Tessie D

I didn’t go home for Christmas. I was going to. I’d planned on it and was looking forward to spending a few days with Momma, Daddy, and Annie.

I called Momma on Wednesday night to talk about the holiday, but as soon as she answered the phone, I could tell something was off from the way that she said, “Hello.”

Turns out that things was just as bad now as it ever was. Daddy didn’t have the money to pay to put down fertilizer and weed killer in the fall, so the hay came up sparse and full of stickers. Daddy bailed it but couldn’t sell it to cattle ranchers and didn’t get as much when he sold it to a few Mexican families to feed their goats.

Momma took a bunch of extra shifts to pay for the electric bill and property taxes at the end of next month.

She was going to be working doubles on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, so there wasn’t going to be anything special to eat. When I mentioned having Christmas presents for everyone, she suggested that I take them back to the store and just send her the money instead.

So, that’s what I did. I took them all back, put a check in a Christmas card, and sent it to Momma through the mail.

Daddy didn’t even want to talk to me on the phone to wish me a happy holiday. I could hear him coughing in the background, probably sitting at the dining room table in his underwear with his head in his hands.

So, I’d resolved that I’d be spending the holidays by myself, curled up on the couch watching Christmas movies that I’d rented for the occasion. No Momma and Daddy. No Angel since he was going home to be with his family. He’d invited me to come with him to spend the day with him and his family, but it seemed a bit presumptuous. And, maybe I was a bit of a coward. Meeting Angel’s friends and ex-girlfriend reminded me just how different our families and backgrounds were. His family did everything “right” and proper, and they were rewarded for it: They were respectable and respected. I came from a family of poor farmers with dubious connections to historical figures that gave us an inflated sense of self-worth.

Still, when Mrs. Owens found out I wasn’t going home for the holidays, she invited me over to spend Christmas Day with her family. I tried to reassure her that I was fine spending the day by myself. I was almost able to convince myself that it would be an opportunity to rest and relax, doing exactly what I wanted to do by myself.

But she saw straight through it and insisted that I come over to their house for lunch. She reminded me that I could sleep in and enjoy time to myself in the morning and then come over for lunch with their family.

So, I picked up a poinsettia at the grocery store on Christmas Eve so that I wasn’t showing up empty-handed and drove over to the dairy just before lunch.

I pulled up to the Owens’ house a little before noon. I’d spent the morning sleeping in, taking a long hot shower, and making myself a little breakfast. The house was quiet since my roommates had gone home to see their families. It was a chilly day, but I’d decided that I wouldn’t let the grey skies reflect my mood. I’d given myself a bit of a pep talk while getting ready that morning. I could make this a wonderful day if I wanted to: I had people who cared and wanted to spend their holiday with me. I had Angel, even if he wasn’t here. I had a job, a little bit of money, and roommates who’d become my friends. And, while they might be struggling right now and I wasn’t going to see them this year, I also had Momma, Daddy, and Annie.

When I got to the Owens’ house, I stepped out of the car. The wind was calm [what would it look like in Texas on Thanksgiving day. Leaves had fallen off the pecan and live oak trees. Bare branches.] I could see Mr. Owens and the boys out in the barn. I knocked softly on the door and let myself in. I walked into the kitchen, where Mrs. Owens was standing at the counter, mashing potatoes by hand in a big bowl. Next to her was a baking pan with a dozen dinner rolls, brown and glistening from the hot butter. I could smell the ham baking in the oven.

I set down the poisensetta on the corner of the counter. When Mrs. Owens saw me, her face lit up, and she pulled me in for a hug.

“There you are! Just in time!”

I rested my head on her shoulder and squeezed her back. She was round and soft and smelled faintly of baby powder.

She finally released me from her hug but still held me at arm’s length for a moment. Her warm face seemed to glow from the inside out.

“Get the plates and glasses out of the hutch in the dining room and set the table for me, will you?”

She gently turned me toward the dining room, and I started pulling the porcelain plates and bowls up from the lower cabinets and setting them on the table. I pulled the etched crystal glasses from the upper cabinet and began setting the table for 5.

“Oh no, honey, we’ll need to set it for 6,” she winked.

“Six?” I asked, and at that moment, the front door opened, and Angel walked through the door, the light from the open door brightening up the living room. The wooden screen door closed behind him.

He saw me, and a smile spread across his face.

“Well, look who it is,” Mrs. Owens said and grinned back at me.

My heart fluttered in my chest, and I felt the warmth in my cheeks.

He was here. He’d chosen to be with me over the holiday.

“Well, don’t you look festive,” Angel said, walking toward Mrs. Owens.

“Come here and hug my neck,” she said. Angel obeyed, and I smiled, watching the two of them together. I’d always imagined the holidays like this.

Mrs. Owens sent Angel out to the barn to see what Mr. Owens and the boys were up to. In the meantime, we worked in the kitchen, getting dinner ready. Ham, mashed potatoes, corn casserole, green bean casserole, Parker house rolls.

Mrs. Owens handed me a whisk and a bowl with cold heavy cream. “Get to it,” she said.

“How long have you and Mr. Owens been married?” I asked.

Mrs. Owens looked at me and smiled.

“Oh, goodness. Longer than a coon’s age.”

Then she told me about how she and Mr. Owens had gone to high school together and how he’d joined the army after graduation. She waited two years for him, writing letters back and forth and seeing him when he could take some time off and come home. One summer, he came home on leave and proposed. They were married two months later at the First Baptist Church, which she and her family had been members of since she was a child. She wore her best Sunday church dress, and they had cake and punch in the rectory afterward with their closest family and friends. She stayed home while Mr. Owens went overseas since she’d gotten pregnant right away. He came home on leave for two weeks, and luckily, the baby came during that time. She moved with him to Colorado for the last year of his service, and they saved up money to move back to Texas and buy a little dairy that they’d been managing ever since.

“We’ve lived a wonderful life and have been very happy. I hope that one day you find that for yourself and are just as happy as I am.”

Angel and I stayed through lunch and into the afternoon, sitting at the dining room table after the plates were cleared and the kitchen was cleaned, playing dominoes. I’d never played, but Angel sat next to me and coached me along.

Later that afternoon, Angel followed me back to my house and came inside carrying a large, badly wrapped box.

“Merry Christmas, Tess.” Inside, there was a basket full of flower seed packets and a book about designing flower beds.

“For when you have your own house and yard. A place all your own.”