Chapter 45: Christmas Wishes

Tuesday, December 25, 1984

As with nearly all Christmas mornings, we had breakfast in our PJs. After that, we headed to the living room to open presents.

As we had yesterday, we modified things a bit. Ang and I would open a present from Mom and Dad, they would open one from us (and it would be ‘the usual things,’ I was sure), and that would be it. We would open more when Paige and Jas were here.

We were getting a jump on ‘married Christmas,’ that’s all. It feeling normal was perhaps the strangest part of it all. It likely wouldn’t have felt normal if Angie and I hadn’t been who we were, but we had a way of warping reality around us just enough so our being ‘unusually mature’ seemed natural.

It was natural for us, but only because we were, by most standards, completely unnatural.

Our presents to Dad were a soap on a rope and after-shave, old favorites he actually used. Mom was slightly different. I’d gotten her perfume a few too many times, and now I knew it wasn’t the best idea. Instead, we got her something practical she would also want — a recipe organizer for her cut-out newspaper recipes. Not a small recipe box like the ones she had, but a full-sized folder with compartments for each letter and some pages in front to write recipe titles and keep things somewhat sorted.

She seemed to love it, of course. I think she would have even if we’d given her something ridiculous. I felt sure she would use this, though.

If not, I’d find out later, just like I’d found all of those unused perfume bottles collecting dust in the back of the closet.

One last trip to church for this visit. One might have thought I would’ve already talked to everyone who wanted to see how I was doing, but no. Many people went to church only on Christmas Day, and those people wanted to check in and catch up.

In general, they were people I knew even less than I’d known the others. They likely knew that, too. Most of them introduced themselves and gave me some clue as to who they were, even if that was just ‘Hi, I’m so-and-so, and I’m an old friend of your parents.’

The service itself was what I expected. Christmas Day services change a bit more than Christmas Eve services, but not much. It was the ‘same old, same old,’ and that was fine.

On the way home, we stopped at the Seilers’ and Nguyens’, picking up Paige and Jas (and letting Mom and Dad talk briefly with Tony, Jean, Francis, and Camille). Jas and I would be back at her parents’ house later in the day, and Paige and Angie would head back to the Seilers’.

For now, and like Thanksgiving, it was time for First Christmas.

We went right to the living room and settled around the tree. Angie, by popular acclaim, got the job of handing out presents to everyone.

The presents all seemed good. Most of them were pretty useful without being a big deal. There were some exceptions, though.

Dad bought Mom a fairly simple gold necklace, but something about it touched her and she got all sniffly. I had a feeling there might be some noises through the wall tonight.

Angie loved the light sweater Paige had gotten her. It was maroon with an A&M logo on the sleeve. She’d complained repeatedly about how cold some of her classes were.

Jas was thrilled with the earrings I’d gotten her. They were merely cubic zirconia (no sense throwing around money yet, and Mom’s radar would have gone off had I not been able to say they were ‘just cubic zirconia’) but Jas loved them anyway.

For her part, Jas got me a padded steering wheel cover. The land yacht had a pretty hard, rather worn steering wheel, and I spent plenty of time driving it, so it was quite a helpful gift.

There were lots of hugs (and a few kisses) along the way. Perhaps the best present of all was watching Mom’s eyes light up as much when it was Angie and Paige smooching as when it was Jas and me. For that matter, even though I was mostly used to it by now, part of me was still thrilled Mom and Dad cherished my girlfriend.

After presents, it was mealtime. Christmas dinner was pretty simple. We went with ham (much easier than turkey) and a bunch of side dishes. No one stuffed themselves — the four of us had another fairly big meal in our future, and Mom and Dad weren’t big on stuffing themselves in any case.

After the meal, I gave Jess a quick call. Fortunately, I got her. We wished each other a Merry Christmas and promised to get together very soon.

We headed out mid-afternoon, saying goodbye and promising to update Mom and Dad on our plans. I wouldn’t be completely surprised if Angie and Paige slept at the Seilers’, nor if Jas and I slept at her parents’ house. If that happened, Cammie would likely take my bed. Angie’s might be a bad idea if those noises did, in fact, happen.

But, then, Cammie might crash on the couch at the Nguyens’. That, or Andrew might take the couch and give Cammie his bed. Either was possible.

In any case, I dropped off Angie and Paige, then headed to Camille and Francis’s house.

The present exchange was much like the first. There were a bunch of little things everyone liked, and we made sure both Camille and Francis had at least one piece of clothing each with an A&M logo on it.

Their first big present had been a new bed for Jas, which she was obviously enthusiastic about. It was self-serving for them in the best of ways. Now we’d stay over here sometimes, which was clearly something they wanted.

Camille let on that she’d talked with Jean Seiler and they were doing the same for Paige.

