MAXIMUS

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning the cooler.”

“That is apparent …why are you doing so?”

“So I can put the turkey in it overnight.”

“The turkey?  I thought your intention was to cook it not drown it.”  She turned and gave me a look over her shoulder that bespoke her patience whilst she explained.  The look bespoke “Fuckwit,” but the word did not emerge.  That is a term new to me since meeting Cassandra, but is most descriptive and, on occasion, appropriate.

“I’m going to brine the turkey …soak it in salt water until about an hour before I put it in the oven tomorrow.”  Why would she wish to do that?  Brine is used for pickling; even an ancient Roman such as I knows that.

“May I ask why?”

“Because it makes it moister – turkey tends to be dry – and more flavourful.”  Ah.  How silly of me not to have discerned that ….

“May I assist you in any way?”

“Sure.  Go get out of your nice jeans and that shirt and put on those faded, ratty old jeans with the knees worn out and the t-shirt you wore when you put the battery in my car, then come back.”  I complied as regards the change of clothing and presented myself for duty.  I was handed a bottle of bleach and a sponge.

“Wash out the inside of the cooler with the bleach to be sure it’s clean.  Rinse it for at least ten minutes, then turn it upside down in the tub and let it drain.  I’ll be back.” 

“Where are you going?”

“To wrap a couple of Christmas gifts.”

“For whom?”

“Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies.”  If Father Christmas truly left lumps of coal for naughty or impertinent children, she would be risking a train from Newcastle.  As I splashed about with the bleach I realised why she had instructed me to change clothes.  There were now wet splotches on both my jeans and my shirt …the one with the holes from battery acid from the aforementioned battery-changing experience with her car.  Along with the holes in my clothing, I would now have pale blotches.  I rinsed dutifully for the requisite ten minutes and upended the cooler in the bathroom to drain.  I walked into the lounge to find her happily affixing bows to two gifts.  I leaned over to look at the tags …the intended recipient of both parcels was I.  I admit to a childish surge of delight.  I may be a Stoic, but I enjoy a surprise as much as any other.  She stood, taking the hand I held out to assist her to her feet, and carried the gifts to the tree, placing them under it with the growing mountain of brightly coloured packages.  From looking at the largesse under the tree, one would have thought we had half a dozen children, a thought that appealed to me greatly. 

Ten days before Christmas

REAGAN

I adore Christmas.  For me it’s the happiest time of year because it’s so much fun to watch the people I love open their presents.  This would be our first Christmas together – Maximus and me – and watching him get into the spirit of the season was a delight.  He had embraced the entire concept, and we’d had a wonderful time shopping for gifts for our quasi-family …Dee and Terry, Dino, Sooze and Dolores and Sarah, the nanny.  All would be here by ten-thirty on Christmas morning, and we would open our packages together, but for the personal ones all of us would open at home. 

I was doing the turkey and cranberry sauce – I have a recipe I’ve developed over the years as I can’t abide that crap that comes in cans – a butternut squash casserole and a spinach, strawberry, and Mandarin orange vinaigrette.  Dee was bringing the dressing, and Sooze had volunteered for pie duty.  Dino was bringing the various wines that would accompany the hors d’oeuvres, the main course, and dessert; this fully utilized his gadfly persona as he checked with each group to be sure of the wine compatibility.  He so adores Delores; he made sure she had her own non-alcoholic change of wine to accompany each of the adults'. 

Terry initially had his feelings a bit wounded as he wasn’t contributing anything to the meal.  Let me go back through our conversation on the phone.

“What can I bring, Love?”

“Dee and your sweet self.”

“I meant what can I bring in the way of food, Reags.”

“Can’t think of a thing, Terry.  You can taste the dressing for sage for Dee.  Why?  Do you want to bring something?”  The tone in his voice said ‘Yes, Yes, Yes,’ even more than his words.

“Sure.  I’m a good cook.  Tell me what I can make.”

“Are you sure, Terry?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“Okey dokey …bring us a Christmas Pudding …a REAL Christmas Pudding.”  He laughed.

“You’re betting I can’t sort that out, aren’t you?”

“Never occurred to me that you couldn’t.”  I had my fingers crossed on that one.  My mom always told me one could go to Hell just as quickly for lying as for stealing.  In truth, I didn’t think he could pull it off, but I knew he couldn’t resist the challenge.

“Done then.    Of course if it’s going to soak properly, I’ll have to start it tonight.  Anything else?”

“Nope.  Just the pudding.  You bring that, and I’ll make the hard sauce.”

“See you Sunday at ten.”

I knew there would be a shopping trip after that conversation as Dee didn’t have a plum pudding pan, and she certainly didn’t have the requisite trinkets that are baked into the pudding.  Fortunately, I knew that Terry would know what sort of baking tin he needed for the pudding and what sort of trinkets to buy.  Watching the eyes of the uninitiated dilate at the ‘fortunes’ resulting from the various trinkets found in their respective slices of pudding should be a hoot.  I could already see Dee shaking her head at me.  The phone call from her came about an hour later.

“What’s this Christmas Pudding bit?”

“Terry asked what sort of contribution he could make to the meal.”

“Did you have to encourage him?”  I laughed.  “He just walked in the door and is dragging me back out to go shopping.  Williams-Sonoma has the tin, and then we’re off to Michael’s to find the stupid trinkets.  God knows where we will find the obscure ingredients.”  As I said, this was going to be entertaining.  She called again three hours later.

