fallen beach bum in his ridiculous costume, lyingover there like he’d been shot. She’d certainly shoot him if given half a chance.
“Oh great! Enrique has always wanted to see Christmas in the States. I’ve told him all about it. Isn’t this a wonderful surprise, Mom?”
“Oh, honey, I’m so thrilled,” Nora managed to get out with just enough conviction. “We’ll have a grand time.”
“Mom, no gifts, okay. Please promise me no gifts. I wanted to surprise you by coming home, but I don’t want you and Daddy running around right now buying a bunch of gifts. Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Great. I can’t wait to get home.”
You’ve been gone only a month, Luther wanted to say.
“Are you sure this is okay, Mom?” As if Luther and Nora had a choice. As if they could say, “No, Blair, you can’t come home for Christmas. Turn around, dear, and go back to the jungles of Peru.”
“I gotta run. We fly from here to Atlanta, then home. Can you meet us?”
“Of course, dear,” Nora said. “No problem. And you say he’s a doctor?”
“Yes, Mother, and he’s so wonderful.”
________
Luther sat on the edge of the sofa with his face stuck in his palms and appeared to be crying. Nora stood with the phone clutched in her hand and her hands on her hips, staring at the man on the sofa and debating whether or not to hurl it at him.
Against her better judgment, she decided not to.
He opened his palms just wide enough to say, “What time is it?”
“It’s eleven-fifteen, December twenty-fourth.”
The room was frozen for a long time before Luther said, “Why did you tell her we were having the party?”
“Because we’re having the party.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t know who’s coming or what they’re going to eat when they get here, but we’re having a party.”
“I’m not sure—”
“Don’t start, Luther. This was your stupid idea.”
“You didn’t think it was stupid yesterday.”
“Yeah, well today you’re an idiot. We’re having the party, Mr. Beach Bum, and we’re putting up a tree, with lights and decorations, and you’re going to get your little brown butt up on the roof and do Frosty.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
Another long pause and Luther could hear a clock ticking loudly somewhere in the kitchen. Or perhaps it was the steady pounding of his heart. His shorts caught his attention. Just minutes earlier he’d put them on in anticipation of a magical trip to paradise.
Nora put the phone down and went to the kitchen, where drawers were soon being slammed.
Luther continued staring at his colorful shorts. Now they made him ill. Gone were the cruise, the beaches, the islands, the warm waters, and the nonstop food.
How could one phone call change so much?
Thirteen
Luther slowly made his way to the kitchen, where his wife was sitting at the table, lists already under way. “Can we talk about this?” he pleaded.
“Talk about what, Luther?” she snapped.
“Let’s tell her the truth.”
“Another dumb idea.”
“The truth is always better.”
She stopped writing and glared at him. “Here’s the truth, Luther. We have less than seven hours to get this place ready for Christmas.”
“She should’ve called earlier.”
“No, she assumed we’d be here with a tree and gifts and a party, same as always. Who would ever dream that two otherwise sensible adults would skip Christmas and go on a cruise?”
“Maybe we can still go.”
“Another dumb idea, Luther. She’s coming home with her fiancé. Is this registering with you? I’m sure they’ll be here for at least a week. I hope so anyway. Forget the cruise. You have bigger problems right now.”
“I’m not doing Frosty.”
“Yes you are. And I’ll tell you something else. Blair will never know about the cruise, understand? She’d be crushed if she knew we’d planned it, and that she’d interfered. Do you understand me, Luther?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She thrust a sheet of
“Oh great! Enrique has always wanted to see Christmas in the States. I’ve told him all about it. Isn’t this a wonderful surprise, Mom?”
“Oh, honey, I’m so thrilled,” Nora managed to get out with just enough conviction. “We’ll have a grand time.”
“Mom, no gifts, okay. Please promise me no gifts. I wanted to surprise you by coming home, but I don’t want you and Daddy running around right now buying a bunch of gifts. Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Great. I can’t wait to get home.”
You’ve been gone only a month, Luther wanted to say.
“Are you sure this is okay, Mom?” As if Luther and Nora had a choice. As if they could say, “No, Blair, you can’t come home for Christmas. Turn around, dear, and go back to the jungles of Peru.”
“I gotta run. We fly from here to Atlanta, then home. Can you meet us?”
“Of course, dear,” Nora said. “No problem. And you say he’s a doctor?”
“Yes, Mother, and he’s so wonderful.”
________
Luther sat on the edge of the sofa with his face stuck in his palms and appeared to be crying. Nora stood with the phone clutched in her hand and her hands on her hips, staring at the man on the sofa and debating whether or not to hurl it at him.
Against her better judgment, she decided not to.
He opened his palms just wide enough to say, “What time is it?”
“It’s eleven-fifteen, December twenty-fourth.”
The room was frozen for a long time before Luther said, “Why did you tell her we were having the party?”
“Because we’re having the party.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t know who’s coming or what they’re going to eat when they get here, but we’re having a party.”
“I’m not sure—”
“Don’t start, Luther. This was your stupid idea.”
“You didn’t think it was stupid yesterday.”
“Yeah, well today you’re an idiot. We’re having the party, Mr. Beach Bum, and we’re putting up a tree, with lights and decorations, and you’re going to get your little brown butt up on the roof and do Frosty.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
Another long pause and Luther could hear a clock ticking loudly somewhere in the kitchen. Or perhaps it was the steady pounding of his heart. His shorts caught his attention. Just minutes earlier he’d put them on in anticipation of a magical trip to paradise.
Nora put the phone down and went to the kitchen, where drawers were soon being slammed.
Luther continued staring at his colorful shorts. Now they made him ill. Gone were the cruise, the beaches, the islands, the warm waters, and the nonstop food.
How could one phone call change so much?
Thirteen
Luther slowly made his way to the kitchen, where his wife was sitting at the table, lists already under way. “Can we talk about this?” he pleaded.
“Talk about what, Luther?” she snapped.
“Let’s tell her the truth.”
“Another dumb idea.”
“The truth is always better.”
She stopped writing and glared at him. “Here’s the truth, Luther. We have less than seven hours to get this place ready for Christmas.”
“She should’ve called earlier.”
“No, she assumed we’d be here with a tree and gifts and a party, same as always. Who would ever dream that two otherwise sensible adults would skip Christmas and go on a cruise?”
“Maybe we can still go.”
“Another dumb idea, Luther. She’s coming home with her fiancé. Is this registering with you? I’m sure they’ll be here for at least a week. I hope so anyway. Forget the cruise. You have bigger problems right now.”
“I’m not doing Frosty.”
“Yes you are. And I’ll tell you something else. Blair will never know about the cruise, understand? She’d be crushed if she knew we’d planned it, and that she’d interfered. Do you understand me, Luther?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She thrust a sheet of
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