15. Christmas Time in The City
fifteen
Christmas Time in The City
T he drive home is long, and after the wild night of rescuing Carol and laughing over an impromptu dinner with G.W., I’m not sure what to say.
“Thank you,” Kourt says it first. “Mr. Phillips is a little—well I guess he’s gone down faster than anyone knew. Carol has taken care of him since his stroke, but they’re both getting older, and now his mind wanders.” Kourt’s words are slow to come to him.
I can tell it troubles him to see them like that.
“It’s okay. I enjoyed them very much. I mean, not the circumstances of her falling—”
Fish sticks. Now my words are slow.
“They’re lovely. I’m glad we were there. I mean that you—were there. To help them.” I take a deep breath and try speaking again like it’s not a foreign concept. “You must know them well.”
“My whole life. The way we all know everyone in this town. My mother-in—I mean Georgia. Bob from the hardware store’s wife, Georgia—” Kourt’s the one tongue-tied now.
I look over at him trying to understand.
“She checks in on them periodically, but we’ve all been so busy—”
“With an Old-Fashioned Blitzen Christmas I forced on you, I suppose.”
“No. I didn’t mean that at all. It’s the holidays. All businesses are in their busy season regardless. That’s all I meant.” Kourt glances from the road to me as he over corrects.
“Oh,” my voice softer than I intended. I look straight ahead to see the lights of town glowing from a distance.
“You were great by the way,” he says firmly.
“No. You were their hero. You’re very great with them.”
Very great? What?
“Except for the getting out of the car when I told you to stay put part.” Kourt sounds as if he’s scolding me and not in a joking way.
“Well, that was your first mistake. Telling me to stay put.”
“Noted, Erika. Next time I’ll waste precious minutes to drop you off before I get to a victim because you can’t follow simple instructions.” His voice has a bite and there’s no question this conversation has taken a serious turn.
“Look, I’m sorry but it—”
“What if there had been a fire inside or something much worse? Just forget it. There won’t be a next time.”
I freeze in silence and stare out my passenger side window, unable to come up with a retort. I’m not sure I have one for that.
Did he just revoke his duty to drive me around and help with a Blitzen Christmas?
The long pause between us continues, until it terminates with his voice. “I just meant, it’s not likely for there to be a next time, that’s all. The odds of me getting a call again while we’re out working on Christmas stuff. That’s all I mean.”
We ride in more silence as my eyes lift to watch the lights of Blitzen dazzle upon approaching downtown.
Kourt awkwardly fumbles with the heater, checking to see if it’s on full blast, meanwhile it is perfectly warm in here, if not getting too hot due to his lingering tone.
He turns another dial, again, as if he doesn’t know his own truck that well, and he accidentally knocks the radio on.
The all-too-familiar melody of Silver Bells is playing.
I watch his hand go back to the steering wheel then reach again for the knob to cut it off.
“Oh, please don’t. Let it play.” I nod toward the dash for him to acknowledge the Christmas lights of Blitzen coming into focus as the music plays. “This exact song was playing in my Bug today as I drove away from town.”
“I’m pretty sure they play Christmas classics on a loop on all the surrounding stations.” He says like a jackass.
“No, but it was on my—ah, never mind—but it played at just the right moment, and I haven’t seen it all lit up at night like this yet.” Our eyes glow at the Christmas town before us. It’s magical. “I guess I just…”
The song hits its line, “It’s Christmas time in the city...” as we drive under a lit archway meant to represent a covered bridge. I almost think I see Kourt smile out his window, until he turns to me, ignoring all the impressive hard work.
Now I feel I have to say something to fill the space before he makes fun of me. “Anyway. It’s—”
“Beautiful.”
I turn to see Kourt looking right at me while we wait at the decorated stop light on Main Street.
“Does it look like it did when you and Helen were kids?” I just want to know if I did it right.
“Better.” Kourt’s voice catches in his throat and his eyes don’t leave mine to look back at the spectacularly lit downtown, nor do they when the light turns green. Brows pinch and he starts to speak just as our green light turns back to red, but I don’t let him.
