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The little town of Hurricane was silent. It was Christmas Eve; families were huddled at home, watching the snow fall as they enjoyed hot cocoa and movies.
Michael Afton hadn’t celebrated Christmas in a very long time. His mother was the sole reason the holiday was ever celebrated in the Afton household. After her passing, his father refused to celebrate. Michael didn’t care much; he was never in the mood for celebrating anyway. But Evan and Elizabeth, when they were old enough, took every opportunity they could to whine about the lack of presents. Yet, their father stood his ground each year.
This year was different, though. Henry was different. Henry celebrated. Henry liked to celebrate.
Michael tried to celebrate. It reminded him too much of his mother. He grew to hate it, eventually.
On the morning of Christmas Eve, Michael slept in. When he woke up, Henry was busy in the kitchen.
“Good morning!” Henry greeted cheerfully from the other side of the room. “You sleep okay? I didn’t want to wake you since you’re on break and all.”
“Yeah, fine,” Michael answered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning. “Thanks. Do you need any help?”
“Thank you, but I think I’m all right. Unless you’d like to hand me those plates. I’d appreciate it a ton!”
Michael obliged. Afterward, he stood across the island, his elbows on the surface and his hands propping his head up.
“What’s all this for?” he asked. “Is there something special going on today, like at your church?”
“Are you kidding? It’s Christmas Eve,” Henry explained. “I thought we could celebrate together, just the two of us. I know it’s nothing special, but you deserve to celebrate Christmas. You’re sixteen now, after all! You don’t have many Christmases as a kid left!”
“Hmm,” Michael hummed thoughtfully. “I got you something. Well, Jeremy helped me, but. . . Hey, don’t look at me like that! We did it before!” He blushed. “But uh, I got it for you. When should I give it to you?”
“Well, as it just so happens, I got something for you too,” Henry said, and winked. Michael’s head snapped up in surprise. Henry had gotten him something? He’d gotten him something? After everything he’d done? Surely, Henry had to be lying.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Henry voiced, a small smile on his face. “Of course I got you something. Just because you’re grounded doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to enjoy Christmas. That’d be horrible!”
“But. . . Why?”
“Well, I love and care about you. Isn’t that enough?” Henry said, not unkindly. Michael shrugged, then nodded, looking down at the surface of the counter.
“I guess so. Thank you.”
“Of course, kiddo. Anyway, we can do whatever you'd like to do. If you want to do it tonight and do all of that now rather than tomorrow, then we can. I’m not opposed either way. We can sleep in tomorrow and hang out if you’d prefer.”
“I think I’d like that better. I want you to have your gift.”
“I want you to have yours, too. Well, then! I guess that’s settled. What would you like me to make for tonight? I’ll do anything, traditional or not.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Anything is okay. Really, Uncle Henry, I don’t mind. As long as it’s with you, it’s all right.”
Henry’s smile widened. He clapped Michael on the shoulder, gentle albeit firm.
“I’m very happy to hear that. Now, are we going to have breakfast or what?”
The day arrived and left, as if within mere minutes. Before Michael knew it, the sun was setting before them, the sky erupting in many shades of oranges and pinks. Snow was falling now, as well. It drifted gracefully to the ground, like it would in a movie. It was the perfect atmosphere for Christmas, Michael thought.
Henry had prepared a decently sized meal for them to celebrate with. Michael had helped a minuscule amount, but according to Henry, it was more than enough.
“Well,” Henry said, admiring all of the work they had done to prepare dinner, “shall we?”
“Sure,” Michael agreed easily. “Can I give you my gift first?”
“If you want to, sure. I don’t see why not.” He grinned.
“Okay.” Michael left the room very briefly, returning moments later with a slip of paper. Wordlessly, he handed it to Henry, his face turning a slight shade of red. He averted his gaze as his uncle observed its contents.
“Mike. . .” Henry said, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. “Mike, this is. . .”
“Do you not like it? I, um—”
“Like it? Mike, I love it. This is so thoughtful. Thank you. Really, this is wonderful. Where did you learn to draw like this?”
“Oh. Um. You know, here and there. I didn’t think it was that good. There’s, um, there’s a note on the back, too. For whenever. You don’t have to read it now. I just, um. . . Yeah.”
“Thanks a ton, Mike. You have no idea how much this means to me. Can I give you a hug?”
“Hmmm,” Michael hummed thoughtfully. “Sure. Yeah.”
Henry wrapped his arms around Michael, then, sniffling like he was crying. A chill ran down his spine. He hated when adults cried around him, but he supposed it was for a good reason this time. Sure enough, when they both pulled away, Henry removed his glasses and wiped at his eyes with his index finger and his thumb. He was smiling.
“You know. . .” he began. “As long as we’re giving gifts, I have one for you as well. . . Let me go get it. I’ll be right back, okay? You wait right here.”
