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christmas day, 1995
it wasn’t quite a white christmas.
wet, drizzly and about fifty-eight degrees, a strange humidity to what would usually be a cold east coast christmas day. the lawns were too green in wiskayok, and if it weren’t for the rain and wind, you wouldn’t even need a coat. blinking lights reflected jovially against a new jersey kind of gray sky, and there was a definitive sort of disappointment that had fallen over the town that was usually delayed until at least the day after, where timelessness and that haze of overindulgence clashing with overstimulation plagued living rooms until new years eve. van was always the one asking herself- what day is it now?
year after year, it never seemed to change.
the house wasn’t as horrifying as it usually felt year round, van had gotten a promotion in november and the dream of leaving for college was inching closer and closer each day. after van knocked through a few soul-crushing christmas parties the week before break and jackie’s well-meant but unsuccessful attempt at a blanket making party for charity (natalie had stormed out of the taylor’s living room after jackie had told her she was doing it wrong for the third time), van resigned herself to long shifts at the video store and evenings on the couch, gorging herself on the leftover icing cookies laura lee had brought in as a christmas present. jesus girl may have been the one singular thing keeping van rudely awake on a late-night away game bus ride due to never shutting up about scripture, but goddamn it did she make good cookies. oxymoronic that van nearly swore when she took her first bite.
van had gotten sick of the fifth re-run of a christmas story, and she was back out in the not-snow, tossing her scarf over her shoulder to hurry to the empty stop and shop to pick up whatever the hell her mother asked for, and to rent some christmas tapes that were actually decent.
waving bashfully at the tired looking woman behind the counter that had worked there since van was old enough to buy a stick of chewing gum with her quarter allowance, van lugged a flimsy plastic shopping bag back through the slush and sleet and wiped her shoes on the mat, and put her key in the door. vickie palmer was awake, alive! and standing in the kitchen, mid-sip of coffee. her new boyfriend was keeping her afloat for the next few months, and van could admit to herself she was relieved. at least the couch was hers for a night, her mother would be sober enough to find a way to her own bed
“well.” vickie cleared her throat, placing her mug down on the kitchen island. both van and her mother shared the same tight-lipped polite smile, and van shouldered the tearing plastic bag of tapes and frozen food up onto the counter, bustling busily to avoid unnecessary conversation.
“i figured, since we haven’t had a real christmas in god knows how long.” vickie lit a cigarette, unable to contain a proud smile as she nodded van towards the doorway- a rather misshapen christmas tree sat lopsided in the middle of the living room- bare in some spots, but it was indeed a real tree, the rug covered in leaves and loose pine needles.
van paused mid-step, and wheeled around.
“no shit, look at that. hey- do we even know where the decorations are?” astonished, van cocked her head to the side and studied the strange looking tree, something small fizzling in the pit of her stomach. van had forgotten which year they had actually put up a christmas tree last, sometimes it was a little bit of tinsel, and sometimes a wreath on the door- if vickie remembered, and if van could even be bothered. nothing surprised her anymore, and that was the way it went.
“‘dunno about that one,” vickie waved away a cloud of smoke, with a loose cough. she shrugged, taking another long draw of coffee. as far as vickie was concerned, she had completed her christmas miracle for this year. she didn’t even have to do it herself- her boyfriend had delivered it. she’d bring this up in an argument a few months later when van would try to argue for her boundaries- i do things for you! i got that tree for christmas, don’t tell me i don’t try to provide for you, vanessa! why do you always make me out to be such a villain?
“bill called and said he’d found a tree, and if i wanted him to bring it up in his truck. i said go on ahead, our vannie would put it up for us, wouldn’t she?” vickie’s laugh was hoarse, aged.
“you’ve just gotta find the decorations for it. can’t remember if aunt tiff brought over that box of leftover decorations from your grandma’s house. go look.” vickie was practically shoving van out of the kitchen, and van obliged.
it did sting that van knew exactly how this cycle went. van’s grandmother died almost five years ago, and she knew full well there was no box of decorations in the attic- those pretty little golden birds made of crepe paper and glitter that van’s grandmother would fasten to the tree branches each year- her absolute favorite was a particular stained-glass bauble; when held to the light it cascaded across van’s freckled face in all different colors. unfortunately vickie had thrown them all out, given them away or sold them in an energetic cleaning frenzy after a stint in rehab. van was eleven, she had gone to live with her dad before he passed when she was thirteen. vickie doesn’t remember van crying, rubbing her eyes when she found out her mother had thrown it all out, thrown out too much of her grandmother too soon. she couldn’t tell if she was relieved that her mother was trying, or that if it would just hurt more when she’d think about it a few months down the line. regardless, van did dig out an old cardboard box of loose ornaments that had been stashed away in the overloaded garage. for a few days, this would suffice.
she wished she’d picked up lights at the stop and shop.
dropping the box carefully on the stained living room rug, van winced at the sound of soft glass and rifled through the loose strings of tinsel to find whatever was laying broken at the bottom. vickie sat on the couch, grinning like a cat pleased with its’ dinner. van didn’t have to call her mother scrooge this year, and she could come to school with some sort of answer when asked- hey van, how was your christmas? did you enjoy the holidays?
a christmas story was still running on their old television, and van sighed a long heavy sigh as she sorted ornaments out one by one. back facing the tv, ‘you’ll shoot your eye out, you’ll shoot your eye out’ mimicking the sing-songy tune under her breath.
