The Gift Returned
December 24
Stanley woke up suddenly in a pool of sweat. He blinked a few times. Images of Ashley, his sister’s gravestone, and feelings of despair all hit at once. He sat up on his bed and wept. He wept for the years lost to anger and bitterness. He wept for the lost Christmases, for the coldness in which he treated the world.
But then a slow realization dawned on him. The nightmare was over. Whatever happened, he was given a second chance. He didn’t know what he was going to do with it yet.
“Professor Redlaw?” asked a familiar gentle voice.
Stanley looked up and saw Milly, the saint who saw him through his worst nightmare.
“Milly, I’m sorry for any harm that’s come to you because of my actions,” Stanley whispered. “I’m not a bad man. I didn’t know.”
Milly walked up to his bed and sat next to him, “Memories hurt, don’t they?” she rubbed his back.
Stanley nodded slowly and burst into tears again.
“When you asked me last night what I would do if I were given this gift of erasing people’s trauma and memories, I didn’t know what to say. But I think I know what to say now. You know why, perhaps, God lets these memories remain?”
Stanley shook his head.
“That we may love and forgive deeper… to realize that our pain is sacred, and it’s nothing to be ashamed about because it creates space within us to become compassionate… if we allow it. Of course, there’s always a risk it will turn us even more cruel, but I think that’s the decision we inevitably come to, and one we must decide when the opportunity is given to us. As for me… I believe that connection, acceptance, and warmth will heal us, Professor Redlaw. Hope. That’s what will save us in the end. Peace on earth. Good will to men.”
Stanley sighed, “I want to believe.”
Milly brushed his hair back and smiled, “Then believe, Professor.”
***
Milly served Stanley coffee in the kitchen.
“Did I ever tell you about Charlene?” Stanley sipped his coffee.
Milly nodded her head no.
“Would you like to hear?”
Milly smiled, “Yeah,” she sat down.
“I grew up on the rough side of Chicago. Dad beat me a lot. But Charlene was my older sister… she always looked out for me, whether I was hungry or getting beat up at school. She was so kind. A nurse. Took care of so many people.
“The older we got, the more we differed in our responses to our childhoods. I got angrier, she got more forgiving. She had no issues forgiving my father, paid for his whole funeral. She never asked me once to cover it. She was kind of the glue when I look back at it all.
“She loved that I became a writer. But she hated my endings. She thought they were too miserable. The way I talked about the poor and the destitute touched her, but she couldn’t make sense out of why things always had to end badly.
“So, I decided to try to write a novel where the ending is happy. My marriage with Ashley was starting to turn the corner, which was an odd relationship to begin with. I’m not entirely sure why she chose me. Loneliness, maybe. Pressure.
“I wrote the novel. I kept teasing Charlene about it. Maybe things will work out for the characters this time. Maybe they won’t die or get addicted to something. Maybe the poor will become millionaires overnight.
“I left the finished draft at her house with a sticky note and a Coke. She always loved Coke. Drank it more than water. She was going to read it that night for the first time. Then… I got the call.
“A drunk driver hit her car, and it spun off the bridge into the Chicago River. As the car drowned, she struggled to get out. Never did. I remember the disbelief I had in that call, like nothing made sense.”
Stanley sighed and wiped a tear away, “And all I could think about was the irony of it. The one time I write a happy ending, the one time I entertain the possibility of goodness in the world… that’s the one time things don’t work out for me. I’ve made a career out of being a pessimist in my work, but the one time I look forward to any kind of happiness… it’s taken from me.”
Stanley sipped his coffee and leaned back.
“That must’ve been hard,” Milly reached across the table and held Stanley’s hand.
“It was… but it proved me right. I would’ve never considered myself religious before this, but I had some loose Christian kind of belief that maybe redemption could be experienced, that maybe there was hope yet.
“But I wished God was dead the night Charlene was taken. I wished I didn’t believe in anything. So, I went back to what was safe. Pessimism. Anger. Despair. My marriage started to fall apart, and like a country song, my wife left me for my ex-best friend. Bad person all around, but particularly a terrible writer.”
Milly smirked, “Professor, are you saying that because he took Ashley or because he’s a genuinely bad writer?”
“Honestly?” Stanley chuckled. “His work is awful. Just awful. Cheap. Predictable. The only reason he gets any hype is because he knows how to write sex really well. Just hip and happening right now. That’s not the stuff of life though. That’s not what’s eternal. Ernest Hemingway apparently called Jason up after a drinking binge and called him a smutty hack. The only time I’ve ever liked Ernie as a person was when I heard that story.”
Milly burst out into laughter.
“Yeah, yeah…” Stanley rubbed her thumb.
After Milly composed herself, she cleared her throat: “So… did Charlene ever marry or have children?”
“No, she never did. I think that’s how her trauma manifested. She was afraid of men chronically. But she was also a feminist and loved independence. I think a lot of men looking at her life would feel sorry for her, but she was really happy with herself. She felt she accomplished a lot. I was so proud of her.”
“What happened to the novel with the happy ending?”
“It’s in a safe… I’ve kind of promised to never write happy endings again. I know what happens when I want good things. I don’t get them. I get punished for asking. It’s my curse.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Milly’s eyes showed kindness and empathy. “But I think now, when things seem so wrong, we could use some happy endings. Especially for you. You deserve to be happy, to be free. Charlene would want that. You didn’t go through hell to give up now, did you?”
Stanley shook his head, “No, I didn’t.”
“What would she want you to do?”
“She would want me to write and start believing in goodness again.”
Milly shrugged and smiled, “I think you have your answer, Professor Redlaw. Charlene would want you to get up and start again.”
“But how do I do that?”
“You open your heart and let people in,” Milly put her other hand on top of his. “And now’s as good a time as any. Everyone’s in a good mood. It’s Christmas. Why don’t you try it for a bit, see how it feels?”
***
Taking Milly’s advice, Stanley walked by himself in the busy streets of Chicago. Everything had a familiar warmth to it. Even the cold didn’t bother him. He stopped in front of Tetterby’s shop, saw Sophia and Marcus embracing.
Stanley smiled as he walked in, “How are my two favorite students?”
Marcus looked at him, “Professor Redlaw! Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas!” Stanley sat at a coffee shop bar.
“You remember that tornado that tore apart Oak Lawn this year?”
“Yes.”
“We lost a lot to it but… well, we just got word our fortunes are turning around. Sophia’s pregnant!”
“Congratulations!”
“Well, that’s life… you know? You lose a lot, but then you gain some. Some odd pattern to the universe.”
“I guess so.”
Sophia kissed Marcus, “This is the best present I could ask for.”
Stanley remembered how just a few hours before she was distraught and the marriage was in shambles – all because of his interference. He felt shame, but also deep gratefulness for second chances and clean slates.
In the reflection in the mirror behind the bar, briefly, he saw the boy that traveled with him. He smiled at Stanley as if to say goodbye. Stanley smiled back.
***
The church in front of the coffee shop started singing “Silent Night.” Stanley wiped away a tear as he stepped outside. All he could think was how numb he was over the last few years of his life, about how much he missed out on; but at the same time, he discovered a newfound purpose and joy that couldn’t have been known otherwise. Stanley knew there was a mysterious tension there that only God and the spirits knew.
SCROLL BELOW FOR NEXT PAGE ↓
- A Chicago Carol - December 24, 2024
