“Much better now, my love.”
“Still nauseous?”
“No, I actually feel good. I have no idea what that was all about. I’ll get up when you have to go back to work and do some Christmas shopping. I need to pick up the presents for the orphanage, fill my new prescription, and order the turkey.”
Paul nuzzled her neck and said, “I wish we could stay in bed the rest of the day. Like we did last month.”
Carol laughed and pressed herself closer to Paul’s warm body. “We wouldn’t get much rest, I can tell you that.”
“You naughty woman!” He rolled her onto her back and caressed her body under the sheet. “But I can’t, not now. Too much work today, but I’ll be home early,” he whispered in her ear, then kissed the pulse point in her neck and rose. Smiling, he looked down at Carol.
Looking up at Paul, Carol’s cheeks heated as she said, “I’ll be waiting for you, it’s been at least two months since we’ve …” She batted her lashes and continued, “you know.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m glad you’re finally getting back to the old you again. I’ve missed this, us. Not to mention a regular roll in the hay.” He smiled upon seeing her cheeks flush, leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be home as soon as I can get away, baby.” He gave her another kiss and left.
* * *
Carol stood at the counter, waiting for the pharmacist to return with her Xanax. Should I tell John I really thought the tree lived? She shook her head. He might up my medication and I don’t want to turn into a mindless zombie again. Best not tell him I’ve been cutting down on the pills.
After she received her prescription Carol went to the butcher’s to order the turkey, picked up the gifts she ordered for the orphans, and then made a stop at the lingerie department in Saks. She bought a new set, all black lace and silk. Panties, flimsy bra, and hold ups. Smiling she drove home and changed. Just in time before the door opened and Paul came up the stairs. She recognised his jumpy way of climbing the stairs. He’s not done that for too long, and that’s all my fault. No more, it is time to move on.
She sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, slightly leaning back, with a small smile curling her lips and heated cheeks.
“Honey,” Paul said when he entered and stopped mid-stride as he caught an eyeful of her breasts nearly spilling over the half cup of her new outfit. He softly whistled, then cleared his throat before continuing, “You look amazing.”
Carol smiled and rose. “For you, my love, for being patient and for loving me even when I didn’t deserve your love. For putting up with a crazy woman. For waiting when you could have demanded my attention.” She sauntered to him, draped her arms around his neck and reached up to kiss him. Then she pressed herself into him and whispered, “But now that I lust after you again, what are you going to do about it?”
It was more than Paul could withstand. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to their bed. They made love like they’d done when they were newly weds and fell asleep in each other’s arms afterwards.
* * *
The next morning Paul woke up from Carol retching in the bathroom. He rushed over and found her hugging the toilet bowl again.
“Honey, this isn’t normal, I’m calling John. Stay here, I’ll get you a glass of water.” He wiped her face with a clean wash cloth he got from the shelf, then hurried downstairs to make the call. It took him only a few moments, then he held her hair from her face again saying, “John will be here soon. He still doesn’t think it’s anything serious, but he wants to see you anyway.”
When the heaving stopped Carol just wanted to lie down on the cool bathroom floor, but Paul picked her up and carried her back to bed.
“You just lie there until John gets here. I’ll call the office to let them know I won’t be in today.”
“But there’s so much work right before Christmas, you can’t just not go. I’m only puking, it’s not like I’m going to die or anything.”
“I know baby, but I’ll just stay in until we’re sure you don’t need to go into hospital. I don’t want to risk losing you too.” He caressed her face and tucked her in. “Let me get downstairs to wait for John. He said he would come right over. The clinic can do without him he said, you more important.” The moment Paul walked out of the bedroom, the doorbell rang. “See? He’s here already.” And he rushed down.
Paul welcomed their friend. “Hi John, come in. Sorry to drag you away from the clinic, but I’m really worried.” The door closed and both men walked upstairs.
“Does she have any other symptoms? She is eating? Taking her medication?” John asked.
