The Carnation [DRAFT] [UPDATED 2/14/2023]

 They were all there, Mom,  Jenny, and even Dad. "I'm so happy we can all be here," Johnny thought. It was midnight Mass at St. Vincent of the Cross. It was sparsely populated, with some regulars and some holiday worshippers, and Johnny and his family in the back, so to not draw attention to themselves. They didn't come often, and Johnny's Dad wanted to avoid the Priest.

Dad had finally agreed to Mom's earnest pleas to be a "family," at least for Christmas. He begrudgingly came along. Hating it the whole it, hating her for making him come. He hated that Priest. The Priest had cornered him a few times, asking him questions; too many questions for his liking. The Priest was invading his personal space. 

Was Mom putting him up to this? He grew suspicious. He didn't need this place. He was fine, just how he was. The last thing he needed was some good-for-nothing Priest telling him what to do and how to live his life.

Candles were passed down each pew, and each was lit by the tiny flame of their neighbor's candle, eager to go to work and spread its light into the darkness of the century-old cathedral. Johnny was proud to hold his candle high and sing "Silent Night" with all his might.

"Tonight is special," he thought to himself, feeling a confidence that he hadn't felt. "Maybe tonight will be different."

The little family left the church quickly out the side door so as not to be seen by anyone. The last thing Johnny's father wanted was to run into the parish Priest face-to-face. He had been avoiding him since the last time they spoke, maybe a year ago, maybe more. The Priest was adamant that Johnny's father see him so they could have a "conversation" about things.

Johnny's family quickly walked home through the snow and up the walk to their two-story duplex. The snow was magical as it floated serenely down like gossamer. The flakes were so large and so light they seemed to be suspended mid-air before they were caught on his eyelashes. Jenny laughed as she tried to catch them on her tongue. Mom held Johnny's hand as they swung hands sweetly as they walked down the street. Floating on a cloud of newly fallen snow.

His Dad was about a block ahead, working on his second or third cigarette by now.  Hunched over, he was hurrying to get home. He was cold and upset that he was still up this late. He hated to be told what to do.

After arriving home, Johnny and Jenny got ready for bed, pulled on their pajamas, and brushed their teeth. Eagerly they asked Mom for a plate of milk and cookies to leave for Santa that special night. Mom quickly ran to the tiny kitchen, opened the old and broken-down refrigerator, poured a small glass of milk into a chipped mug with a Christmas tree on it, and found some old store-bought cookies. She brought the things to the kids, and they lovingly placed the few cookies and cup of milk for Santa on the table.

Proudly Johnny said, "This will make Santa happy."

"Yes, it will because it came from your heart," Mom said lovingly.

Johnny and Jenny ran up to bed, eager for Christmas morning.

Dad had other things on his mind. He wanted to go out to his "usual" hang-out and drink with his friends. He wanted to forget about his life. He opened his wallet, and there he saw a lone $5.

"Where the hell is my money, you bitch!", he barked at her. Still angry about the Priest and the "almost" encounter with him.

"I used some of it for presents for the kids. They deserve something; it’s Christmas", she said with tears in her eyes, her voice shaking.

"I'll tell you what you the hell you can and can't do. Now get out of my way! " He rose to strike her, but thought differently.

Dad left the apartment and entered the dark.

Truth be told, Dad was a bully; he always had been, even as a child, he was a bully. He was a coward. He hid behind his drinking and his violence. He took pleasure in it. It gave him control and dominance. Yes, he craved dominance. Just like alcohol, he craved to be in control. If he couldn't be in control, then there would be hell to pay. No one would disobey him. Not now, not ever! 

He took pride in his violence. 

There was really only one true love in Dad's life, one person that fulfilled him. That one person who meant the world to him that he couldn't live without - himself. Unfortunately, that love affair with himself came with a steep price. As the center of his own world, he was tortured by his own love for himself. He was perfect, at least in his eyes, and why can't everyone else be perfect too? "Just follow the goddam rules," he would say to repeat himself and anyone else who happened to be within earshot. But he was alone in his perfection, tortured by his own ego. The anger came and made a home in his heart, The anger turned to rage, and the rage replaced his loneliness. Rage - so much rage at anyone and anything that dare cross him. The transformation was complete. 