“Do you realise that this stuff has BEEF SUET in it?”

“Yes.”

“And sultanas?  What the hell is a sultana?”  By that time I’d put her on the speaker phone so that at least Maximus would know why I was laughing.  “He’s chopping beef fat on my island!  And these fucking trinkets …he’s bought 50.  I thought we were having eight for Christmas ….”  I cut her off.

“Calm down, Dee.”

“But we’re going to be up all night!  And he insisted on using fresh nutmeg and bought a nutmeg grater.  I have to find a place to store it so that I can find it again NEXT Christmas!  He says this is the start of a Christmas tradition for us.  There’s a loaf of bread drying in the oven right now so that he has the stale bread.  Well, I suppose if it’s going to be a tradition, next year I won’t have to …  Oh shit.  I said ‘next year.’  Deep breaths required.  At least next year I can buy the bread a month early, and let it get stale all on its own rather than drying it in the oven.”  I laughed, and Maximus grinned.

“Yeah, Honey, you said next year.”  As I hung up, I heard Terry’s ‘You said NEXT YEAR!’ followed by his laugh and what sounded amazingly like sloppy, wet kisses being lavished on my dearest friend.  Yes, once they finish the pudding they will be up all night …well, Terry will be up all night ….

Christmas Eve

DINO

I’d made my list and checked it twice …lots of naughties and no nices.  Hell, I’ve never wanted friends who were nice because they’re no fucking fun.  I’d made the run to Marty's to pick up my order and had the wine for tomorrow in Baby.  The presents were in bags by the door to avoid having the Spyder broken into overnight.  Besides, I kind of liked looking over at them.  This would be the first real Christmas I’d had with people I loved since I’d left North Carolina.  I had gifts for Tio and Dee, Max and Reags, Sooze and Dolores, and of course, Sarah, the real life incarnation of Mary Poppins.  We were all due at Max and Reags’ by ten-thirty tomorrow, so I could sleep in and still be on time. 

All of us – Tio and Dee, Max and Reags and me – had initially been stumped on what to get for Dolores.  What the hell do you get a 13-year-old kid other than a gift certificate when you have no idea what kids today like?  Dee came up with the idea …we all chipped in and got her an i-Pod and a $50 gift certificate for i-Tunes.  Sooze was another challenge.  Like a fool, I’d waited until Christmas Eve to shop and had no fucking clue.  I was driving into my parking place earlier in the week and saw her getting out of her car …a 2003 Toyota Camry that really could have used a wash job, and it hit me.  When I got into the office I’d called the Toyota dealership on 183 in Grand Prairie where she lives and set up a year’s worth of maintenance and washing/detailing every two weeks for her.  They’d even make the trip into downtown Dallas and pick up the car, take it back and clean it up, and return it to the office in time for her to go home. 

Dee and Reags were easy.  They both love to cook, and by now I’d been in both houses and had a chance to check out their cookbook shelves.  I’d gone online to Amazon and found what looked like a really good Australian cookbook for Dee and found a new Mrs. Beeton’s for Reags.  I didn’t even have to wrap those …thank you, Amazon.  That left Max and Tio.  I’d kidded Maximus at one point when the three of us were actively working out at the gym, saying that I bet working out was harder in his day – at least doing so without a groin pull when lifting weights – because the Romans didn’t have jock straps.  He’d turned to me, totally serious, and assured me that they did.  Okay.  I went back online and Googled Roman clothing.  Son of a bitch …there it was.  I’d downloaded the photo and printed it out, then asked Dee who her saddle maker was.  Paid him a visit, and after he stopped laughing, he said, yeah, he could make that up.

Tio was a problem for real.  In the past I’d given him shit like edible thongs for the next boys’ night out on one of our trips, but that wasn’t funny this year.  I’d been flipping through the cookbooks I got for Dee and Reags, and it hit me.  He liked to cook, and I knew that somewhere out there a cookbook existed that was both Texas and funny.  Amazon was still my friend, and I found one by Jeff Foxworthy entitled ‘The Redneck Cookbook – AKA, The Redneck Grill.’  Until this fall, I’d always figured Tio would eventually pull out of Dallas and open a branch office in Sydney in a few years.  There had been nothing holding him here, and Sydney was home as well as being a hell of a lot closer to his share of the action.  Obviously, that had all changed, and I figured I’d be opening the Sydney branch sooner than Terry would.  So, since he was obviously staying here, I figured the funny but useful barbque cookbook would work.

I had to get things for all the dogs; I got Okie a muzzle and Christmas collars for Holly and Max and Reags’ three pups.  Okie’s muzzle was festive enough – red and green with snowflakes – but it would still keep the little fucker from grabbing food when he jumped up on the table the next time …I’d heard about him doing that on the Fourth of July from Max.  It was 1600 on Christmas Eve, and all my shopping – online and local – was done.  For the first time in my adult life I had absolutely no desire to hit one of the gentlemen’s clubs, my usual Christmas Even haunt …and I was lonely.  I picked up the phone and hit speed dial, smiling when Sooze answered. 

“Hey, Honey.  You got anything you need put together for Dolores before tomorrow morning?”