“look at that, see! your old mom is good for something, huh?” vickie was bright from the couch, as van untangled a long golden string of tree garland. van glanced suspiciously at her mother, who seemed too elated. van quickly realized and continued to decorate, irate.
there was a knock at the door, about fifteen minutes later. once, lightly. and then again, frantic. van dropped the decorations back into the box and rolled up her sleeves, heading out into the hallway.
stood on her doorstep, was a shivering natalie. bony shoulders hunched, her thinning bomber jacket ineffective against the wind, the sun setting quickly behind her. rings around her tired eyes and cold hands, knuckles rubbed red.
van raised an eyebrow. “everything okay?”
“yeah… yeah. i just wanted to say merry christmas.”
“you too… nat, what’s wrong?” van leaned against the doorframe to meet natalie’s eyes.
“can i just come in?” natalie’s tone of voice was nothing short of tragic as van nodded silently, stepping back to invite natalie through.
“i don’t wanna bothe-”
“you’re not. mom somehow got a tree, so i’m putting that up. it’s frozen mozzarella sticks for dinner and potato wedges. you’re welcome to stay,” van blew a lock of hair from her face, gesturing towards the living room grandly.
natalie nodded silently. van knew.
they both traipsed into the living room, natalie trailing behind van like a lost puppy. it was unusual for natalie, as she was always the first one in van’s room, rifling through her tapes and asking her what was for dinner, if they could order pizza, what the homework was and if she could sleep over.
natalie was hollowed out.
“nat’s here to help decorate,” van gestured to the little ghost that stood in the hallway, and gently shook the box of decorations in natalie’s direction, offering natalie a hopeful smile.
“hi, mrs. palmer.”
“hey kiddo, merry christmas.” vickie slurred, stumbling up from the couch to switch the television off. van watched on, warily.
natalie and van shared a momentary glance, as natalie placed an apprehensive hand inside the box, pulling out a silver bauble that reflected her image in a funhouse kaleidoscope.
“put it on the tree, it’s not a mirror.” van joked softly, nudging natalie’s shoulder.
“what the fuck. why is she so happy?” natalie whispered under her breath, eyes wide as vickie trailed into the hallway, out of earshot. van snorted, and shook her head.
“boyfriend.” van gave her answer and their shoulders met, both hunched into wry laughter.
they always laughed in spite of their situation.
van and natalie decorated the tree until the living room grew dark and they couldn’t see each other anymore, and then van lit the table lamp and they continued, stringing garlands around and around and carefully hanging out what sparse baubles and stale candy canes van could find in that cardboard box of wonder. van sang christmas wrapping entirely wrong and out of key, and natalie groaned and pleaded for respite, her response appearing from behind the tree sporting a garland noose.
it was only until the two curled up on the rug below the couch, tapes laid out in a line of elimination to watch first-to-last that van finally started to see natalie crack open, the thought of having to go home tugging at her insides.
“okay, well. we’ve got little women, we’ve got a muppet christmas carol, we’ve got… we’ve got while you were sleeping, how about die hard? a charlie brown christmas?”
cases clicked as van fanned them out in a colorful display, craning her neck around to beam at natalie in the same manner she would sell tapes to the curious renters that meandered past her counter, pointing absently to the new releases and asking which one she would recommend. van spared natalie the twenty five minute spiel.
“the last one. whatever the last one was. the one with snoopy in it,” natalie shrugged, slumping against the couch. she wouldn’t meet van’s eyes.
“okay, seriously. what happened?” van let the tapes clatter her lap dismally, shoulders sinking in defeat.
“mom and i fought again. i’m just mad it’s on christmas,” natalie grumbled, picking at her nails.
“sorry, nat.”
“she gets all fucked up around this time of year. takes it out on me.” natalie waved van off, drawing her knees to her chest.
van understood this, very well.
“can we just watch the movie? the charlie brown one.” natalie pointed to the tv in exasperation, and van hurried to pull the tape from its’ sleeve, feeding it into the vcr.
the two sat in the dark, passing a plate of those really good oven mozzarella sticks back and forth, nat shoveling smiley potato fries into her mouth, eyes glued to the crackling television. ice skating peanuts characters swirled and twirled on the screen, reflecting whites and blues into the dim living room.
van was just happy to be in the company of someone this year. laying under the christmas tree with her best friend, watching charlie brown tapes on the vcr.
natalie softly sank down into the rug, her back slumped against the edge of the couch- eyes heavy. van pulled a blanket to her chin, and natalie slowly drooped onto van’s shoulder, wilting. whether it was meant or not, van didn’t know, but held her upper body still, slowing her breathing to let natalie rest. van closed her eyes and let her head drop slightly- dry, bleached blonde combined with a copper red, the two of them dozing peacefully on the living room rug, the soft jazz of the movie fading in and out.
