Stand Tall (11 page)

He rolled the walker to the middle of the living room. “That’s what it comes down to sometimes—forgetting how you feel; being brave in front of your friends.”

Curtis, Larry, and Tree were quiet.

Bradley, who understood about friendship, trotted in from the hall.

“We need a Christmas tree,” Larry said finally.

Grandpa nodded. “That would help.”

“We could get one at the store,” Tree suggested.

“The stores,” Curtis snapped, “are
closed.
”

Grandpa grinned. “Guess we’ll have to steal one.”

In the car.

Curtis driving too fast, yelling at Tree to scrunch down in the backseat.

“You try scrunching down back here!”

Curtis screeched into the parking lot of Kramer’s Sports Mart. Dad was just about to close the store down. Curtis stopped fast. Tree’s head hit against the driver’s seat.

Wheelchair out. Too many arms to help Grandpa.

“Wait,” said Larry, “I lost my grip.”

“Dear God . . .” said Grandpa, sliding butt to the door.

Wheeling toward the store. Tree ran ahead, opened the doors.

Their father at the cash register, trying to clear out for the holiday. He looked up, shocked.

“This is a stickup,” Grandpa boomed cheerily. “Just hand over the tree and nobody gets hurt.”

“What?”

Grandpa pointed to the Christmas tree in the middle of the store, complete with lights and ornaments.

“You’re closing. You don’t need the tree. We do.”

“Pop, it’s not my tree. It’s the store’s tree.”

“You’re the manager.” Grandpa motioned to the boys, who started unplugging the tree, arguing about the best way to get it out.

“
I need it back on the twenty-sixth when we open.
”

Grandpa looked around. “We’ll take that wreath and that fake holly.”

Tree got the wreath. Larry got the holly.

“
Pop
 . . .”

Grandpa wheeled himself toward the door.

“It’s Christmas, Bucko, we’re going to start acting like it.”

Tree lay across the seat with the tree placed over his body. Sports ornaments dangled in his face.

“Drive carefully,” Grandpa ordered Curtis, “or he’ll be scarred for life.”

Tree groaned all the way home to make the point.

They got the tree up.

It filled the empty spaces of the living room.

Dinner cooking. Dad and Grandpa in the kitchen, getting in each other’s way.

Huge steaks. A dozen fat tomatoes. Three loaves of bread.
Four tins of pound cake. Frozen strawberries. Endless cans of whipped cream.

Bradley looked longingly at the tree.

“Don’t even think about it!” Curtis gave Bradley a push out the door.

Then Dad remembered he left his presents for everyone at the store, and Tree remembered he left his presents for everyone at Mom’s house, and Curtis and Larry remembered that they should have gone shopping, but didn’t. And Grandpa said they didn’t need presents, they just needed to let Christmas come natural, like the first one.

Bradley started barking at the front door. Tree let him in. Bradley headed right over to the Christmas tree, lifted his leg, and peed and peed.

“See,” said Grandpa, “if we had presents under there, they’d be ruined.”

And Bradley slept soundly in the hall.

“Pommerantz!” shouted Mom. “Don’t eat that.
Bad dog!
”

She ripped a celery curl with chutney cream cheese from Pommerantz’s tiny teeth.

Aunt Carla, Mom’s sister, came over to defend him. She and her dog were visiting from Florida for the holidays.

“He’s not a bad dog, Jan. He just doesn’t understand. Do you, Pommie?”

This was almost more than Tree and his brothers could stand.

Conan started barking. His territory had been invaded.

You learn the flexibility of the human spirit when you have two different Christmas experiences in less than twenty-four hours.

“How’s your . . . father?” Mom asked in that edgy way.

“Okay,” Tree, Larry, and Curtis said together.

“Grandpa?”

Same response.

She looked at the Serenity Fountain, a gift she had given to
herself. Gentle, gurgling water cascaded over small, peaceful rocks. This is what her life would become. Someday.

She was trying now to be conversational with her sons. “How was your Christmas Eve?”

“Pretty good after we stole the tree,” Curtis offered.

“
What?
”

Tree hit Curtis in the arm, told her the story, tried to make it light. He left out how he had to lie underneath the tree in the car.

“Your dad loves to do things last-minute.”

She looked at her decorated kitchen with the little wreaths of basil over the sink, the Christmas music playing softly, the three kinds of vegetables, the perfect pies. Last night she had finished decorating the house with garlands, pinecones, and blue and white bows.

She’d strung popcorn, for crying out loud.

She’d pictured everyone smiling and happy, but instead her sons seemed distant and sad. “Let’s talk about our feelings.”

“That’s a good idea,” Carla chirped.

Three distinct male groans.

Mom wiped away a tear. “We all know it’s different this Christmas. We’re still in the fresh pain of the divorce, the awkward parts of how to be with each other.” She looked at her sons. “Don’t you think?”

