set I was hearing; they had only one.

My grandmother was saying something in between sobs. My grandfather’s voice was kind
and soothing. I turned around and went back to my room.

The brass clang of the alarm clock woke me from a deep sleep. It took me a minute
to remember where I was and what was going on. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and
looked over at the old windup alarm clock that I’d set for three o’clock. I’d put
a sock on top to muffle the sound. I pushed the lever to stop the hammer and got out
of bed. While it would have been more dramatic to make a rope out of sheets and escape
out the window, I no longer needed drama or a good story to tell my friends. I just
needed out.

I took the sweater from the bottom drawer of my dresser and held it up under my chin.
It would’ve been a perfect fit now. I put the sweater up against the mirror hanging
on the wall, the same mirror that I’d avoided look
ing into for fear of seeing what I’d become. I tucked it in over the top edge and
it hung there, completely covering the glass. Now the old Eddie and my Christmas sweater
could finally be together. I was happy to say good-bye to both of them, and all the
misery they represented, for the very last time.

In spite of my thick winter coat I managed to awkwardly work my shoulders into the
straps of the heavy knapsack. I put on my stocking cap and gloves and walked quietly
down the stairs, taking just one at a time and pausing after each step to let the
creak settle.

I reached the bottom stair, exhaled, and stepped out the front door into the world.