“Hey, it’s a sign,” I say, beaming as bright as the Christmas lights. I feel my cheeks swell from smiling, and God if I can help it. “May I show you something? Just pull over and hop out. It won’t take much longer than the red light, and I think it’ll be worth it to you.”
Kourt’s face shifts from contemplation to curiosity. He slides into a parallel parking spot in front of a deserted downtown shop and kills the ignition.
The whole area is deserted apart from all the town lights and Josie’s decorations. I run across the vacant street to the courthouse without bothering to look both ways.
“Come on! Kind of exhilarating, isn’t it? Like roaming the halls of your high school on a Saturday with no teacher in sight or hanging out in a bank while it’s closed.” I walk backwards coercing him to catch up.
“I’m not sure if you just made a Breakfast Club reference, to insult me as I do roam the halls of my former high school daily, but I’m definitely not robbing the Blitzen bank with you.”
“Careful, don’t speak too soon. You really need that firetruck.” I smile as he catches up to me and we see our breath in the cold as we laugh. “Keep walking. Okay… it’s just behind…Wait—do it right. Close your eyes.”
“Hell no.”
“Come on, it’s Christmas.”
“Not yet it isn’t.” Kourt reluctantly closes his eyes, squinting a peek down at me as I take his hand and lead him behind the courthouse.
“It is now—Open.”
Kourt opens to see a massive lump covered by a big blue tarp. “What’s this?”
“Sorry. Brilliant unveiling fail on my part. I kind of need you to help with the tarp. And you can’t make fun. You and your basketball team inspired this.”
He looks down at me confused, then takes a step or two forward. There’s a hint of excitement or curiosity at the very least in his eyes, when he takes the bottom of the tarp in both hands. Racing to the other side, I grab my end. “Okay, lift on three, but try and close your eyes again.”
He’s done with the anticipation. “One. Two—” He stops counting and the tarp flies behind him, no help on my part. A massive, shiny red sleigh full of toys is revealed.
“What is all this? How did you get all this?”
“You said Fisher’s had everything, and I saw this massive red sleigh outside in their lawn and garden department when I veered off for extension cords.
They were the first call I made when I got the idea to bring back Christmas in Blitzen.
The day after the meeting I solidified everything, and they delivered it this morning. ”
Kourt steps up to a royal blue BMX bike and trails his hand down the handlebars to a Barbie pool party set, and a massive stuffed Koala bear wearing a T-shirt inside a box. There’s a magnificent amount of toys. “And me and my basketball players gave you the idea?”
“Well, you and the Josie’s tape deck in the Beetle. I swear that car’s possessed in a Christmas magic kind of way. See, the people from your can drive who need food probably need toys for their kids.”
“Ha! How did you get all of this?” Our eyes trail down the sleigh to the eight not so tiny reindeer tied in front of it.
“Fisher’s donated a lot of it. The rest is from Blitzen. The volunteer workers from the last two days brought toys—there’s more to come. And the decorations are from Josie’s attic.” I watch Kourt zero in on the only reindeer with a collar that has BLITZEN monogramed around his neck.
Kourt takes a step back to look again and take it all in. “But why did you hide it in the back?”
“Can you imagine their little faces when they turn the corner and see all of this? They’ll look like you do right now.
Last time I checked, Santa’s pretty discrete in where he parks his sleigh.
I couldn’t have it in front of the courthouse for the taking.
That, and Walter doesn’t know it yet, but his twenty-footer town tree has to be the focal point for the Christmas Eve Tree lighting. ”
I stifle a chuckle when I realize Kourt is silent.
Giddy with Christmas and the insanity I pulled off through Fisher’s, I may not be aware of how ridiculous this all seems. I clear my throat.
“Anyway, every family on your can drive list has free admission to Blitzen Christmas and their children will receive a ticket to come back to the sleigh for a toy. No charity here. All this came from Santa.” I take a deep breath and move to drape the tarp back across it.