The other, much bigger, present was $2,000 to spend going anywhere ‘for at least a week.’ In 1984, that was a considerable amount. It wouldn’t get us a luxury vacation overseas or anything, but would cover many possibilities with money left over.

We thanked them profusely, of course. They said plenty of trip photos would be reasonable compensation. We would be very happy to oblige.

That, and I was already thinking of a future Christmas when we would return the favor.

With interest.

I called Mom between presents and supper and let her know we’d be staying at Jasmine’s. She, in turn, let us know Angie and Paige would be sleeping at the Seilers’ house. Score another victory for new beds!

Mom didn’t sound particularly broken up about it. She’d had lots of time with us and would have a lot more. Having Christmas night alone with Dad was probably a good thing.

Camille’s Christmas supper was, like Mom’s, relatively modest but very tasty. Unfortunately, we only got through about half of it before we all heard a ‘click’ at the back door. It sounded very much like someone trying to be quiet and not quite succeeding.

Camille got up and returned with an arm wrapped around a red-eyed, tear-streaked Cammie. A distraught-looking Penelope followed her, a few steps behind.

“What happened?!” Jas said, getting up to hug her. I followed quickly.

“Nuh...” Cammie said, then cleared her throat.

“N ... nothing,” she finally choked out. Her face said she desperately wanted us to buy that and knew we never would.

“Worst ‘nothing’ in quite a while,” Camille said, hugging Cammie again.

“It’s...” Cammie said.

“Here,” Penelope said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a crumbled mass of paper, then handed it to me.

I got it mostly flattened out. It was a greeting card, a very religious Christmas card based on the lengthy Bible passage on the front cover.

Even if Cammie wasn’t crying, and even if it hadn’t obviously been violently balled up (Ever try to ball up a Christmas card? It’s not easy!), I would’ve been apprehensive.

I gave Cammie a look, and she nodded.

Opening it, I read the first bit to myself. It started with ‘Thank you for your Christmas gift. That is, your silence. After all we did for you, and after trying to save your soul, at least you’ve broken your mother’s heart so badly that she’ll finally stop crying over you.”

It got worse from there. Oh, there was no cursing, no wishes of harm, nothing like that, but it was one of the better-written passive-aggressive guilt trips I’d ever seen.

My face certainly gave it away.

Jas said, “What ... what does it...?”

“I’m not going to dignify it by repeating it out loud,” I said. “Not even paraphrasing.”

Instead, I passed the card to Jas, then gave Cammie a tight hug.

“I ... it’s ... I don’t...” she said between sniffles.

“Don’t,” I said. “Just rest. You’re with people who love you.”

I gave Penelope a smile, hoping it was clear I included her.

She sniffled a bit at that. Her face said she had things to say, but I suspected she didn’t want to say them in front of Cammie.

I stepped away and motioned Penelope towards the other room. Cammie had plenty of hugs for the moment.

Once we’d gotten away, I said, “Just a second, please. I need to let my sister know.”

She nodded.

I picked up the phone and called the Seilers’. I got Tony, and he had Angie on the phone a few minutes later.

“What’s up?” Angie said.

“Bad things. Cammie got a really, really unfortunate Christmas card.”

Angie exclaimed, “Fu-”, then cut herself off.

More quietly, she said, “That ... it’s gotta be...”

“It is.”

“Damn them!” she said, still quietly. “What...?”

“We’re at the Nguyens. She can probably use your help. If anyone knows about an emotionally abusive parent...”

“I’m on it!” she said. “ASAP!”

“Love you!” I said.

“Love you, too!” she said, hanging up.

I turned to Penelope, who sighed and said, “I ... I could just ... my brother has done some stupid things, but this... ”

Softly, I said, “Look, I’m no psychologist, but when I read that, I see someone who’s hurting badly and lashing out to cover his own pain.”

She blinked twice, then nodded a bit.

“It’s still lousy!”

“It’s very lousy,” I said. “People can be complete jerks when they’re hurting. I can’t say that to Cammie, though. Angie may be able to, just a bit. Her birth mother is ... well, I’ll just say she’s not a stellar role model.”

Penelope gave a tiny little laugh.

“I’ll take your word for it. I...”

She sighed again.

“You know that we don’t agree...”

I nodded, and said, “But you still welcome her in your lives and love her. That’s what matters.”

She nodded, then said, “Joseph is going to get a piece of my mind!”

I shook my head a little.

“Maybe Angie will think differently, but I think he did this to get a reaction. You might say something, but keep it mild. Enough that he knows the card itself reached her, but save the real protest until he’s lost that feeling of waiting for a reaction and maybe has had time to regret it.”

“I ... I can try. And I’ll talk to Angie.”