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| Sunday, 12 December 2004 |
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A story of Christmas : An angel at the doorstep by Rohan Jayawardane
Every single time too! In fact, he already had a collection of twenty-four glasses and thought it might make a damn fine wedding gift for some silly sucker! He smiled darkly to himself over this cheap inspiration, but it was actually a manifestation of his distaste for the ceremonial aspects of weddings. David Smith had an aversion for Christmas! too! Within his tortured soul he found most things about life to be distasteful or un-reliable, and he viewed the daily routine of his employment and bachelor-existence with acid cynicism. He would endure this life grimly until death claimed him sooner or later, he had decided. Perhaps sooner would be better, in fact! The Evening When he reached his small bachelor apartment on this twenty-third day of December, it was late in the evening and a pleasant glow of twilight permeated the environ with a warm feel of sunkissed tropicality. Nevertheless, it left no impression upon his austere soul as he opened the door and quickly glanced through the mail that he found lying on the floor. "Bloody Christmas cards," he muttered with a sour turn of his mouth even as he opened the first one. "To my darling son" it started. It was from his mother. She had not seen him for several years but he opted to frown as he read through her tender endearments as though it were a taste of vinegar! He flung the card unceremoniously into a far corner of the room and opened the next one. It was from his ex-fiancee Noelle, who unfailingly greeted him at this happiest time of year. "For my dearest love," it started and he groaned in his chest as if in pain. Why the hell couldn't this girl find someone else and stop writing to him? Seven years and she still refused to quit! That beautiful card too was brutally consigned to the same corner of the room in which all of the garbage seemed to gather in alarming fashion. He didn't pause to wonder even for one moment over the mystique of a lovely young woman who persisted with her love for him despite the violent transformation that had taken place in the man she had always thought to be gentle and lovable. David threw the rest of his mail on a table and quickly opened his bottle of whisky. This was his medicine as well as an integral element of daily nourishment that he absorbed into his rapidly deteriorating body. He had been this way ever since a motor accident had impaired his nervous system, and left him with a disability in his hands, which prevented him practising as a Draughtsman. His work had been his life and his love, outside of the caring Noelle, his childhood sweetheart. Margaret As David began to sink gradually into pleasant liquor-induced languor within the solitude of his whisky-oriented domestic life, there was s sharp tap on his door. He swore softly under his breath and flung the door open. On the doorstep however stood little Margaret, the waif from next door with the pixie-face and large translucent eyes. His heart immediately began to melt. "Hi Maggsie, what's the buzz?" he asked. This awful man actually loved that little brat! "Uncle Dave," she said haltingly, "I want to ask you a small favour." "Oh sure, darling, fire away" he said with a grand gesture. "Can you please,.... please, take me to the Midnight Mass tomorrow at the Church? Please,....Uncle Dave?" David Smith's heart nearly stopped with a thud. He had not been in a church in about six or seven years and he had no faith whatsoever in any 'God'! But what could he do in these circumstances? Mummy "What's wrong with Mummy?" he parried temporarily, hoping for a way out. "She's got the flu, Uncle Dave, but I love to go.....and to listen to the lovely carols and all that. Please, will you take me?" her large eyes were imploring, and utterly sweet! A peculiar expression came over the man's face, and he slowly bent over and kissed the little child's cheek. "Of course, my darling Angel," he whispered, "I'll take you." She beamed all over her face and pranced off happily. "Thank you, Uncle, I knew you'll take me" she called out over her shoulder. He stood there staring at her flying pigtails in the knowledge that her elfin charm had just achieved what no adult person on the planet could ever have managed. An echo As David turned around after closing the door, a lizard on the wall clicked sharply and leaped straight into his glass which was precariously perched on the table, and knocked it over. He watched helplessly as the glass of whisky crashed to the floor and shattered into pieces. Somewhere on the ceiling another lizard's chicking seemed to 'chuckle' at him as it made its characteristic throaty sound. Chuckle? Chuckle?? Who the devil would be doing that up there, he wondered, staring upward with a confused expression. Christmas eve On the next evening, David walked into the church in a cold sober state holding on to Margaret's little hand tightly with his own rough fingers. He felt a little un-real and also somewhat conspicuous, but closed his mind to the numerous stares turned in his direction. "Probably imagine I came because I'm sober" he muttered, glaring back occasionally. A little later when the choir was singing the second verse of the song 'O Holy Night' - perhaps the most famous composition of Adolphe Adam - he seemed to start from a private reverie at a specific point: '....led by the light of faith serenely beaming, with glowing hearts by his cradle we stand....' Faith? A cradle? What is this faith? "What joy is there in life for me except a dull routine," he asked himself. "I wish they would be realistic!" At that instant there was a gentle magical touch upon his shoulder that was thrillingly familiar. He swung around. Smiling at him from the pew behind was the lovely Noelle, the wonderful girl he had never ceased to love despite the engagement he had broken off when his world had fallen to pieces. He had never expected to see her again. "A happy Christmas, my darling", she whispered and kissed him tenderly on his cheek. All of a sudden, the leaden lump in David's chest melted like molten rock and the warm blood coursed once more in his veins. The lines on his face softened and hot tears stung his eyes. His voice was surprisingly gentle as he whispered back: "A happy Christmas Noelle...........I love you still, my dear......" As the music soared out of the choir-loft, a happy little girl with an angelic expression sat beside him, all wrapped up in this most beautiful carol of Christmastide. But for David and Noelle it suddenly became their very own song of joy. |
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David carefully wrapped the bottle of whisky in brown paper and put it
inside his leather-bound briefcase. He always purchased this particular
brand of whisky because it came with a free complimentary glass, which was
a rare bonus from his point of view.