TERRY

Traditions.  Everyone has Christmas traditions, right?  Got a news flash for you.  I don’t, at least none of my own.  Sure, when I was a nipper my family had traditions, but once a man marries, he usually slips into whatever traditions his wife’s family observe.  That didn’t last long either.  By the time Marjorie’s and my first Christmas rolled round, the bloom was off that particular rose.  She was also eight months preggers, and nothing I did was right.  Christmas Eve and Day with her family had been a bloody nightmare, and after that I’d refused to go with her.  I’d also dug in my heels and kept Henry home with me – assuming I wasn’t on duty – on Christmas Eve if she went to the rellies.  I’d let him go with her on Christmas Day but had truly enjoyed having the night before at home with my son.  I suppose my fondest memories of Henry’s childhood are wrapped up in those nights. 

So, having no real traditions of my own to celebrate, I’d looked to Diana for what she wanted to do.  Seems she had a tradition of going out early on Christmas Eve and braving the ravening mob to buy stocking stuffers.  Wish she told me that earlier, as mine were already tucked into my kit in the back of our closet.  Still, as she waltzed out the door, I had followed and drove down the road in the opposite direction from her and came back to the house. 

I had doubled up on the brandy purchase for the pudding as each time the pudding had gotten soaked, so had Diana and I.  Next Christmas Eve morning, we will anoint the pudding a last time together.  One of my things to do was pour more brandy on the Christmas pudding – I suppose that’s a tradition in the making – and did that, then settled back with another cup of coffee and just watched the fire crackling in the fireplace.  I had the feeling that whatever traditions Diana had, I’d be able to slide into easily, just as I’d slid so easily into her arms.  I knew we were having dinner with Nancy and Bill so that counted as a tradition.  I’d have to wait until she returned home to learn the rest of hers.  She came breezing in the door at 1400 and declared preparations for Christmas officially over.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I heard Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer one too many times and almost slapped the lady who wished me Merry Christmas.  Everything that needs to be done is done, and if it hasn’t been done yet, then it doesn’t need doing.”  She dropped her shopping bag by the couch and walked to the kitchen, took the eggnog from the refrigerator and the brandy bottle from the island and made eggnogs for us.  She grabbed the phone and hit Nancy’s speed dial, talking to her whilst she prepared the eggnogs. 

“Nancy, are you ready to declare Christmas done?  I am.  I think I forgot to dust, but whatever.  Christmas prep is over.”

I walked over to join her and to hear what I could of Nancy's answer.  I couldn't.

Diana addressed her next question to me.  “Have you eaten yet today?”  I had but not a proper meal. 

“No,” with a giggle.

“Yep, Nancy, we can go right after I feed.  We'll be down to get you guys about 6:15.  See you then.”

She handed me my glass with a relieved smile.  Christmas this year had been different for her.  A bloke in the house had caused her life to get turned arse-over-teakettle.  She had seemed to enjoy it, but from the dust on the boxes, she had not done much decorating in the last few years. 

“Does this count as a tradition?”  If we are establishing a life together, I need to know what to expect in the future.  It has a very nice sound to it. 

“What?  Eggnog?”

“Egg nog at,” I looked at my watch, “1407 hours on Christmas Eve.”

“Sure!  Somewhere between noon and five works.”  She raised her glass to me, and I met it.

“Cheers, Mate!”   She uses my traditional toast as easily as I these days.  

I looked at her.  “If I wish you Happy Christmas, am I going to get slapped?”

“No, because you’re not trying to sell me something.” 

I raised an eyebrow at her.  “Oh, yes I am ….” 

We drank down the eggnogs, and she took my hand.  “Come outside and help me climb a tree.”

“Tree-climbing is a Christmas Eve tradition?  Okay.”

“Mistletoe, Terry.  I have to climb up in the tree to harvest fresh mistletoe.”

“Well, then.  Let me assist you up the tree.”  I pulled on my coat and trailed her out the door.  Forty degrees Fahrenheit, and Diana is in short sleeves.  The tree was in the front yard, and I boosted her up, laughing at her hissed “Stop that!” when she felt my hand on her bum.  She hopped down a few seconds later, and when I kissed her in the yard whilst holding the mistletoe over our heads, we laughed at the hoots of the neighbours’ kids out playing in the street.  Back in the house I shucked my coat, and I rubbed her arms.

“Now, about what I was trying to sell you earlier …and I’ll even put the mistletoe on the ceiling fan lamp first if you like.”  She grinned at me.

“Sold!”

MAXIMUS

She was dressing for the holiday open house at her dean’s that was to begin in an hour.  I was ready and waiting on her.

“Would you rather not attend this party?  We can make some polite excuse if you wish.”

“No, I don’t mind going.  It’s a nice group of people and you need to meet them.  The problem is that they’re going to like you so much that we’re going to have a difficult time getting out of there.”

“We must leave no later than six-thirty, if that gives you comfort.”

“We ‘must?’  Why ‘must’ we?”

“I have reservations for the seven o’clock seating for dinner at the Bistro at the Adolphus.  We must leave by six-thirty if we are not to be late.”   She had just turned to have me zip her dress and immediately looked down at it.  “You are dressed perfectly well for dinner at The Bistro.  Come now …the earlier we arrive, the earlier we can make our exit.”  She picked up her bag, and I draped her coat over her shoulders, and we departed.

