A Matter of Unimportance

15. Number Three

It was a fake tree. I know that a real tree would have been more festive, but I couldn't fathom staring at a dead tree in the home. Whaya taught me to protect plants better than that. Luckily she'd also taught me and my mother the beauty of Yule. I made that plastic tree beautiful.

In addition to the tree, I lit a menagerie of jolly Christmas scented candles, which helped bring about a festive mood and also maybe masked the smell coming from my closet a little bit.

Depending on the day, my efforts either made Grandfather Benjamin reluctantly amused or deeply annoyed. When he offered a slight smile to the Christmas tree I thought I was practically winning an award. When he griped about the mess I was making, I still tried to grin back. He was uncharacteristically accepting of Christmas. I wondered if I could recall any time my mom had mentioned he was a festive type. All I could remember was that she'd said her mother made the best baked goods for that holiday. She said she hung lights and sang almost as much as her husband did that time of year. I tried to imagine that if Grandfather Benjamin loved his late wife, then maybe that's where his slight smile was coming from.

With me around, he didn't devolve anywhere near as bad as he had in my absence. At the very least, the incontinence seemed to have stalled out. He did not try to leave the house without trousers again. He even seemed to drink slightly less and since I wasn't going to parties, I really focused on making dinner every night. He began eating better, as he always did when I paid good attention. He hadn't even brought up the fact that I'd blocked fox news on the television. It was a Christmas miracle.

We went to church on Christmas morning. I schmoozed and kept conversation and smiled when old women told Grandfather Benjamin that I was a "fine young man," and Grandfather Benjamin seemed to be in good spirits on our trek home. I'd had real dinner delivered, courtesy of his credit card. I let him watch a weird documentary about the birth of Christ and poured him fine whisky. It was shaping up to be one of our calm days.

At the end of the evening, I gave him a gift. We'd never exchanged gifts before and he didn't have something for me, which I was content with. Being reasonably nice to me for an entire day was all the gift I needed, but I'd still gotten something for him.

He unwrapped it with an almost confused look on his face. Then he saw it, small carved nativity pieces, delicately painted to show the aspects of tiny baby Jesus's birth in the manger. I'd nearly spent the last of my money from Whayas business on it. His smile was actually true.

"There's hope for you yet," he said to me, while ruffling my hair. There were no complaints about the length attached for once. It was the closest to a compliment he'd ever extended my direction.

They're typically a Christmas specific decor item, but for the rest of the time that we lived together, it would sit there on the shelf year round reminding me of the type of peace kindness could offer.

Shortly after, I put him to bed. It was easy to make him retire that night. Church days were exhausting for him. Grandfather Benjamin especially struggled with energy on days when we left the house, but also on days like that where I'd commanded his attention for so long.

I went for a walk after he went to bed because something in the air silently called for me to go outside. I was exhausted too. Wearing a suit always exhausted me. I was still in it and the collar felt suffocating until I released a few buttons down my chest. I think it would have been different if I'd stayed inside, but maybe it wouldn't have been. I'd made a mess for myself. Messes demand to be addressed.

I circled the block and then came back up my own street. As my own home came back into view, I had the unfortunate pleasure of laying my eyes on Adeline.