Two for the Yule
By JPYoung
Some time ago
As Christmas carols played from their stereo, Fran paused decorating their living room to watch her husband. Phil never showed any emotion except laughter but moved slower than usual.
It was their first Christmas without ‘Tatie’; his beloved late Aunt Micheline. She’d not only been his best friend, confidant and tutor in offbeat ways of life, but she’d done the same for their daughter ‘Mish’. It was also their first Christmas without Mish;a Royal Australian Air Force officer unable to come home.
They knew it wouldn’t be their last Christmas without her…
Since Tatie’s death, Phil walked the streets, lingered in sidewalk cafés and rode the trains…alone.
Sometimes she’d invite him for coffee with some of her friends.
‘It’s healthy to converse with other people.’
‘Nobody here converses; they only tell sagas about themselves.’
Neither of them talked about themselves, and nobody except Fran, Mish and the Sanfords talked to Phil.
‘Who needs anyone else?’, Phil questioned.
He’d recite arcane literary references, cryptic bons mots or ancient shibboleths delivered in a sardonic manner that went over their heads. His jokes and anecdotes were met by tremendous outbursts of silence…
His stare creeped them out.
‘If your husband doesn’t show emotion, he’ll go insane’, her girlfriends told her.
‘Phil doesn’t go insane, he drives everyone else insane’, Fran answered.
She begged her girlfriends to engage her husband in conversation,
‘Tell me about Africa, Phil.’
‘What’s black and white and red all over and has trouble going through a revolving door?’
‘What?’
‘A nun with a spear stuck through her.’
He killed conversations like he killed people…What she called ‘thoughtlessness’, he called ‘sympathy impaired’.
His work as a professional soldier of fortune in ‘the sharp end’ never bothered him; he regarded ‘PTSD’ as dyslexic initials for ‘Egomaniac present! Look at ME!’
He was never bothered by her past in what he called ‘the extreme hospitality industry’; few men could do that…
Both occupations required them to mentally ‘switch off’.
Over the years she read him by looking into his eyes. When he’d go into his death stare, she telepathically picked up his thoughts.
‘Deck the Halls with Boughs of Holly…’
He was reading her mind again without looking at her as he decorated their tree. He sang when he realised she was studying him…
He turned as she silently crept towards him giving her one of his heavenly embraces.
‘All we have are each other, Cara Mia.’
‘That’s enough for me, mon beau cher.’
She grabbed the star ornament; he raised her up where she put it on top of the tree.
‘Make a wish’, he sang When You Wish Upon a Star…
I’ll always love you, but I wish you had someone to spend time with like your Auntie…
‘What am I going to do with you, mon cher?’
‘Amami per sempre...’
They kissed and embraced; their telephone rang.
‘Mama! Dad! Last minute changes! I’ll be home for Christmas!’
‘You’ve got your wish!’, Phil laughed.
‘I’m not coming home alone, is that all right?’
‘It certainly is! Someone special?’
‘Very special!’
After the call Fran elatedly proclaimed Mish had a boyfriend!
‘Our daughter does not have a “boyfriend”! She has a gentleman caller…’
‘It must be serious if she’s bringing him home to meet us!’
Christmas Eve
They heard the taxi drive up to their home; to their surprise Mish was on her own carrying a very large box. The taxi driver carried her luggage inside.
Has she fallen in love with a local cabbie?
Mish put her large box down on the dining room table, then paid the driver.
Fran couldn’t hide her disappointment,
‘We thought you were coming home with someone special.’
‘I did…Mama…Dad…there’s someone who wants to meet you.’
Fran ran to the door and looked; would he be driving a sports car? Why did Mish take a taxi?
‘Over here, Mama…Happy Christmas…’
She opened the lid of the large box…
‘Awwwwwwww!’
Two white poodle puppies looked up at them then at each other,
I like them…they look easy to train…
Phil gave their tall daughter a monstrous hug and lifted her up as the poodles watched,
Awwwwwwww!
‘What are their names?’
What ARE our names?
‘That’s up to you? Who do you love the most?’
‘We love you, Mish.’
‘What couple makes you happy, Dad?
‘Martin and Lewis?’
The poodles gave Phil a stare that made the women guffaw.
‘Don’t be a dag, Dad; and don’t say Laurel and Hardy either.’
‘Gonzorgo and Roderiga?’
The male poodle snarled and showed his teeth, the female gave an oh, so French expression combining ennui with disgust.
Simultaneously the human’s eyes widened, their mouths dropped and they gasped,
‘TATIE!!!’
Fran knew Phil was never happier…
‘What couple do you love who makes you laugh the most, Mama?’
‘Laugh with, not at’, her husband clarified.
She recalled her father taking her to the local Italian club film night back in Durban.
‘Franco and Ciccio!’
The male poodle wagged his tale, the female gave a questioning look.
‘Ciccio’s masculine…’, Phil remarked.
‘Ciccia?’
The female wagged her tail as well.
Flying Officer Micheline Jeanne Danté’s parents picked up and hugged the puppies whose tails wagged vigorously.
Everyone thought,
We’re together again for the first time…
FIN
Author Notes: Happy Christmas!
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