“Reagan, we’re so happy you could join us …and this must be your fiancé.”  Cassandra turned to me and smiled then looked back at her Dean.

“Beverly, let me introduce you to Max Espan.  Max, this is Beverly Williamson, the dean of the College of Social Sciences.”  She had extended her hand, and I took it, shaking it firmly.  She had a firmer grip than most women, very similar to that of both Cassandra and Diana.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Dean Williamson.”

“Please call me Beverly.”

“It would be my pleasure, and you must call me Max.” 

“Come and let me introduce you to my husband and our other guests.”  I left Cassandra chatting with a colleague and made the round of introductions, all of which began with ‘This is Reagan’s fiancé.’  I wondered if once we were married if I would be introduced as Mr. Kavanagh.  I heard numerous comments regarding Cassandra’s ring and got more than a few scarcely veiled hostile looks from various husbands.  Fortunately, Cassandra had warned me of that likelihood, and I ignored them.  We mingled for an hour and then, giving the excuse of needing to leave lest we miss our reservation for dinner, left by five-thirty.  She smiled smugly when we got into the car.

“Oh good …now we have time to enjoy a drink before dinner.”  Less than half-an-hour later, I pulled into the car park at the Adolphus and gave the keys to the valet attendant as we walked inside.  The lobby was a winter fairly land of decorations.  Mock snow, reindeer, sleighs, and a huge tree in the lobby.  Under the tree were literally hundreds of gifts and I leant down to Cassandra.

“Do they give gifts to all their employees?”  She shook her head.

“Those are empty boxes and just for decoration.  Employees at a certain level and above will receive Christmas bonuses in the form of a check.  The rest will just get a ‘Merry Christmas’ as they walk out the door tonight.”  I considered that.

“That seems inequitable.”  She nodded at me.

“Welcome to corporate America.”  We enjoyed a lovely dinner and were home shortly after ten.  We changed out of our evening clothes and into warm slacks and sweaters and went back to the car.  Given that we were to be married in the foreseeable future, we had deemed it appropriate to begin visiting various Churches in hope of locating one suitable for both the size and style of our wedding.  I had succeeded in convincing Cassandra that I wished for a Church wedding, and she had given in.  On this night we would be attending midnight Mass at St. Stephen’s Anglican Catholic Church in Richardson, some 25 miles away.  As we had not been there previously, I felt it best to leave early, and Cassandra had assured me the priest would not object to our sitting quietly in the sanctuary until the service began at midnight.

The church was beautiful, with what I learnt were the Stations of the Cross depicting the Crucifixion all round the walls.  I fail to understand why anyone one – religious or not – would glorify what must surely be mankind’s most cruel form of death.  I looked round briefly then confined my gaze elsewhere.  Given the events of my former life, I could not appreciate them as holy objects when I knew what they represented were anything but that.  I do understand that, today, the death of the Christ and all surrounding it is worshipped by Christians but I am a man of my time and my view of it is vastly different than that of the modern world.

The service was indeed beautiful and the music uplifting.  I had never heard Handel’s Messiah, and it was stirring to the soul.  I saw tears in my Cara’s eyes as she listened to the voices praising her God.

DIANA

Dinner with Bill and Nancy was pleasant if a shade more upscale than normal for the three of us.  Bill looked in awe of riding in the Jag.  He kept repeating, “This is Christmas enough for me.”  Nancy had made sure Bill was in his version of sartorial splendor – his Sunday go to meeting suit; he looked quite uncomfortable. 

Some men look good in jeans and a T shirt; others look best in suits; then others can carry off a tux with aplomb but look like crap in anything else.  Terry is one of the few men I know who looks great no matter what he is wearing.  Bill seemed grateful when we got to the restaurant, and Terry pulled his tie off as he left the valet stand.  Bill couldn't get his own off fast enough.  I am amazed at how easy it is for Terry to make people comfortable without even trying.

Patrizio's filled up after we started eating, and the din eventually made it impossible for us to hear each other.  Nancy, Bill and I were trading off telling Terry about the Christmas Eve when I had unthinkingly stuck the entire bill in my purse and left the restaurant.  When one of us started laughing too hard to talk anymore, the next picked up the tale.  Eventually, he heard the whole story.

“You were carrying a purse?”  Terry's astonishment was quite a sight.  “You never carry one.  If it doesn't fit in your pocket, it doesn't come along.”

 “I got rid of those pants because they didn't have pockets.  I didn't think the Dallas restaurant industry could take many of those mistakes.”

“And God forbid, she let us pick up the check,” Nancy interjected.

Terry finished signing the check.  “Bill, my shout.  Next year you get to pick up the tab.  Sound fair?”

Bill shook his head.  “Nancy, sounds like we have another one on our hands.  You know as well as I do, that next year, Terry will conveniently forget that it's our treat.  Thanks for dinner, Terry.”

Nancy kissed Terry on the cheek thanking him as well.  “Dee, you have a keeper here.”

When we got home from dinner, I popped the dressing in the oven and made up a Thermos of stiff eggnog.  I got two plastic glasses from the cupboard; not elegant but ultimately practical for the barn.

I started unbuttoning a very willing man's shirt.  “Change into your barn clothes unless you want to get horse hair on your suit; we're going to the barn for midnight services.”

“I should have suspected we would have our own manger scene.”