“You really do think of everything, don’t you? And everyone.”
“It’s Christmas. That’s when you’re supposed to. So that’s that. Fisher’s really came through. Now it’s just figuring out the vendors and parking.”
Kourt follows my lead and secures the tarp on his end. The look on his face when he glances back at me, I can’t figure out.
“Why Christmas? Why here—I know there was a work thing or whatever Helen mentioned, but why Christmas? Why all this?” Kourt looks at me in earnest. “I mean, I’ve never seen someone care so much who’s not from Blitzen.”
Guess he’s trying to figure me out.
I start my walk back toward his truck. “Don’t make me do it. Any conversation that begins with, ‘When I was a kid…’ is cliché. Even at Christmas.”
“Fine. Then don’t start it that way. I challenge you to not say—”
“Okay. Once when I was several feet shorter than I am now, and unemployed?”
“Nice.”
“I think I must have been nine—”
“Foul ball.”
“Saying my age at the time doesn’t count.”
“Fine. When you were nine.” Kourt purses his smile, encouraging me to continue with doughy, exaggerated eyes.
“I spent the night with my cousins and our family took us to this random amusement park in their town. But it was December, and it wasn’t about the rides.
They had turned this theme park into a Christmas of every kid’s dreams. There were hot chocolate and old-fashioned Wassail stands.
Like, they actually had people dressed up in Charles Dicken’s style fashion relaying the history of mulled cider as they poured you a cup.
There were Christmas cookies, and a breadmaking shop, an ice skating rink, and old-fashioned carolers.
It was like what it would be at say, Disneyland or Six Flags today, only not so commercial.
This was truly special. It was real, and I loved it. I thought they made it just for us.”
Kourt strides slowly next to me with his hands in his pockets. “Did you ever get to go back?”
“Oh, I looked for it for years after that, but they stopped doing it. Someone sold the theme park, and it’s a parking lot for some convention center now.
Anyway, I guess that ideal Christmas has always meant something to me.
But then I grew up and went to Chicago, met Archer, and learned that ideals truly vary from one person to another.
Decorations go up and come down. If you’re too busy to notice them, you simply work through the holiday and it’s over.
Little by little it means less to you each year. ”
“Then why here? Why Blitzen. It can’t just be because of your great aunt.”
“When you and Helen mentioned Blitzen had this when you were kids—”
“How incredibly cliché of us.” Kourt interrupts with a dashing smile I almost can’t look away from.
“It reminded me of that time, and thinking about what matters most to different people. I don’t know.
It struck a chord with me. My mother used to always talk about this merry-go-round she had when they were kids.
They didn’t have a lot of money at the time, but her grandfather was so proud to have them around that he made them a merry-go-round.
Like, literally built this huge merry-go-round by hand for his grandkids.
She used to smile fondly and say, “We didn’t have much at home or at school, but we had a merry-go-round that was just ours. ”
Kourt stops and looks at me funny.
“I guess it comes down to that universal thing that makes a kid feel special, and for adults, giving it is the magic. So, I thought having a Blitzen Christmas again went along those lines for all parties. It belongs to Blitzen.”
“What? Christmas?”
“Well, yeah. And this entity, this festival, the people coming together to pull it off and the ones coming to celebrate and enjoy it. It’s just like Walter and his Calling of the Bears.
He can do that every December 21st, but if people come together and do that with him, then it’s his special thing he gave, and you get to come appreciate.
It’s all the same idea, you see.” I stop talking.
I’ve said more than enough, and I have no idea what he’s thinking with his head dropped to his feet as we shuffle slowly through town square toward the truck.
“Hey.” I finally break the silence.
Kourt looks up at me, his honey green eyes shining.
“Now that it’s clear that I do love Christmas… It’s fucking freezing out here!” I take off toward his truck and don’t stop until I get there. Kourt picks up his pace behind me, and we drive the rest of the way home in silence.