Holidazed
by MR
At night the sky seems to go on forever. I think
that’s the one thing about the Northern Areas I’ll
never get used to. Always makes me think of Fraser’s
“walking in the sky.” Nights like tonight it seems
like you could just step up into the heavens as easy
as climbing stairs.
“Did you enjoy the program?” I glance over at Fraser.
That’s another strange thing about the night sky this
far north; if it isn’t overcast you can see clear as
if it were daylight outside.
It’s been years since I saw a church Nativity pageant.
“Is there some sort of universal rule that the kids
who play shepherds have to wear their old man’s
bathrobe?”
Fraser laughs. He’s laughed more in the last six
months than he did the entire two years we spent in
Chicago. “You were a shepherd yourself?”
“And I always got stuck wearing the old man’s
bathrobe. I mean, I can understand how when you’re
eight or nine and live in Chicago your idea of what
exactly shepherds wear could be a bit loose. But I
never did figure out where the bathrobes came into
it.” The snow crunches under our boots. “What were
you?”
“Oh, usually a shepherd. I was one of the wise men
once or twice, when I got older.”
“I always wanted to be a wise man. You do not wanna
know how bummed out I was when I found out the wise
men didn’t show up until Jesus was a year old.”
“Why would that ‘bum you out’?”
I shrug. “I was heavily into rebellion against my
upbringing. Which meant, of course, that I refused to
go to church. I told mom that if they’d lie to me
about the wise men, who knew what else they weren’t
telling the truth about.”
“I can’t see that going over well.”
“It didn’t. Just one of those things you get in your
head when you’re a kid.”
“Why did you want to be a wise man?”
“Cause they got the cool costumes. Mary and Joseph
and the shepherds all dressed pretty much alike, but
the wise men got to wear robes and crowns and bring
gifts.” We walk a ways in companionable silence.
Always used to hate silence when I was in Chicago.
That was before I found out how beautiful real silence
could be.
Fraser looks over at me. “The Christmas I was 11,
there was a severe shortage of children in the church
my grandparents and I attended. Besides Eric, June
and me there were, I believe, only three or four
others at most. And June came down with strep throat
two nights before the pageant. Eric and I were firmly
convinced that Miss Terravin was going to have a
nervous breakdown, because how can you hold a Nativity
pageant without Mary?”
“So June was the only girl?”
“The story of her life, I’m afraid. I can’t remember
if Eric suggested the idea to her or if Miss Terravin
thought of it herself…” he cleared his throat
self-consciously.
“You weren’t!”
“I’m sorry to say I was. As the oldest, she felt I
was the best suited to portray Mary.”
“That is disgusting!” I smack his arm. “Christ, it’s
no wonder you turned out unhinged!”
“I was simply very grateful that, as a modest young
woman, Mary kept herself well wrapped.”
“You poor guy. And I thought having to wear my dad’s
bathrobe was the height of uncoolness. You were 11
and cross-dressing.”
“Ray!”
“Well you were! It was in the interest of the arts,
but you were still pretending to be a girl.”
“At least we didn’t have a live baby like they did
tonight. I had enough trouble knowing what to do with
June’s doll Emmaline.”
“So Baby Jesus was a girl too?”
“The pageant went ahead on the assumption that no one
would know the difference. Except June and Eric, and
since June wasn’t there, she couldn’t complain.”
I grin at the idea of Fraser as Mary and turn around
to walk backwards, staring up at the stars. “The big
thing at St. Anthony’s was to be Mary. Or an angel,
especially the Herald angel. The Herald angel had the
most lines, and they had to be able to sing. So it
was almost always a girl. I thought for the longest
time that angels were girls.”
“I would think the fact they were named Michael and
Gabriel would’ve given you some sort of clue.”
“I just figured it was a Biblical thing.”
We’ve reached the outskirts of town. It being
Christmas Eve almost everything is closed, though the
Road to Hell Saloon seems to be doing brisk business.
“What time do we have to be at Maggie’s tomorrow?”
“Not before noon. I really wish she’d let us help her
prepare the meal; she’s got enough on her mind with
David as a house guest.”
“It’s nice she finally met someone. Figures she’d
marry another Mountie; gotta keep it in the family.
Provided, of course, that big brother approves.”
“I’m sure that David is a fine young man. Maggie
would hardly be dating him otherwise.”
“Ah, never know. Could be he’s one a them bad-boy
Mounties you hear about.”
“Bad-boy Mounties?”
“Yeah. I got one myself. They’re kinda hard to find
though. Takes a while to dig down underneath all
those layers of politeness.”
“I can imagine.” Fraser’s smiling at me in that way
that makes me fall in love with him all over again.
“And where did you find this bad-boy Mountie? Because
as a member of the RCMP, I should, perhaps, warn the
District Office to keep their eyes open.”
“Chicago. Not sure they exist here in the wild. I
think you gotta take them somewhere warm and shake
them up a little.”
Still smiling, he grabs the front of my jacket and
pulls me in for a kiss. When we finally break apart
we stand there grinning at each other like idiots.
“Last one to the hotel gets to be on top.” I whisper,
then I shove him into a snow bank and take off down
the street. Don’t need to look behind me to see if
he’s following. I know he is.
FIN
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