The four of us walked into the cold, crisp night – Terry, Okie, Holly and I.  Our feet crunched the frozen grass; it was the only sound to be heard.  We two humans finally gave up on trying to keep the two dogs separate on their leashes and let them intertwine.  It was easier to get them to the confines of the barn that way.  Once in, I would let Rabbit out to wander the aisle way and let the dogs off lead to do what they wanted.

While the outside air was cold, the horses were quite comfortable in the barn; all the body heat they generate keeps the barn warm even without their blankets.  Once released, Rabbit ambled about greeting his barn mates, or so the other horses believed; he was actually looking to snatch a mouthful of hay.  Holly and he touched noses in greeting; Okie backed up to us for protection. 

Terry and I stood with our arms wrapped around each other enjoying the quiet and each other.  It was an island of peace after all the hustle preceding the holiday and the madhouse tomorrow.  We have such an easy relationship.  Well, easy in that I just enjoy being with him.  My feelings for him are so deep that I don't think I could explain them in words to him at least not simply; it would take me talking for hours before I could even begin to synthesize – much less verbalize - what I feel for him.  I try to show him instead how much he means to me.  I don't know if I succeed terribly often, but I do try. 

“I gave up on organized religion so long ago.  So many of the people that I met in church were so judgemental.  I didn't need or want any more of that.”

Terry kissed my temple. I really couldn't call it a kiss; he put his lips on my temple and spoke.  “You didn't deserve it, either; no one does.”  He poured one glass of the nog and handed it to me.  I took a drink and handed it back to him.  I have no idea why I brought two glasses; the second one was not needed as we were passing the glass back and forth between us. 

“And when will services be starting?  Will there be singing?”  Terry, the apparent optimist, kept me from reliving a pain.

“At midnight, the animals talk.  Well, speak actually.  They talk all the time if you pay attention.  The story is that as thanks for keeping watch at Jesus' birth, once a year at midnight Christmas Eve, animals get to speak so that humans can understand the words.  So far none of mine have taken advantage of the blessing.”

Terry wiped the tear that had leaked from the outer corner of my eye.  “They don't have to talk.  You take care of their needs almost before they know have them.  Just as you do mine.”  He addressed the interested assembly.  “Would a thank you at midnight be too much to ask?” laughing at them.  “Perhaps they have not had the concept properly explained to them.”

He scooped up a shivering Basenji, stuck him under his coat wrapping a strong arm under his butt.  “Could I have a swig of the nog?  I don't seem to have a hand free.”  Oh good; he wasn't going to release his arm from around my shoulders for something so mundane as a nog.  I held the glass to his mouth, managing to get at least a little liquid in.

And in the quiet night Terry Thorne told the assembled beasts the Christmas story.  “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.”

Christmas Day 2005

DOLORES

This is way cool …Uncle Terry, Uncle Max, and Uncle Dino and now Terry and Max have girlfriends.  I don’t know who decided what to get me from all of them for Christmas, but I’ll love them forever.  They got me an i-Pod and a $50 gift certificate for i-Tunes.  Mom would NEVER have done that, and this is just so cool.  Uncle Max and Auntie Reagan – she said I can call her ‘auntie’ since they’re getting married next year, but I don’t know what to call Terry’s girlfriend.  They’re not engaged or anything so I can’t really call her 'auntie.'  Mom and Auntie Reagan call her Dee and so does Uncle Dino, but Uncle Max and Uncle Terry both call her Diana.  I guess I could just ask her what she wants me to call her.  She’s really nice and funny.  Auntie Reagan is nice, too, but she’s a lot more ‘proper’ than Dee.  Yeah, I’m gonna call her Dee.  Majority rules, just like always!

And she’s got horses!  Dee does, that is, and she said she’d teach me to ride …totally bonzer if you ask me.  She’s also got dogs, and so do Auntie Reagan and Uncle Max.  I’d love to have a puppy, but Mom’s really cranky about what kind.  Auntie Reagan says Golden Retrievers can live anywhere and do really well in apartments if you just remember to take them walking or jogging a couple of times a day.  These dogs are really nice, too, even if Bear did lick all over my face and take off most of my make-up.  Oopsie poopsie!  Maybe I wasn’t supposed to tell that.  Auntie Reagan got me make-up for Christmas.  Not stuff like my Mom wears, but blush and lipstick and Mom said I could wear it today.  She won’t let me wear it to school, though, but did let me go to the loo here at Uncle Max’s and put it on for today.  Even if I did, Sister Theresa would probably send me to the loo to scrub it off.  She’s such a nong, but I guess all nuns are, aren’t they?

Dee got me the British Horse Society Blue Book – she calls it the BHS – and said it’s like the Bible for people who ride.  She said I had to read it from cover to cover before my first lesson, so I will even though it looks totally boring.  Of course, if she’s willing to teach me to ride, I’ll read the book.  When I opened it I guess I didn’t look really happy, but Uncle Terry said that I’ll be glad I’ve read it when I get to be around Dee’s horses the first time.  I like reading, but well, you know, I do so much of that in school that I don’t read much other than that.  Uncle Max told me I’d better get used to reading because from now on I’ll probably get books from Auntie Reagan being that she’s a teacher and all.  Oh, well …never turn down a pressie!  Mom kinda frowns sometimes when I use words I’ve learned from Uncle Terry, but I just love ‘Strine and I really love Uncle Terry, but I do wish he didn’t smoke.  I haven’t kissed a boy yet, but I’ll bet kissing one who smokes would be really nasty.  Dee doesn’t seem to mind it, so maybe it’s not that bad.  Auntie Reagan smokes, and I know Uncle Max kisses her and he doesn’t smoke.  Guess I’ll just have to find out for myself.  I like Dee, but I wish I was old enough to be Uncle Terry’s girlfriend.  Of course, Mom would probably have a tanty if she ever heard me say that.  But he’s just really cute and has the longest eyelashes …so does Uncle Max.  Mom always says that men get all the breaks, and Uncle Terry’s and Uncle Max’s eyelashes sure seem to prove that.  We were almost done opening pressies when Auntie Reagan picked up one and handed it to Uncle Max.  He read the label.

