Blow My House Down

Chapter 36

I passed the den, peering through the cracked door. My mother was curled up on the couch watching re-runs of I Love Lucy. The only time she watched the show was if she was feeling very much under the weather. I knew not to tell her where I was going.

Micky was upstairs in my room, completely absorbed in one of my old science fiction novels. He knew where I was going, promising to wait up for me.

I buttoned my coat and walked out the door, glancing at the Christmas lights wrapped around the banister.

Every winter, it snowed in River City without fail. Unusual for most of California, but we lived close to the mountains. I had a special place in my heart for snow, particularly fresh snow. It was a love shared between myself and my father. My mother abhorred it -- she was a summer girl.

Usually, on Christmas Eve, the streets were bustling with the whole town running last minute Christmas errands. Or racing to work finish up that last assignment before the holidays. Now, in the 10 o'clock dark, the streets were quiet. Snow was drifting down gently, piling up over ice and old snow. It painted the picture of serenity.

I passed the grocery store, dark and silent, and saw something that made me stop. I saw the ghost of something old, something unforgettable. I saw my father sitting outside of the store, dressed up as Santa Claus, jingling a bell and guffawing. His stare pierced right through me and I shook my head, the image immediately vanishing. It was once again dark and silent. I continued on.

Even when the wind would howl and no children would come, but my father would still sit here, just in case one of them decided to come by and see him. He didn't want to let any child down. A couple years before, he developed pneumonia, and when he recovered, they decided to move him inside to make sure something like that would never happen again. I never liked to think of my father dying, but I thought that's how he would go -- doing something he loved.

I approached my destination, looking up at its daunting form. The largest church in River City used to scare me as a child, then only served to annoy me. Now it just reminded me of everything I could never believe in.

I stood in front of the church, my hands shoved deep in my coat pockets, and stared up at it in wonder. In the snow, it looked ethereal and magical, like something from a fairytale. Church had never been an important part of my life -- I used to sneak out in the middle of Mass -- but it was important to my parents.

I trudged through the snow and walked up the wide stone steps, pulling the door open and stepping into the warmth.

The church was empty, save for a few people who didn't have a family to go home to on Christmas Eve. Candles were lit everywhere; a picture of Jesus Christ intimidated me for some odd reason. It was strange to see him staring at me, watching me, as if he knew all I was.

I closed the door. The few people who were there glanced over their shoulder, then resumed their prayers.

I stood still, my brain fumbling. I didn't know what to do in a church. I didn't know where to begin.

"Kathleen," said a surprised voice. I cringed at the name. Father Thomas approached me with a warm smile. "I never expected to see you here again."

"Hello, Father Thomas," I greeted with a small smile. "It's been a while."

He took my hand in his. "Now, child. It's almost midnight on Christmas Eve -- what are you doing here?"

"I came here to pray," I replied. It wasn't true.

"Kathleen, you've never been religious." He chuckled. "I remember you used to slip out of the door in the middle of Mass."

I nodded and swallowed hard. "I know... It's just -- Dad used to come here all the time and pray. I thought maybe... I don't know... I thought maybe coming here would give me... give me a piece of him back."