The water was cold; Johnny was on the couch again, and the dark water swirled around him, dark, sinister, and cold. It was enveloping him, rising and rising. With each breath, he struggled to get air. A faint light illuminated the room. There was a presence in the water too. Something was down there, watching him! He could see his toys swirling around him, the teddy bear he loved, the toy train, and his favorite book. The water kept rising. It was so cold. He saw cigarette butts and crushed beer cans, too, all circling around him. As things got closer, the water got higher, and breathing got more and more difficult. He couldn't breathe. He reached for his teddy bear. He slipped under the icy water. Icy, dark water filled his lungs. The eerie presence was there; the presence was familiar to him, that face! He knew that face but from where? It was so familiar; who was it? Who wanted to hurt him?

Johnny woke from this dream like he did each time, shaken, panting, and crying. He tried to keep his crying low so as not to wake anyone. He knew better than to call attention to himself. Johnny was smart. So instead, he walked across the small, low-ceiling bedroom to Jenny's bed, woke her up, and asked her for a hug. She knew what was going on. Jenny was five years older; she knew his dreams; she knew everything. She hugged him with all her might and kissed him on the forehead, and hugged him again.

"It's OK, Johnny, it's just a dream. Come lie down next to me and let's wait for Santa and Christmas morning."

Johnny wiped the tears from his eyes and curled up close to his older sister. She pulled up the blankets and covered them, making sure not to bump his left arm; it was bruised again.

Morning came, Christmas presents! Jenny and Johnny woke and ran downstairs. They each had a stocking and 1 gift under the tree. Mom was there waiting. She gave them a big hug and kiss.

"Merry Christmas, my loves!", she told them through hugs. 

"Open your gifts", she said with the smile of a mother that truly loved her children.

Dad was nowhere to be found. 

Jenny opened her gift first. It was a new book. Jenny loved to read. The stories gave her a chance to live out the life that she wanted. Live out a life far away from here. Free from the troubles of this house, free from her Dad. She had dreams, she wanted to go to college and study; she wanted to be a writer, or a nurse, or even a doctor. She didn’t know, but she wanted things. She wanted things to be better.

She wanted a to make a life that was so good, she could bring Johnny and Mom and they could live free and safe and happy. The kind of life she read bout in her books. Little houses with yards and gardens and fences. A dog?! Yes, a dog and a swing from a tree branch for Johnny. Oh, how Johnny loved to swing at the park. If we could have our own swing! That would be perfect.

Johnny looked in his stocking first. He found a huge candy cane, his favorite. This was so big he could spend the rest of the holiday happily eating it. He dug a little further in the red, felt stocking. The white cotton top felt good on his arm, cool and soothing; it comforted his bruise. Deep in the toe he found jacks! He loved jacks. Now he had his own! He was so proud. He showed Jenny and Mom .

By this time of the morning, Dad was string to wake from his drunken stooper. The small family of three had been getting a bit noisier than they had wanted, but it was Christmas. They wanted to enjoy this.

Dad came to the top of the stairs. “Stop all the goddamn noise!” His face was red, veins straining under the pressure.

“It’s Christmas Day. If you’re not going to join us, then just let us be. Go back to bed and leave us alone.”, Mom said as calmly and directly as she could. Trying desperately not to upset the kids. She had mustered the courage to speak. For the first time, she mustered the courage to stand up for herself, to stand up for her kids. 

“I don’t care what day it is,” he barked back. “And don’t you challenge me!” He was staring to form bits of foam in the corners of his mouth. Rage swept over his face. He was red now and sweating. Panting with each word as he barked at her.

Dad came storming down the stairs. He was upset now, no, he was pissed, hungover, maybe still a little drunk and angrier than he had ever been. Mom had just challenged him and his authority in his own home. He wasn’t about to let some woman tell him how to act or what to do in his house. This is was his house, he worked, he put money and food on the table. He made the decisions, He made the rules and they needed to follow them – no matter what. He was in charge.

Dad was in the room now, lips pursed and breathing labored, fists clenched. With eyes squinted he stared down Mom.