“Max from Dino,” and started to tear the paper.  Uncle Dino jumped up and grabbed it and kinda jerked his head toward Auntie Reagan’s bedroom and told Max and Uncle Terry to follow him.  The door closed behind them, and a minute later there were these shouts of laughter coming through the door.  Mom, Dee, Sarah, and Auntie Reagan all looked at each other, and Auntie Reagan’s eyebrow went up – I love how she does that – and I just know they’ll find out what it was …and they will never in a million years tell me.  I hate grown-up secrets!  I AM almost grown up after all, and they should give me a little respect.  Maybe I can talk Auntie Reagan into telling me later.  As if.  Auntie Reagan just called Uncle Max into the kitchen to take the turkey to the table so it’s time for dinner.  It’s about bloody time because I’m hungry enough to eat a horse and chase the jockey.  Do NOT tell Mom I said bloody!

MAXIMUS

“I surmise I am to carve the turkey?”

“That would be a yes.  Maximus, you watched Terry carve the turkey at Thanksgiving.  All you have to do is separate the entire side of the breast from the bone and put it on the platter, then slice it across the grain.  You can disjoint the legs and put them at either end of the platter.”  She had more faith in my ability to carve this bird than I.  I tackled the bird and managed to get the legs and wings disjointed, then loosened the breast as she directed.  I put the legs at opposing ends of the platter and placed the breast between then and sliced as instructed.  After that, I placed the wings on either side of the platter and stood back to admire my handiwork.  Cassandra smiled and nodded, and I heard Terry’s voice over my shoulder.

“Couldn’t have done better myself, Max.”  I looked at him.

“Were you ready to step in should I fail?”

“Always interested in learning a new technique, Mate.”  We laughed, and I carried the platter to the dining room, placing it in the centre of the table where it was surrounded by all the other plates and bowls of holiday fare.  I had attended my share of banquets as a soldier, and this bill of fare equalled them all.  Cassandra and Diana were placing soup bowls on the dinner plates sitting atop the gold chargers, and Sooze ladled pumpkin soup from a tureen into the bowls.  Cassandra looked at Terry.

“Terry?  Would you do the honour of saying grace?”

“I’d be happy to, Love.”  We bowed our heads.  Terry’s words were brief but heartfelt, thanking their Christian God for His blessings in this year and beseeching their continuance in the year to come, followed by a request for peace to descend upon humankind.  At the conclusion, we all looked up and reached for our napkins to begin the first course.  The soup plates were removed, and we began passing our plates for the turkey and other food.  The plates made their way round the table with the person closest to each dish serving the plate as it was handed to them.  By the time the plates had made their way round the table, each was laden to overflowing with food.  Cornbread dressing had been prepared by Diana, along with creamed corn.  Cassandra had made fresh broccoli with Hollandaise Sauce, as well as a cranberry-orange relish.  Terry dipped his fork into the corn dish, chewed, smiled, and looked at Diana.

“The creamed porn is great, Diana.”  Young Dolores looked confused as the adults stifled our collective laughter.

“Don’t you mean corn, Uncle Terry?”  Cassandra reached up and flicked Terry’s ear with her fingers.

“OW!”  She laughed and put a bit of turkey in her mouth, and we resumed eating.  For the first time since the arrival of our guests at ten this morning, there was no conversation.  By the time our plates were half empty, conservation was resuming.  Diana had obviously got Terry to tell her what Dino had given me for Christmas and now she spoke.

“Max?  I’ll send in a tin of leather dressing Tuesday morning for you.”  Laughter erupted at my expense, and I joined it.  It was amusing and Dino’s sense of humour is without equal.  Young Dolores again looked confused as her mother leant down to whisper in her ear.  That was more than Cassandra could resist, and she added her own comment.

“I’ll pick up a tube of nappy cream, just in case!”  That occasioned shouts of laughter and yet another confused look from the child amongst us.  It was time to move the conversation to topics that would not exclude young Dolores.  I looked at her as I spoke.

“Dolores, what did Father Christmas bring you this year?”  She smiled and then giggled as young girls are wont to do.

DOLORES

Obviously, Uncle Max wants to think that I still believe in Santa, or Father Christmas, as he says, I’ll humor him. 

“March of the Penguins was in my stocking, along with a pair of earrings – little pearls with diamonds – and the new Beyonce CD.  There was a pile of stuff under the tree, too.”  Dino grinned at me.

“Sounds like you were on Santa’s “good” list.  Tio, did you get any coal in your stocking?”  Everybody laughed again before Uncle Terry could answer.

