A Kind of Home Coming - Chapter 1

With weary eye an apparition form takes place.

Slinks and folds in my disembodied soul, in shadows deep

Reveals itself in the blind and wickedness of our own closed hearts

We are the ones, our own to fear to loath in concentric self.

                                                          

Abbey Parker shuffled up the steps to face the wreath covering the mahogany door, closed her eyes and sighed.  Snow spiraled upwards in a sudden gust and settled down into the folds of her wool scarf making her shiver.  She coughed harshly fumbling through her purse for the keys cursing as she did.  Three days before Christmas and she still had no tree, no lights and no spirit; save a sprig of holly on the outdoor light and the wreath on the door.  It had been a long and busy month at the law office and the house stood empty in darkness with an uninviting air. Christmas was supposed to be a happy time of year but in this week alone she had prepared 3 divorce proceedings and had to begin the estate settlement for one Albert Brude. 

Albert passed away shortly after his office Christmas party by running the Hummer he was driving into the side of a freight train.  He is survived by his wife Loretta and 2 daughters, Katie and Jennifer.  Katie and Jennifer will be spared the knowledge that his death was related to the upcoming arrival of their little brother who will meet the world in the delivery room of the Grace Hospital.  Nothing would ever be mentioned that the father is actually Albert’s brother Jacob. “God bless us everyone,” choked Abbey as she turned the key and entered the dark hallway.

The house was an ice box and inside a skiff of frost covered the tiles in the foyer forcing her to concentrate on her footing as she thumbed the wall for the light switch.  “Why is it so god damn cold in here?”  There was of course no answer, nor did she expect one.  Francis (her boyfriend) had left on a business trip to Italy earlier in the week and wasn’t expected to return until the first week in January.  The trip came unexpectedly on the heels of an early morning phone call in which Francis felt compelled to have in the downstairs bathroom.  A text message from the Airport was the only notice she received as she sat with a client the previous afternoon. 

A barely audible click interrupted the silence and with it the soft glow of the concealed lighting that dotted the ceiling came to life.  The lights normally provided a kind of pseudo warmth to the house but not tonight.  In the yellow light Abby could make out the condensed vapor of each exhale and a carpet of frost that covered the laminate floor.  She carefully placed the laptop on the edge of the stairs and made her way up to check the thermostat.  The soft green backlight came to life with a single touch reporting the temperature of the room to be minus 15 degrees Celsius.  She looked at the timer and groaned as she realized what had happened.  In her hurry to leave she had actually set the vacation mode that morning instead of having it turn on at 4pm to counter the plummeting evening temperatures.  She tapped the pad in several places and after a ten second pause heard the furnace element ignite, another slight pause, a click then the comforting sound of warm air being pushed throughout the house.  Abbey leaned against the wall and swallowed hard sparking a coughing fit.  The overload of work, the holidays, Francis; it was too much, she was tired in her heart and didn’t want to try anymore, didn’t want to be strong or patient or understanding of everyone else’s problems.   The floor would have to be mopped after the frost melted but she just didn’t care and headed for the wine cooler.  After pouring a large glass of Chardonnay she lifted it towards the ceiling in a toast to the quiet house.

Taking the scenic route through the kitchen Abbey pulled out a box of Chinese leftovers from the fridge and closed the box inside the microwave.  She sipped from the glass while she waited and took a package of contact C from the side cupboard.  The foil back ripped open like sheet of tissue paper and the pill bounced onto the floor and under the stove. “Fuck me! Screw it!”  Tears welled in her deep brown eyes and threatened to break over like a dam but she pushed back the urge and moved toward the couch.  There was still a couple hours work to do before she could rest for the night and feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to help.

She picked up the laptop from off the stairs and set it on the coffee table next to her dinner deciding to refill in her glass before settling down on the sofa.  Abbey looked out the window at the falling snow while the computer booted up.  Minutes later the harsh light filled the room and strained her eyes making her squint.  Abbey grabbed the remote and turned on the television to fill the void with something.  The silence in the empty house was oppressive and she just needed something, ending up on the odd station that plays carols while a looped tape of log burns in a fireplace. 

Two hours later she placed the laptop back on the table, saved the file she had been working on and closed the program leaving the screen saver visible.  It was a picture from the original movie with Alister Sim in “A Christmas Carol”.  Laying back against the soft cushions she stared at the picture for a while and contemplated the overwhelming feelings of similarity between her situations to that of Scrooge.  Not that she was ill tempered towards everyone but the empty house certainly spoke volumes of her lack of interest in the season and it seemed she would be working as many hours as Bob Marley.  Abbey laughed in spite of herself and mumbled to the din, “Alone in a cold dark house, that’s us Scrooge.” She imagined the Christmases of her youth, filled with Aunts, Uncles and assorted friends and strangers and a brightly lit tree with presents spilling out into the room.  She could almost smell the hot apple cider simmering on the stove, a Turkey in the oven with all the trimmings set out on the table and Bing Crosby singing in the background.  She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, the room quite now except for the crackle of the burning logs now on its 27^th loop.

Outside the storm intensified, the wind shooting the new fallen snow like knives, harpooning the trees and buildings and the terrified souls that were forced out into the blackness and cold.  Snow hit the window in waves like sand before the tide, catching, sticking looking in at the warmth, almost mocking it.  The screen saver of the Morley family having Christmas dinner remained, unblinking in the shadowed room, Scrooge and the ghost of Christmas present looking on as they stand in the background.  Everyone laughing and joking together, raising their glass in an eternal toast to Mr. Scrooge and as Abbey drifted off into a dreamless sleep and as her breathing slowed the snow still tapping on the glass something in the picture had changed.   The smiles had eased on the kids’ faces and a look of concern had now spread over Bob as he sat at the end of the table. Martha was now turned in her seat looking out towards the computer screen peering into the room where Abbey now lay.