It is getting to be a few years ago now, I found myself in a small town at Christmas. It was an unusual time in my life. Cancer had ended my failing marriage of fifteen years and for the first time since I was a teen I found myself single. What do single people do at Christmas? In my case, I went home.
I had left my small town the day after high school had ended and joined the army. I did my duty got out and got an education. My wife and I had married young, probably too young in my case. She was frustrated with me much of the time, and she never quite got over the news that she couldn't have children. I was doggedly dedicated to our sinking ship even when we got her diagnosis.
My folks were nice, my sibling's families were loud. Being widowed at Christmas in a house full of families might just be the ultimate expression of the term odd man out. So I called around.
There was not that many of my old crowd that were a) people I still wanted to see, and b) still in town. Fortunately I managed to get a hold of Kelly. Kelly and I had been friends for years, although we had lost touch for large gaps of time. She was my first kiss (on a dare) and always a blast.
While I had been gone she had made a family and kicked a deadbeat out of her life. She was always the wise cracking gal who would take no shit from anyone. She would have been the best kind of bartender, I think. Funny, sympathetic, and just as likely to toss you on your ass if you were playing the fool.
I was glad that she had time to see me it Christmas. Everyone has obligations at that time of year. On the phone her voice had a rasp to it, like she had been up late singing sad songs in a smoky bar. It added to the appeal she had had since we were kids. Kelly always seemed like an old soul.
She would love to catch up, she said, but it would have to be at her house. It is impossible to get a sitter at Christmas, she had explained. Kelly would make dinner, and I offered to bring the wine, by which we both knew I meant a case of beer.
It was just her and her kids in a little old house on a dark street in town. It was bitterly cold that night and nothing was moving in the town. Snow was falling. The scene fit my mood, which was soon to change.
Inside the house was warm and bright. Good smells from the kitchen and a big hug from my old friend greeted me at the door. Her kids were polite and fun, and dinner was great. I told 'war stories' about basic training to amuse the kids, and we eased into a comfortable evening. It was the best I had felt in months.
It didn't hurt that the beer was flowing, kept icy cold in Kelly's porch. I started to notice some things around the house as we did the dishes together. The faucet was loose in the counter top for example. There was a curtain hung over the washroom entrance instead of the door, which leaned against the wall nearby.
Quietly I asked her about it as she sent the kids to wash up before bed.
"Oh you didn't know Jelly," her deadbeat partner that she had kicked out, "he wasn't very, uh, constructive, y'know?" She nodded to a hole punched in the drywall in the hallway.
I felt pretty bad. I mean, I learned how to do some not so nice things, but I got into it all to help people. While the kids brushed their teeth I fixed up the faucet in the kitchen. While Kelly read bedtime stories I was busy with the bathroom door. The hinges had been ripped out of the door frame. I could guess how. I found some short pencils and whittled the paint off with my pocket knife. I found some white glue in some craft supplies and was just finishing setting the plugs when Kelly came downstairs.
"What's going on here?" she asked.
"Just trying to be, you know, constructive," I told her. "I have a screwdriver in my truck, this door will swing before morning!"
Kelly grabbed me from behind with a big hug. "Thanks buddy," she murmured into my back. It had been a long time since I had a hug from anyone but some family member with an I'm sorry. It felt good. Kelly felt good too. Soft in the right places, but strong also.
"Let me bring you a beer, good Sir,"
We dragged the case of beer into the basement so that we could talk and not disturb the kids. It was lit with a single bulb hanging from a wire. There were old newspapers on shelves homemade fifty years earlier. There was the laundry, the ancient furnace struggling to keep up to the cold, and an old love seat.
Kelly dragged an ash tray from under the couch and a pack of smokes in a zip lock bag.
"This is where Mommy goes for a little relaxation," she confided as she lit a smoke and patted the seat beside her. I sat down and we continued to drink as we talked.
We spent time catching up on what each other knew about friends long and lost, and about how our small town seemed to have a gravity field all its own. Kelly pointed out that the longer one stayed, the harder it was to leave.
She talked about Jelly. How she tried to keep his bad habits from her kids. How he promised to change, and how he always ended with an enormous fuck-up. Kelly spoke about her desire to get out of our town. To make a real life somewhere else for her little family. She told me about wanting her independence, to make it on her own.
I talked about my Wife, and how I loved her even though I knew we were wrong for each other. I talked about being careful for what you wish for in moments of anger.
I noticed Kelly draw her knees up and shiver a little. Cold was emanating from the unfinished cement walls of the little basement. I looked around and quickly spied a comforter folded neatly in a basket. I grabbed it and draped it around her.
"Such a sweetheart," she smiled at me, "A guy like you won't be single long,"
I cracked another beer and sat down. Kelly threw the other half of the blanket over me and snuggled in beside me. We sat in companionable silence sipping beers and watching shadows flicker from the swinging light bulb. It was the first time that I had felt comfortable in months.
I think we both drifted off, but next I knew Kelly was nudging me awake, "Come on, wake up. There's a storm hitting us pretty hard,"
I shook the reverie from my mind and noticed that the house was really cold. The poor furnace just could not keep up. Kelly dragged the comforter off of us and went to check on the kids. I finished fixing the door to help warm up, and was just dropping the pins in the hinges and testing the swing when she came down.
"You might as well spend the night," she told me, "its 2am and your truck probably won't start anyway,"
I was pretty sure it would, but I knew better than to argue with Kelly!
"Got that comforter? I can rack out on the couch no problem," I assured her.
"I left it with kids," she said, "You can sleep with me for the night,"
I looked at her skeptically. "Oh fuck off!" she chided me, "We are adults and it's freezing,"