“Yeah, she eats normally after the vomiting stops. But she’s been puking her guts out every morning now for the past days. But nothing else has changed,” Paul said.
Carol rolled to her side, curling up into a little ball. Maybe I should confess I’ve cut down on the Xanax. But when the men entered the bedroom and John asked, “Hi, Carol, what’s going on with you?” She sat up, shrugged, and said, “I don’t know, I’ve been puking my guts out every morning now for at least a week. I think it’s just anxiety for Christmas coming and having a tree in the house and stuff.”
John shook his head. “You shouldn’t be affected like that, not with the Xanax you’re taking. You are taking the pills, are you?” He scrutinised her and waited for her to answer.
She nodded, unable to let the lie pass her lips, instead she asked, “Can it just be a stomach flu?”
“I don’t think so, you’d be vomiting all day if that were the case, and you’d probably also have diarrhea.” He shone a light in her eyes and pinched the skin on the back of her hand. “You’re a bit dehydrated. I’d like to run some tests at the clinic and put you on a drip.” When Carol opened her mouth to protest, he said, “Just one bag of fluid, nothing else. I don’t think there’s anything serious going on. I just want to be sure of something.”
“What?” Paul asked. “Do you think she’s sick? What?”
“Don’t worry. I don’t think it’s deadly, but it will change your lives if it is what I think it is. However, to be sure I need to run those tests. So, put some clothes on and meet me downstairs.” He patted her on the hand and smiled encouragingly before he turned and went down.
“I guess we’re going to the clinic,” Carol said to a stunned Paul. “Oh, don’t be shocked. He just said it’s nothing serious. He probably wants to run some standard tests to make sure he doesn’t miss anything. You know John, he likes to be sure before he says anything.” Carol swung her legs over the edge of the bed and ran to the bathroom, emptying her stomach once again.
* * *
At the clinic the nurse took a blood sample from Carol and she had to produce a urine sample while in bed, hooked up to a bag of IV fluid. Carol and Paul waited in silence, holding each other’s hand.
Only half an hour later John came back with a radiant smile on his face. “I have good news, and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?”
“Give me the bad news first,” Carol said while at the same time Paul uttered, “Good news first.” They both burst out in a nervous giggle.
“Right,” said John. “I’ll give you the bad news first then, because it’s Carol’s body so she should decide.” He looked at her with an encouraging smile. “You are going to have to stop the Xanax, Carol.”
“What!” Paul cried out. “She can’t, she’ll risk having those episodes again.”
“I don’t think she will, because her blood work tells me she’s been off the medication for a while already. Am I right, Carol? And am I also right that you might have small episodes but nothing you can’t handle?”
Carol lowered her gaze and mumbled, “Yes, but I’ve not had any episodes at all.” This time the lie came easy.
“Carol!” Paul said. “What about your conversation with the Christmas tree? Why have you quit taking your medication without telling me, without consulting John? He’s your doctor, our friend!”
 
; “I was sick of being a mindless zombie, Paul. I wanted to feel things again, live, be happy, love you. Please don’t be mad at me.” She looked at her hands, folded in her lap.
Paul sat on the edge of the bed next to her and drew her into his arms. “Of course I’m not mad at you, silly. I’m just worried. I don’t want you to have a breakdown again. Without the medication to level you out, it all might come back at you and you might not be able to relive it again. The death of our boy, Christmas, not being able to have another child. You—”
At that moment John cleared his throat. “I’d like to say something about that. Remember I said I had good news and bad news? Well, with the bad news out of the way, this might be a good moment to give you the good news.” With a radiant smile he looked at Carol. “Carol, you are pregnant.”
Her jaw dropped, Paul’s arms tightened around Carol’s shoulders, and they looked at each other, then turned to gaze at their friend, the doctor who had just given them the Christmas present they could’ve only wished for.
The End
BLEAK CHRISTMAS
Marcy G. Dyer
Strains of “Happy Holidays” drifted through the mall as I walked in. Whoever thought of the term “holiday” for such a bleak time of year? They should be shot on sight for torturing those with no reason for joy.
