Thirteen
By Christmas time, things were settling down around my house. I decided not to put up a tree at all. Walter had always climbed the pull-down attic steps to retrieve the Christmas decorations and huge artificial tree we erected each year, but neither Blanche nor I had any business trying such a thing. With all the time I had spent visiting Eddie, I hadn’t had time to miss the decorations.
Every year, I gave Blanche a sizable bonus at Christmas and I made sure her family’s name was on the list of Christmas charities I supported. I wanted her children to have a decent Christmas without being embarrassed or beholden to me, so I kept my benevolence at arm's length. At least, that's what I told myself I was doing. Blanche's children soon proved me wrong once again.
I remember sitting by the fire one night thinking about the holidays of the past. It was the night I finally burned Marcus’s clothes, as a matter of fact. I had forgotten to call the chairman of the Needy Family program at the Baptist church to remind her about Blanche. I also had a feeling, which turned out to be accurate in the end, that my absence from the Ladies’ Auxiliary over the past year would not put me in good stead with that group. I thought about buying gifts for the children myself and quickly pushed that thought aside. What did I know about buying gifts for children? I didn’t know their tastes in toys or clothes, much less their sizes.
That’s when I thought about the bag of clothes that was still up in my closet. Blanche had been gone for hours. There was no reason I couldn’t finally rid myself, once and for all, of the evidence I’d been hiding. I put my embroidery on the lamp stand, rose from my chair and walked over to the fire, which was burning low in the grate. The black metal screen, which kept the popping embers from scorching my thick oval rug, was warm to the touch. I moved it aside, reached for the wrought iron poker hanging in its stand and nudged the glowing logs. They crackled and hissed, then settled back down to an orange glow. I left the screen where it was and went upstairs to retrieve the clothes.
I remembered washing Marcus’s bloodstained pants and shirt several times before I placed them in a paper grocery sack and set them on the top shelf of my closet. So I was surprised by the strong odor that rose from the bag when I brought it down and unrolled the top. Old blood has a distinct smell, especially when it is competing with bleach and detergent.
I took the clothes downstairs and burned them, grocery bag and all. The house smelled peculiar for days, even though I sprayed Claire Burke Vapourri liberally throughout the following week. Blanche remarked on it one day.
“What’s that awful smell you tryin’ to cover up, Miz Ora?”
My heart nearly stopped beating.
“I think maybe a squirrel or something died in the chimney flue. It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?”
“You want me to call somebody ‘bout it?” she asked.
“No, I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s the holiday season; by the time we get somebody out here to check on it, the smell will have worn itself out. Let’s just let it be for a few days.”
“Awright,” she said reluctantly. “If you say so.”
I was still tiptoeing around Blanche for the most part. She managed to settle back into her routine. In fact, she seemed busier than usual, but there was something missing in her that I wasn’t sure she’d ever reclaim. I missed the long, easy chats we used to have over coffee and morning chores.
A week or so before Christmas, Blanche and I were putting groceries away when I asked nonchalantly if she’d finished all her Christmas shopping.
“I ain’t even started, Miz Ora,” she sighed.
“What do you mean you haven’t started?”
“It just don’t seem like Christmas this year. I can’t make myself even think about a Christmas list without my boy’s name on it.”
What was I thinking? I told Blanche she was off the list at the church, so gifts from them would not be forthcoming. I even gave her an extra hundred dollars to make up for the slight, but it hadn't even occurred to me that she wouldn’t feel up to buying gifts for her children.
“Blanche, you can’t do this.”
“It’s all right, Miz Ora. The girls understood when I told ‘em. They said they don’t feel much like celebratin’ either.”
“And you took that as the truth?” I demanded. “It’s Christmas, Blanche!”
“You ain’t got to tell me somethin’ I already know.”
I knew that tone. It meant Blanche would not be moved.
“I’ll tell you what,” I said, making my voice equally stubborn, but somehow still pleasant. “We’ll have Christmas here.”
Blanche protested, but I cut her off.
“Now, I know you aren’t feeling up to the task and I understand why,” I said using all the logic and persuasion I had learned teaching Sunday school. “But, we have to start somewhere to get your family back to normal.”
Blanche just huffed and shrugged her shoulders.
“Besides, it’s my first Christmas without Walter. I could really use the company.” I wasn’t lying when I said it, but I was a bit surprised when my heart gave a little lurch at the thought.
“That's real kind of you to say, Miz Ora, but I know you just being nice. You ain’t complained once about being by yourself.”
“Well, just because I haven’t complained doesn’t mean I haven’t felt it, Blanche. I’m serious. I want you and the girls here for Christmas. I want a huge tree and decorations and lots of presents under the tree. It’s not just my first Christmas without Walter. It’s the first time I haven’t been involved in all the charities and holiday functions we did together.”
“Y’all sho’ did do a lot of charity. I been wondering why you ain’t still involved in all that.” Blanche was not being intrusive, just candid.
I pulled a couple of packets of Earl Grey tea from the pantry, and then busied myself putting water in the kettle and heating it on the stove. Blanche took two teacups down from the cabinet, opened the packets I had left on the counter and hung the teabags over the edge of the cups. We were quite a team, I thought. One starts a task and the other finishes without a word being spoken.
I turned to face her and put my hands on my hips. “To tell the truth, I hadn’t thought past my relief at being freed of the obligation. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy the work Walter and I did. I guess it’s just that I never felt like I had a choice in the matter.”
“I know just what you mean,” Blanche said under her breath.
“But I do have a choice now, and I would love for you and your children to spend Christmas with me this year.”
“You ain’t got to do this, Miz Ora.” I could tell Blanche was softening.
“I’m well aware of that,” I replied.
“I just don’t think I’m up to it is all.”
“Well, you think about it and let me know,” I said reasonably. “In the meantime, I’m going to get the girls to get my tree down from the attic. Even if they don’t have any presents, I think it will be good for them to help me decorate my house.”
“Yes, Ma’am, I think they’ll like that a lot,” Blanche said.
The whistle sounded on the teakettle and we dropped the conversation as we had our tea together.