//
van’s breath caught dead in her throat as the front door swung open with a creak, blinding winter sunlight reflecting against the powder white snow, glimmering in the frozen tree branches. she raised a calloused, gloved hand to shield her face, breath fogging a cloud as she trudged down the cabin steps, careful not to slip and tumble into the pillowy frost. stepping high to carry herself, van glanced over her shoulder to watch natalie stumble out into the cold behind her, cheeks ruddy, caked with soot. the door shut firmly behind them, a rosy-faced lottie appearing in the frozen windowpane, a soft nod and a wave to send them on their way. taissa waited by the door pensively for van’s return.
natalie hoisted an axe sling over her shoulder, and the two of them shuddered against the polar wind, slogging and stumbling through the peaceful afternoon snow. it had to have been one of the shortest days of the year, van felt as if they lived in eternal darkness waiting for the winter to end. it was just a relief that it had stopped blizzarding, and van and natalie could hunt for firewood.
the two walked in silence, furs trailing in the snow behind them as they observed, took in their surroundings. a robin chirped in the distance, and van’s eyes narrowed, reflexes quick. she stopped, lifted her head into the air, eyes darting.
natalie continued on for a few paces and stopped, motioning silently to continue.
“no use. keep it moving,” natalie concluded.
van looked over at natalie like she was weighing her options.
the quiet peace of the forest was disturbed by the rhythmic swing of an axe slicing through frigid air. wood splintered open all over the white pinafore, and van grunted as she bent to load up a stack of freshly chopped branches into the canvas bundle.
natalie swung, and swung, beads of sweat dappling her forehead as she mopped her filthy face with a thick sleeve.
the two worked for about an hour in silence, heave, swing, splinter, throw.
“think we have enough?” van huffed, placing exhausted hands on her hips.
“it’s getting dark, we’ll have trouble getting back if we don’t go now. this will have to do for lot.”
van nodded, wiping her splintered hands. with a heaving breath, she stood to face the horizon, watching the orange sun sink below the silvery canopy above them.
“it’ll keep us for the next few days, i think.”
natalie nodded, straining to drag the makeshift tote full of logs through the clearing. van’s gloves were coated in pine sap, frosty and pungent smelling. it smelled like pine sol if van closed her eyes, smelled like that damn tree in her living room last december.
“i wonder when christmas is?” van said. “it’s gotta be around this time,” van had let it slip, the word they had all been avoiding- christmas, birthdays, holidays- blinking away snowflakes that had begun to rest delicately on her cheeks and eyelashes.
yet again, another year of what month even is it?
natalie dropped her axe, and stared straight ahead, blankly.
natalie had carried that little bag of jackie and planted her, laid her down to rest not if two or three weeks ago in the type of snow she’d only seen on glittered christmas cards shoved through her letterbox. she wondered momentarily if the jackie of another reality was writing embossed letters, and delivering gifts carefully wrapped under her supervision at the macy’s department store in the mall the girls always used to steal from.
she wondered if laura lee was praying, somewhere.
wiskayok baptist, directly across the street from st. mary’s (how ironic) was preparing for the candlelight vigil taking place that evening- a flier tacked to noticeboards, crumpled up on doorsteps, a small column in the morning paper advertising the gathering.
join us in thoughts and prayers for our missing girls and their families at this time of year!
the entire town packed and condensed into pews that creaked with every breath and movement, small tealight candles in paper dixie cups- struggling and stalling through a tearful rendition of how great thou art. mrs. taylor would collapse in the front pew during abide with me, handkerchief wound tightly around her hand.
they would all bow their heads in the darkened church, their classmates snickering into their palms before putting on their very best sadness. the dim flickering candlelight reflecting against the stained glass windows.
heavenly father, we pray for the lives lost in a tragedy so great. we pray for the families of those who have lost friends, sisters, daughters. we pray for the salvation and comfort of the departed, returning safe into your arms, lord.
as van and natalie began their journey back towards the cabin, sunset rapidly approaching- van would stumble in the snow at the cry of a wolf far in the distance, and the two of them would yank and strain to drag the canvas sack, shivering. darkness had fallen as candlelit windows appeared through the pitch black of the trees, small, jagged, emaciated faces appearing restlessly in each pane, piled on top of one another. van took it in for a moment, gnarled tresses of hair sopping wet, adorned with a gentle crown of snowflakes and fallen ice.
it looked like some fucked up, cannibal christmas card.
wish you were here, van thought to herself dryly.
someday soon, we all will be together,
if the fates allow
until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow
so have yourself
a merry little christmas,
now.