This was my first Christmas without Robert. How would I survive? All of the last-minute shoppers darted in and out of stores hoping to finish their shopping, and I had no one to shop for. All alone. I needed to get my glasses fixed, so I could burrow under the covers and read until the first of February.
I stepped into the festively decorated Eye Express. If they couldn't fix my glasses today, I would have to resort to a pair of readers, and I really hated pulling my glasses off and on. I wanted my bifocals.
“Excuse me,” I said to the gum-popping teenager behind the counter.
She turned around, the phone cradled to her ear and whispered, “Just a minute.”
I waited. How long would this child make me wait? I toyed with my glasses. My life resembled those twisted and broken frames. I had to have some semblance of control—even if was just getting a pair of glasses fixed. Growing impatient, I drummed my fingers on the counter and cleared my throat.
The teen continued to listen to someone on the other end of the phone line. Probably her boyfriend. She couldn't even be bothered to take the time to wait on a customer.
I cleared my throat again. “Excuse me.” I pulled out my glasses and cleared my throat louder this time.
Holding up her index finger, she mouthed, “Just a minute, please.”
She did not just stick her finger up at me. I gritted my teeth to keep from reaching across the counter and teaching the brat a few manners. The longer I lived on this miserable, despicable planet, the more I despised it. Teenagers with no respect or manners. Rude drivers.
Finally, she hung up. Shaking her head, she picked up my glasses. “Wow, I ain’t never seen glasses that mangled.”
I narrowed my eyes and glared at her. “And I’ve never heard language that mangled.” The brat couldn't even speak English. Good grief how did she get this job?
Her face flushed. “Sorry.”
I waved off her apology, “Never mind. Can you fix them?”
She nodded. “Our technician will be here next week.”
“Next week!” I yelled. Why were they open if they couldn't do anything? “I need them today.” I scowled.
Teeny Bopper exploded with laughter.
“Young lady, what is so funny?” My neck and face grew hot. Wasn't it enough that I had to deal with Christmas? Now must I put up with a giggling little imp?
“Sorry.” She crinkled her eyebrows at me. “I thought you were joking. Do I look like I can fix them?”
My voice rose with each word. “I need my glasses. Why would I joke about it?” What good was this child if she couldn't even help? Why had customer service become a thing of the past? I hated reading glasses, but it looked like I didn't have much choice. At least I could hide out and read some thrillers or sci-fi books on my Kindle until the so-called joyous holiday passed.
The girl's eyes grew wide, and she turned her hands palm up. “Lady, it’s Christmas Eve.” She blinked a few times. "You can leave them, and I'll ask the tech to put a rush on them first thing Monday."
“I don’t care what day it is. I. Need. To. See.” Why didn't she understand?
She shrugged. “I’m the only one here . . .”
“Then by all means, why would they leave an incompetent, little twit like you in charge?”
Teeny Bopper looked at me, tears threatening to spill. Her bottom lip trembled, and she sucked in a couple of short breaths.
Great. I'd just been a royal butt to a teenager. I didn't mean to make her cry. It wasn't her fault I hated my life, and I really hated Christmas. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, wishing I could disappear.
I turned to leave before I said anything else I would regret. Once I got to the house—I refused to call it a home anymore—I'd go to bed and bury my head under the covers. Maybe, if I were lucky, I wouldn't wake up.
“Ma’am?”
I sighed as I turned back. “Yes?”
“Would you go to the evening church service with me?” The girl nibbled her lower lip and fidgeted.
Flabbergasted, I asked, “Why would you invite me to church?”
“I wasn’t trying to offend you.” She scuffed her shoe across the floor. "I'm sorry."
“You didn’t”—Okay maybe you did—“but I don’t know why you would invite me after the ugly things I said.”