Henry rushed out of the room and returned, similar to how Michael had, only this time, he had a small box in his hands. He handed it to Michael and said, “When I was around your age, my dad gave this to me, and well. . . I thought I would pass it down to you.”
“What?” Michael asked, but Henry only shook his head.
“Look,” he said simply.
Curious, Michael opened the little box. Inside was a very old watch, most likely from the thirties. It was old, yet still cared for, still loved. Michael’s head snapped up and he locked eyes with Henry, who nodded.
“Do you need help getting it on?” he asked.
“Uncle Henry. . . This is too much, I. . .”
“No, it’s not. Here, let me help.”
Henry took the watch and wrapped it around Michael’s thin wrist. He smiled.
“Look at that,” he said, “fits like a glove. It looks great, Mike. I hope you like it.”
“Uncle Henry, I love it. You didn’t have to do this, really. . .”
“It’s my gift to you. I think, if my dad could have met you, he would have wanted you to have it too. It’s perfect for you.”
“Thank you. Seriously, thank you.”
“It’s no problem at all, kiddo. Thank you.”
They exchanged one more quick hug before Henry suggested they eat. But before they could sit down, there was a knock at the door.
“On Christmas Eve?” Henry voiced. “Weird. I’ll go get that, you stay here and take whatever you want.”
Henry walked into the living room, his eyebrow cocked as he opened the front door. In front of him was Jeremy Fitzgerald with a box in his hands, his parents behind him. Jeremy was wearing a green sweater with red and white patterns on it.
“Hi, Mr. Henry,” Jeremy greeted. “Could you give this to Mike? Thanks.”
“Jeremy,” Henry said, puzzled, “why don’t you guys come in? I’m sure Mike would love to see you, wish you a happy holiday. . .”
“Really? But isn’t he—”
“Go,” Jeremy’s mother interrupted sternly. She was still smiling, though.
“Thanks, Mr. Henry,” Jeremy said, wasting no more time at the front door. “Mike!” he yelled, “Mike, c’mere!”
Michael appeared in the doorway, just as dumbfounded as Henry had been moments prior.
“Jeremy? What on earth are you doing here? I’m grounded, remember?”
“I know, but it’s Christmas! You gotta make an exception for that! Anyway, I got you something. Don’t open it until tomorrow! You got that?”
“Oh man, Jem, I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Thank you, thank you. I don’t have anything for you right now, but. . . But I will. Soon. Thank you, Jeremy.”
“Mike, you don’t need to get anything for me. I like giving more than getting, y’know?”
“I know, but. . . I feel bad. If you give me something and I don’t give you something back.”
“Don’t worry about it, dude. Anyway. . . I should get going now. I just wanted to stop by and wish you a merry Christmas. I’ll see you at school after break’s over. Bye, Mike!”
“Bye,” Michael said quietly. “Thank you again, Jere.”
“You know,” Henry said suddenly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “It’s awfully cold, just to come and go like that. . . Are you three doing anything tonight?”
“Not particularly,” Jeremy’s father answered. “We don’t do much on Christmas Eve. Why?”
“If you wanted to, you could stay for a bit. Mike and I were just about to have dinner, and then after that we were probably going to watch some movies. You guys are welcome to join us if you’d like.”
Michael and Jeremy exchanged a glance, then quickly looked back toward the adults, hopeful.
“I’m sure Jeremy would appreciate that. Wouldn’t you, Jeremy?”
“Yeah! Please, Dad? Can we stay?” Jeremy pleaded.
“Ask your mother for me. I don’t see a problem with it.”
Jeremy nodded, then said something in Italian. His mother answered just the same, and he smiled. Michael assumed she had said yes to whatever Jeremy asked her.
“She said yes! Thanks, Mr. Henry!”
“It’s nothing at all,” Henry nodded. “Merry Christmas, guys.”
“Merry Christmas!” Jeremy repeated. “Merry Christmas, Mike!”
“Yeah, you too,” Michael said, half smile on his face.
Eventually, each denizen made their way into the kitchen, where the dinner was laid out. Conversations were had all throughout the night, each one leading into the next. Michael couldn’t help but smile, and even chuckle at times.
Michael never thought he would celebrate Christmas again. After his mother, there was no reason to. But, despite this, he found himself enjoying the holiday once more. Even when Jeremy had to return home, he was still happy.
“Merry Christmas, Mike,” Jeremy smiled.
“Merry Christmas. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“You got it!” Jeremy clapped Michael on the shoulder before turning to leave. And even as Jeremy’s car pulled out of the driveway, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. He had been surrounded by his family, by people who loved and cared about him for the first time in what felt like forever.
Against all odds, it had turned out to be a very merry Christmas for Michael Afton after all.