Christmas Eve at Home

Eb was tired from pushing so hard. He’d barely had time to help Belle at all and she had resented competing with what she called his steely-hearted work wife. Belle could not handle the horrible racket and awful machines that Eb needed to control to make their money. She had tried to get him to move to something less softwar-related so that he could be more present. But Eb’s mind was set and his hat was still on tight.

Eb saw his wife across the room. Fred’s party was in full swing. The music was loud and the top hats bobbed to Fred’s favorite Victorian StemetricNeuDiskoHous that steamed from each corner of the room. The ladies kept circulating to keep spirits up — both feelings and liquids, and then later phantoms.

Belle was very tired. Belle looked over at her husband and held her heavily pregnant belly. She winced and showed concern, but then her smile refreshed without hitting her eyes. Eb moved at this immediate cue.

Eb had seen her distress before as her pregnancy had been difficult, but he had hoped to make some new connections at this party. He had failed; time to get both of his ladies home to rest.

Eb excused himself as he wove his way over to Belle. “Good Christmas Eve, all. How do you do?” he said at Belle’s small group.

Fred and his wife smiled back. Fred loved Christmas as much as old Fezziwig but the cost of these parties seemed to stretch their meager finances. Seaqwell was being replaced by FramesOfDatum or PolarBears. Fred’s head was still a bit raw as he started to apply the needed twist to his cranium in order to handle the newest metaphors.

Fred told his uncle, “Happy Christmas, uncle. My new aunt was trying to escape all the fun, but I think I can understand. My cousin is ready to open gifts perhaps! Maybe the stork can outrace St. Nick tonight!”

The draft blew as the guests left Fred’s party to their own phantoms. The child and old man phantoms, in contrast, stood in silence. Eb saw them and knew, but could not stop what came next.

Eb laughed and touched his hat but could not tip it, “You are right, Fred. Another wonderful Christmas Eve here tonight. Next Christmas Eve will have three Scrooges, not two; please plan for more roast goose.”

Fred produced a small gift and said, “Well, for the three Scrooges here now, please, Eb, open this from my family to your soon-to-be-larger one.”

Eb pulled open the gift’s ribbon and saw the red and green newborn booties. “Tammy” was carefully knit into them by someone’s hand. Belle smiled and this did hit her eyes.

“Oh, dear, Fred. What a wonderful gift!” said Belle with deep affection.

“I am afraid we come less well prepared. Sorry — it’s been a lot, getting the nursery set up on my own. Your gift is coming, I swear, but maybe a bit late. Please do pardon.”

Fred dismissed this, “Please, another Scrooge is gift enough, Belle.”

Eb smiled as he said, “My wife is heroic. Perhaps a new Hercules? Or at least, my Hercules.”

Belle wryly added, “Well, as much as I would enjoy relieving myself of Eb’s heavy burden tonight, I hope for just a good night’s rest for my Christmas Present.”

Fred said, “Well, dream of sugar plums, aunt Belle. Please rest well.”

Eb and Belle left the room for a waiting carriage. The old man covered his eyes with his hands as he faded from sight.