“How dare you tell me what to do! This is my house!” he yelled at the top of his voice. Spittle flew from his mouth out into the void between them. He huffed and swallowed. A blankness overcame him now; something inside him was in control now. He yelled, he bellowed and tore at his shirt. He ground his teeth and spit at her.

He panted now, chest heaving, he drew a deep breath.

Johnny and Jenny were scared. Sure, they had seen this before, but not at this level.

Dad hovered over Mom, with a sinister look of satisfaction, he raised his right hand and it came crashing down on her face. She fell to the floor, hard. With tears in her eyes, she wiped the blood from her lips. Her eye began to swell. Battered and bruised, she collected herself and took a deep breath. Jenny grabbed Johnny and held him close.

Mom slowly, courageously rose to her feet. Defiant, she stood there facing him eye to eye. Wiping blood from her mouth and eye, she stood tall. She glanced at her children for strength.  Mom knew what she had to do.

Dad rose up and sgain he struck her with his right hand. She fell to the floor again. Doubled over and in pain, she breathed hard, trying in desperate motions to gain air, she fell further to the floor.

“Now are you going to listen?" Dad roared, laughing. "I thought so, just lie there and think about that for a while."

Johnny tried to pull free.

Mom saw the tears in the eyes of her kids. They were scared and sad. Mom summoned all she had. With the courage she didn’t know she had, she pulled herself from the floor to a kneeling position.

With labored breathing she said to Dad, "Get the hell out of here. We don't need or want you here anymore. You're done hurting us. This is the last time. It ends today."

Mom was panting, aching from the beating she had already received but ready for more. Resting on one knee while she tried to regain her composure, she had a plan. Still bleeding from her lips, she wiped more blood away. Looking desperately at Johnny and Jenny, she shed a tear; she knew what was coming, and she was ready.

"For them," she thought to herself. "I'll protect them this way. They'll have a better life this way. He'll never hurt them again."

She steeled her nerves. She held her breath, ready for the inevitable blow. The blow of all blows. 

Dad turned his back and took a step back. Ruminating on this moment, ruminating on the Priest, on her defiance. 

"You insolent bitch!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "You made me do this!"

Johnny broke free from Jenny. 

Dad turned around, and with all his might, he kicked at Mom, hoping to break all her ribs and really teach her a lesson. Hoping that this was the lesson that would really teach her to stand up to him. He was in charge, goddamit, and she would learn it one way or another.

Johnny caught the full force of the kick. 

He sailed across the room and hit his head on the table. In an instant, his once lively table lay still on the floor. In a pool of blood, the jacks were cast out, sprawled just out of reach of his left hand.

Jenny screamed; Mom fell to the floor and rushed to Johnny's side.

Dad ran from the room.

The door slammed, and footsteps faded in the distance.

Mom cradled Johnny in her arms. With tears in her eyes, she cried. “My dear sweet boy, why did you do that? You're so young, so perfect. I could have handled it. I had a plan. I could have protected you. You already suffered enough from him." 

She pulled up his sleeve and tenderly touched the bruise on his arm. She kissed it in a way that only a mother could. In a way that says, "I love you, my angel."

Mom wept.

Mom wept like no one has ever wept before like no mother should ever have to weep.

Mom was alone in her sadness. The loneliness that knows no other, the loneliness without end, eternal sadness.

A few minutes later, Jenny returned with the Priest. "He finally did it, didn't he?" the Priest asked.

"Yes, Johnny was protecting us. Johnny was trying to save Mom from him.", Jenny said.

Through tears and more tears, Mom said, "Johnny gave his life to save me. It's not right. It's not right that God should take him from me, not like this, not now."

Mom wept.

Jenny wept.

The Priest wept.

Jenny and the Priest closed in and gave Mom an embrace that told of love beyond measure. Boundless love for Johnny and his sacrifice. Love for the sake of love. Love lost and dreams uprooted. An emptiness that would not and could never be filled. Love for a child lost in such a way as this. Trying to console her, they said a prayer and sat together in the only thing there was; silence.

 The Priest broke the silence, holding hands; he tenderly spoke the comforting words of the 23rd Psalm.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul..."

 Broken-hearted, every year after Christmas Mass, Mom went to the parish cemetery and left a single red carnation on Johnny's headstone.

There is one there today.