Teeny Bopper raised her eyebrows. “I dunno. You seem lonely, and I’d hate for you to spend Christmas Eve alone.” She grabbed a pen and paper off the counter. “I’m Jenny. Here’s the church address. If you decide to come.”
“Thanks.” My voice squeaked out over the lump in my throat. I stuck the paper in my coat and walked out. Remorse for my hateful words washed over me. What had gotten into me? I couldn't even act civil to a child.
At home Robert’s empty recliner loomed before me, and fiery tears seared my eyelids. I crawled into his chair, my heart aching for him to hold me. As I snuggled under the soft throw that he kept draped over the back, the scent of his aftershave wafted up bringing memories of happier times with it.
My heart lurched. I couldn't do this. Life. It was too much without Robert. Grief tightened its grip on my chest making it difficult to breath. Why did everything have to remind me of our life together? And why did Robert leave me? This wasn't fair. I pummeled the arm of the recliner with my clenched fist.
Pain washed over me, and I let the tears flow. After a few minutes of self-pity, I dried my eyes and decided to take Jenny up on her offer. Anything would be better than wallowing in despair over something I couldn't change.
I arrived just before six and stood at the back of the church. This was the first time I had been in a church since Robert’s funeral, and the memories flooded back. I turned to leave, when I felt a hand on my arm.
“Ma’am?
I turned back and saw Jenny. “Hi. Please call me Gabby,” I said as I blinked the tears back. It was too late to leave, so I needed to suck it up, or I'd be a big blubbering mess by the time the service started.
“Yes, ma’am.” She took my arm led me toward the front, where she introduced me to her parents, Jeff and Helen Cotheran.
After the service, Helen took my hand. “Gabby, we're so glad you came tonight. Please come to our home for dinner.”
“I…thank you, but I really should get back to the house.” Back to nothing but walls and anguish.
Helen stared at me for several seconds. “Please. We always have a crowd, but I know Jenny would love for you to come.”
After blinking back tears, I nodded. “Thank you, Helen. I will.” I couldn't believe Jenny's kindness when I'd been so hateful. My rude behavior embarrassed me. And to such sweet kid.
“Gabby, may I ride with you to show the way?” Jenny asked.
“Sure.” I noticed her beauty for the first time, and a huge lump lodged in my heart. Robert and I had always wanted children. Her brown hair and blue eyes reminded of Robert. I always hoped our kids would have his coloring.
We walked out to the parking lot, and I clicked the lock on my car. Just looking at the beautiful red Porsche lodged a dagger into my heart.
As we slid into the sports car, Jenny smiled and her blue eyes danced. “Wow, what a cool car.”
“Thank you.” I swallowed and with a raspy voice replied, “It was an anniversary present from my husband.”
“You’re married?”
I took a deep breath. “I was.” Now there’s a gaping hole where my heart used to be.
“Divorce must be hard.”
“He . . .” I blinked back tears. “He died,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry. How?”
“On his way to a meeting, a drunk driver hit him.” The newspaper photos of the accident flashed before my eyes. I could still see him laughing the day he gave me the keys to the car.
Jenny sucked in a breath. “When?”
Tears streamed down my face in full force now. “August.”
Jenny pulled a tissue out of her purse and handed it to me. “I’m sorry.”
By the time we arrived at the Cotheran home, I'd corralled my tears and dried my face. Hopefully I didn't look like Rudolf.
The Cotheran family spent most of the night laughing and telling jokes on one another. Being with them comforted me, and I found myself thinking how much Robert would have liked them. I felt cheated losing him at such a young age.
I sat by Helen and watched Jenny play with the younger kids. Her kind heart showed in her face. “Helen, Jenny is special. Christmas…it's hard, and I wasn’t nice to her, but she still reached out to me.”
Helen smiled. “Thank you. I think having dyslexia makes her more patient and forgiving.”
My stomach plummeted. Wrapped up in my own pain, I said mean things to a sweet girl who had difficulties of her own.
Jenny walked up. “Gabby, will you come to church again?”