“Only a tiny little piece, way in the toe.  If I hadn’t been such a greedy sod, I’d not have found it!”  Auntie Reagan laughed before she spoke. 

“Coal?  Gosh, Terry!  I can’t imagine what you could have done to deserve a lump of coal ….”  I wish grownups wouldn’t keep making private jokes and not tell me what they think is so bloody funny, because it’s not.  Maybe I could get them to tell me.

“What did Uncle Terry do?”  That got them talking, and they just went around the table, telling me what they all thought he’d done to deserve coal in his stocking; they all had something different.  Auntie Reagan started it off.

“Well, there was that bit of trotting Max all over the country after that infamous night at the opera.”  Terry laughed.

“It was only payback for that run to the Middle East that I had to make for him last May.”  Uncle Dino was next.

“There was also that trip you sent me on to Boston in September.”

“OUCH!”  Uncle Terry winced when he said that.  Dee laughed and put in her two cents worth.

“There was a Monday after the opera ….”

“Double ouch!”  Uncle Terry seemed to have a comment for everyone.  Mom was next.

“Let me think on that, but I know that you’ve done something in the past year to pi …make me angry at work.” 

“Just business, Sooze.  We have to get the job done.”  Uncle Max had the last word.

“It was the phone call at two-thirty in the morning.”  Uncle Terry gave him a look.

“And you really thought I was going to call Diana at two-bloody-thirty in the morning?  Recall that you volunteered to make that call, Mate.”  I looked at Uncle Terry.

“Sounds like you deserved a lorry full of coal out in the front yard, Uncle Terry.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear, Love.  They love to rag on me.”  Everyone was standing up to leave the table, and Dee gave him a quick hug.

“Terry, we only rag on you because we all love you.”  I knew there was something going on with all their comments that I didn’t know about, but that’s okay.  At least they started telling me something.  We all got up and started clearing up.  Mom, Sarah, Dee and Auntie Reags and me all picked up serving dishes to take back to the kitchen while Uncle Terry and Uncle Dino started gathering up the plates and glasses.  Terry looked at Uncle Max and then just laid into him.

“Your arm broken, Mate?  Pick up the platter and take it into the kitchen.  No servants here, Maxie.”  Uncle Max looked kind of surprised but did as Uncle Terry told him and followed us.  Auntie Reagan got everything into Tupperware and back into the ‘fridge – they’d be eating leftovers until New Year’s – and we scrapped all the dishes into the disposal.  I started rinsing the plates and opened the dishwasher to start loading it like I do at home, but Auntie Reagan stopped me.

“Hey, Dolores, these dishes don’t go in the dishwasher.  See the gold rim here?  The dishwasher detergent will peel that off just like nail polish remover takes the polish off your nails.”  Wow.  I didn’t know that.  “I’ll wash them later, Honey.”  I shook my head at her.

“No, let’s do them now before all the food sticks.  I’ll help.  I can wash and you dry, or you wash and I’ll dry.  They’ll be done in a tic and you won’t have to fuss with them later.” 

“You sure about that?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”  We had everything done in less than 20 minutes.  While we were working and all alone in the kitchen, I had a chance to ask her a few questions while Mom wasn’t around to tell me to stop being so nosey.

“Auntie Reags, how did you and Uncle Max meet?”  She looked over at me and laughed.

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh too much.” 

“Okay.”

“I met him in the produce section of the supermarket.”

“What?”

“I was picking out a cantaloupe.  I always rub the stem end and then sniff it …if it smells like cantaloupe tastes, that’s the one I buy.  He was trying to pick out one for himself and figured I had a system so he asked me what I was doing.  One thing led to another and he asked me out.  I haven’t seen another man since then.”

“When was that?”

“The day after Valentine’s Day.” 

“What about Uncle Terry and Dee?”

“Anything particular you want to know?”  Yeah …like is he going to marry her, but I couldn’t exactly ask that.

“Well, are they, you know, serious?”  She dropped the sponge into the dishwater and looked at me.

“You notice that huge topaz she’s wearing around her neck?”

“Yeah ….”

“That belonged to Terry’s grandmother.  He gave it to Dee about a week after they met.  What do you think?”  Well, bother!

“I guess they’re serious.  Are they going to get married?”  I really didn’t mean to ask that, but it just kinda slipped out before I could stop it.  She smiled at me as she picked up the sponge again.

“As far as I know, they don’t have any plans along that line, but they are very fond of each other.”  Gee, ya think?  Oh well.  If he doesn’t marry her, maybe by the time I grow up she’ll have gone away and I’ll have a chance at him.  By the time we got back to the lounge, Uncle Max was bringing in brandy snifters and Uncle Terry had a bottle of brandy in his hand.  He poured for all the grownups and then Uncle Dino said he had something in the car.  He came back in a couple of minutes later with a box in his hand, and both Uncle Terry and Uncle Max lit up like the Christmas tree.

“Cohibas, Mate!  You ARE the Latin American connection, aren’t you?”  Uncle Dino grinned at Uncle’s Terry’s comment and opened the box …cigars.  Yuck.  I should have known.  He held out the box and Uncle Max and Uncle Terry both took one and THEN he offered them to Auntie Reags and Dee …and THEY each took one!  Thank God Mom and Sarah shook their heads.  They went through this sort of ritual of unwrapping the cigars and rolling them in their hands, then sniffing them, and Uncle Dino took this little gadget out of his pocket and went around the room, clipping the ends off the cigars before lighting them for everyone.  Uncle Max puffed on his for a minute then inhaled on it and got this really weird look on his face …kind of dreamy and his eyes were all …I’m not sure what.  Really weird.  Uncle Terry’s face got the same look, and then he said something that I didn’t get but everyone else seemed to think was the funniest thing they’d heard all year.