Tree nodded.

Curtis and Larry didn’t commit.

“We can make this work if we talk. If we don’t talk, we’ll never know what’s going on.” She grabbed the supersize bottle
of Motrin she kept by the sink, gobbled three pills, looked at the gurgling Serenity Fountain. “You can tell me anything, and I promise I will listen. I love you guys more than I know how to say. There is no wall between us, and there never will be. I want to know all that’s happening in your lives.”

Three pairs of shuffling male feet. Larry looked up finally.

“I’m kind of flunking two courses, Mom.”

Apron flung off, gums back like Conan. “
What are you saying to me?
”

“You wanted to know what was happening!”

“You’ll lose your scholarship!”

“
I can’t concentrate. I don’t know.
”

“Flunking? Not even a D?”

“
Yeah! I get up every morning and say, ‘How can I really screw up today?’
”

Larry stormed out of the room.

Carla said, “He’s acting out his feelings of frustration and anger, Jan.”

Mom turned in fury to Tree and Curtis.

Curtis had overdrawn his checking account again, but he was taking that news to his grave.

Tree thought about mentioning how he’d taken apart the blender a couple of weeks ago and there were two parts missing and he wasn’t sure it worked, but his mother was standing in front of it now with a handful of walnut halves—she put them inside the blender and everything in Tree wanted to shout,
Don’t.

She flipped on
CHOP
.

Nothing.

She checked the plug, tried again. The blender made a sound like a sick duck. Dark fury came over her face. She turned to Tree.

Tree was famous for doing this.

He took the answering machine apart when his mother was looking for work.

He took the remote control apart when his father’s commercial was running during the Army-Navy game.

“You will
never
do this again.”

Tree gulped. “I promise.”

“I think a fire in that pretty new fireplace would be nice,” said Carla, running from the room.

Mom furiously chopping the walnuts by hand.

Then concern hit her face.

“Was the flue up or down?”

“
I think we’ve got a problem here!
” Carla’s voice was an octave higher.

“
No!
” screamed Mom.

They all ran into the newly painted living room and watched as billows of black smoke blew into the room while the logs crackled in the fireplace.

“Guess it wasn’t open,” said Curtis.

Tree grabbed a broom from the closet, knelt down by the fireplace, breathing smoke, coughing as his lungs filled with it. He shoved the broomstick up to where the flue should be. Shoved four times, finally felt it pop open.

“
Open the windows!
” Mom screamed. “
Open the door! Open everything!
”

Larry ran down the stairs. “What happened?”

“Doom,” Curtis said solemnly.

“Oh, God, Jan, I’m so sorry!” Carla was opening windows, batting smoke from the air.

Pommerantz was barking pitifully in the kitchen.

“Oh, poor Pommie. He must be so scared.”

Pommerantz ran into the hall, stood shaking on the little yellow-and-white hooked rug, and puked up the celery stick with cream cheese.

“
Pommerantz
,” screamed Mom, “
sit on a tack!
”

“I think that’s excessive, Jan.”

It was then that the smoke alarm in the kitchen went off.

Mom stood on a stool by the freshly baked pies, trying to turn it off; the siren blared.

She yanked it from the freshly painted ceiling.

Ripped out the batteries.

And finally, quiet came upon them.

Except for the gurgling drips from the Serenity Fountain.

Mom crumpled on the floor in a woeful heap. The aroma of perfect roast beef wafted from the oven.

“Smoke alarm works,” said Curtis, who was known for having a firm grasp of the obvious.

Tree, Curtis, and Larry half laughed from relief.

She didn’t think that was funny.

Tree scrunched down next to her, put his arm around her shoulder. “You’ve got to laugh, Mom. If you don’t, you’ll cry.”

“My little sister is allergic to Fred.”

Eli Slovik told Tree this on the phone. Fred was his parrot.

“She’s got some feather allergy and Fred has to be out of the house until they test her and see if there’s medication. Can I bring him to your house? Just for a little bit?”

Tree wasn’t sure how Bradley would handle a parrot.

He wasn’t sure how anybody would.

“He could keep your grandfather company, Tree. Just ask.
Please?
”

“Back off, Buster.”

Fred the parrot said it to Grandpa, who said, “Back off yourself. I’m going to teach you some manners.”

Bradley looked at the parrot and barked loud.

“I really appreciate this, Mr. Benton.” Eli was holding the big cage with Fred inside. “He gets kind of excited sometimes.”

Grandpa stared at Fred, who stared back.

“I’ve got to go, Mr. Benton. Thanks.” Eli looked in the cage. “You be good, Fred.”

“Back off, Buster.”

Eli looked pained. “My uncle taught him to say that.”

Bradley backed out of the room.