Quarantined for Christmas

Third Place, adults' stories

Linda Gonzales |

12/18/2008 - 12/19/08

The trees stood naked against a quiet sunset. Streaks of brilliant orange, pink, and violet layered peacefully on the horizon. Helen watched from the back porch as the sun disappeared from the cold December sky. It was 5 o'clock, and night had set in. Yet it was so hot inside the house. The furnace was stoked up in high gear. Vaporizers spewed out streams of steam. Soup boiling on the stove wafted the sweet smell of chicken intermingled with the pungent odor of camphor. She had to escape for a few minutes — take some deep breaths and say a little prayer to God.

It was Christmas week, 1939, and the house had been quarantined for chicken pox. Her husband, Joe, wouldn't be home on Christmas. He had to stay away, or he couldn't go to work. She envied the fact that he had escaped the whole ordeal while she endured all
the sickness with her children alone. He stayed at his sister's house and was putting in lots of overtime, working in place of other men who wanted to be with their families for the holidays. There was no other choice. With 10 children and little income, this is how it had to be.

Sylvan was the oldest, just turned 17; then Bobby, 15; Jimmy, 13; Billy, 12; and Kenny, 9. Barbara was 7; Vernon, 5; Rita, 3; and the twins — Joey and Jerry — were 18 months old. Helen had her hands full every day of the year, but this year was especially hard.

"Mom, can't we at least go out and buy a little tree?" Sylvan was begging. "Bobby, Jimmy and I will pay for it. It's the little kids that will miss it. Bad enough we don't have presents."

"Nobody leaves this house. Go read that red sign hanging on the door," Helen answered. She didn't see the point in doing anything for Christmas this year. No Joe, and everybody sick, imprisoned in their own home. She had no feeling of the spirit of the holidays. But she didn't want to make the kids feel any worse, so she added, "Next time dad stops by, I'll ask him about it. OK?"

"Our gift this year is nothing," Kenny stated from the stool he was sitting on across the kitchen. He had been the one to get sick first, bringing the chicken pox home from school and then catching the flu on top of it. Barbie and Vernon were the next to be infected. Rita was holding her own, and the twins were starting to get fussy. The four older boys were all spared — by the grace of God, Helen assumed — to help her out.

"Kenny, that's not true. Have faith, son," Helen told him. She felt guilty about ignoring all the rituals she'd normally be doing at this time in a good year. Even though they had little money, she was always able to make Christmas a special time for everyone. In that moment, looking at Kenny's thin and forlorn face, she felt the full force of the heaviness hanging over the household and could bear it no longer. She had to shake off her own gloom and rise to the occasion.

"OK guys, we have two days. Think we can do it?"

"Do what?" Billy asked.

"Why, turn this old place into a holiday showcase, that's what! Let's do it for our very own enjoyment — just us. What do you say? Can we pull it off?"

Helen was inspired. A fun challenge was what they all needed.

"What, exactly, are you talking about?" asked Jimmy. He, of all the boys, was feeling deprived. He missed the choir, the Christmas concert, his annual box of chocolates from the choir director, and serving as altar boy at High Mass on Christmas morning. But he did like the idea of his dad being locked out, so to speak. He was as good a candidate as any to cheer up the place.

"Count me in," he said.

"Well, let's make some something warm to drink and talk about it," Helen suggested as she pulled down the boxes of cocoa and powdered milk. "We'll make a list and assignments and check out supplies and all that. We'll have to decide what gets done first — like decorate the house before we start baking."

"Let's bake something as a treat to have while we're working," Bobby suggested. "How about fudge or popcorn balls?"

He was the one who always managed to get his brothers into trouble. But this time he made sense.

"That's true, Mom. If it's just us, we make our own rules," Sylvan added. "How about chocolate-chip cookies?"

"I'm with you guys. We'll need to nourish and pamper ourselves — cause 'we' is all we have." Helen held up an empty cup in a toast. "To a great holiday!"

"To a great holiday," they all chimed in.

Helen was pleased that she handled the situation so well. Back in position on the back porch to watch another wintry sunset, she drew the cold, frosty air deep into her lungs. It was Christmas Eve and inside the house there was a totally different look, energy, and sound. Doorways were strung with garlands of popcorn and paper chains made from unused Christmas wrapping paper. Since they had no tree, Helen had the boys string the tree lights around the big picture window in the living room. The radio was tuned in to holiday music and the smell of camphor and sickness had given way to sweet breads and cookies baking in the oven.

At Joe's appointed time to visit, the knock came at the front door. Ordinarily he would knock once at the door, then walk over to the living room window. But this night, the knock at the door continued. Helen turned on the porch light. They all raced to the front door to peer out through the steamy glass. Snow had been falling all day, accumulating on every conceivable surface, adding a magical winter wonderland feeling to this special night.

"Merry Christmas," Joe was mouthing. Though he was a man who normally appeared to be overwhelmed and burdened by his large troop of children, in the porch light there was a definite softness to his looks. He stood there holding up a large pine tree for their inspection and approval. Behind him sat a wagon overflowing with neatly wrapped presents. On the porch floor sat a rack of milk and eggs and a whole ham tied up in a burlap cloth. His nose was red and swollen a bit, from the cold or from drinking spiked punch at the company Christmas party earlier that afternoon. It didn't matter.

As the kids crowded around the windows for a better look, their eyes filled with wonder, and Helen's eyes filled with tears. No one could believe the sight before them. For a moment, it looked like Joe might tear up as well, but he didn't. Instead he motioned them to come out and get all the stuff, and then he hurried off, like Santa Claus disappearing into the darkness.

Christmas had found a way in after all.