“Where’s an intern when you need her?”  Mom choked on her brandy, and she and Sarah and Auntie Reags and Dee all laughed until they were crying.  When I’m grown and married and have kids, I’m not gonna do stuff like this to them …maybe.  When everyone stopped laughing, Uncle Terry pointed at Mom with his cigar.

“Sooze, there was something else in my stocking.  It’s a magazine subscription, and the first issue should arrive next week.  Be on the lookout.”  She nodded, and Dee spoke up.

“Don’t worry about looking for it Sooze; I’ve had it sent to the house.”  Auntie Reags looked at Uncle Max, and he looked at Mom who looked at Dino.  Wonder what that’s about? 

Uncle Terry looked at Dee.  “Get out!” 

I looked at him.  “That’s not ‘Strine!”

TERRY

Dee and I were in the kitchen whilst Reags put the dessert plates on the table along with forks.  I was turning the Christmas pudding onto the serving plate that Dee was holding and turned to look at her.  “You do realise that you’ve just publicly acknowledged to our mates that we’re living together?  Not that I mind, but could you give a bloke a bit of warning next time you make an announcement of that magnitude?  I almost choked on my cigar.”

“Hold on there, Boomer.  One magazine subscription does NOT make a living arrangement.  I just acknowledged that you’re either at work or at my place.”

“Sounds to me like an acknowledgement of our having begun cohabitating.”

“Well, hell, Terry, they’ve all known that since September.”

*

The pudding turned out a treat, and I sat the pan beside it so I could be sure and match up where to slice with the trinkets I’d put in it.  I’d marked the pan with a Sharpie before baking the pudding so I knew where to start slicing.  I laid different pieces of dried fruit beside each proposed slice so I’d not muck it up.  A cherry for Dolores (sorry for the obvious reference there), a cranberry for Reags because she loves them, a bit of orange peel for Max as they were rare in his day, a bit of apple for Sooze (her favourite fruit), a bit of lemon for Dino, a currant for Sarah.  I didn’t bother marking mine and Diana’s as the trinkets in our slices were interchangeable.  I carried it to the table and set it in the centre, poured a bit of brandy on top, and struck a match to it.  Dolores’ eyes got big as saucers as she watched the blue flame flare and then die.  I picked up the knife but spoke before I started slicing.

“For those of you not familiar with the tradition, each slice of pudding has a trinket inside, so don’t swallow it.  The trinket is something that tells part of your future.  The interpretation is up to you, but, if you want my thoughts, I’ll give them.”  I started slicing, handing each plate to the person intended.  When I’d done, I sat and watched as they started eating.  Dolores was digging for hers as I’d anticipated.  A tiny saddle, and her eyes popped even wider if that was possible.

“A saddle?  Am I getting a saddle, Uncle Terry?”  I smiled at her.  She’s a beautiful child.

“Seems to me that once you learn to ride properly, there might be a saddle in your future, don’t you think?”  Sarah found hers next, an umbrella, and she looked at me.

“Does this mean it’s raining men?”  We all laughed.

“Well, I was thinking more along the lines of the perfect nanny, Mary Poppins, but you can wish for raining men if you like.  Be sure the brolly is down-side up so you can catch them!”  Diana looked at Sarah.

“Sarah, you don’t say much, but when you do speak up, it’s worth hearing!”  Who’s next?  Dino.  He held up a tiny hula dancer.

“Been meaning to take a trip to the Islands …this is all the encouragement I need.”  Reags found hers and looked at me.  It was a baby …what can I say?

“You trying to tell me something, Terry?”  I grinned at her. 

“Just trying to help my mate along.”  That got me a big smile from Max, who found his next …a ring.  He looked at me, eyebrows raised.

“We all know there’ll be one on your left hand sometime in the foreseeable future, but I thought that one would work a treat through your nose.”  The entire table erupted in laughter, and he took it in the spirit intended, laughing along with the rest of us.  That left only Diana and me, and we’d both located our trinkets straight away.  She hadn’t said anything – she likely figured she’d done quite enough ‘announcing’ for one day - nor had I.  Reags wasn’t about to let either of us off the hook.

“So, Terry, what’s in your slice of the pudding?”  I looked at Diana, and she grinned.  Reags turned to her.  “Dee?  One of you start talking, or I’ll come over there and see for myself.”  Diana held up a tiny heart, and I held up a key.  I don’t think anyone needed any explanations.

DOLORES

These guys have really loosened Mom up, and they act a lot like kids themselves.  Maybe that’s what grownups are …just big kids.  We were all at the door bundling up as Uncle Max and Auntie Reags kissed all of us goodbye.  As Mom and Sarah and I stood on the porch, I turned and looked at all of them.  I really love these people, and I wanted them to know that.  We’d just read Dickens’ A Christmas Carol in school and so I just had to say it.

"God bless us every one."

Notes

God bless us every one.  From Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol

Return to Character Fiction