Merry Christmas, Doris Day! Part One

     He kept bedside vigil. Held hands. Prayed to God. Pleaded and entreated. He held hands tighter. Tried another prayer, to Mary this time. Hail, holy Queen! Mother of mercy, our sweetness and our hope. Finally eyes flirted open followed by a pencil line of a smile. 

     "What are you saying? You've never prayed a day in your life!" were the comments from the bed.

     "I want you to be well. I want you to come home with me where you belong."

     "I will always be with you."

     "Stop! Just stop, okay? You're going to get well. You are going to come home to me."

     "Do me a favor. Go stand out in the hall with the door closed."

     "No. Why? Why would you want me to do that?"
     "To prove a point. Just do it."

     Hand were reluctantly let go. He exited the room and closed the door. From inside he heard, "Can you see me?"

     "Of course not. You told me to close the door."

     "But you can hear me?"

     "I answered you didn't I? Of course I can hear you. May I come in?"

     "No, not yet. I want you to realize this is all that is happening. I'm going to the other side of the door. You may not see me, but you will hear me and know that I am there. Just on the other side of the -"

     The voice from the bed trailed off. He burst through the door, but the person on the bed had gone permanently still. He had wanted to be there when the love of his life departed. He felt cheated. Cloaked in grief.

     ***

    He planned to skip Christmas. Six months of mourning still didn't seem long enough, so he would forgo holiday celebrations. Too soon to expose oneself to any form of joy. The air on Columbus Avenue was just crisp enough to lift the fragrance of the pine and fir trees for sale along the sidewalk. "You really ought to get a tree."

     He turned up the collar on his coat and continued walking. "Really. Get a tree. How about this one," his voice insisted.

    He stopped to look, but he was convinced his mind was playing a trick on him. His lover's voice must have been conjured by some memory of Christmas past. He stopped in front of the tree. Any other time this would have been the perfect tree. He breathed in the essence. "I know you can hear me. Buy the tree and take it home."

     A young guy in jeans and a shearling jacket said, "If you live in the neighborhood, we can deliver it for free."

     "What? No. Sorry. I was just looking. Sorry." He continued on his way.

     "Hey, Mister!" The guy called out. "You dropped something."

     He looked over his shoulder to see the guy trot a few steps with his gloved hand extended. "Here. This must have slipped off your finger when you were looking at the trees."

     It was his platinum band. After the funeral, it had been relegated back to it's original box and placed in a dresser drawer.

     "Gotta be careful with rings in this cold weather. Fingers shrink. Here you go. Merry Christmas."

     "Keep it," was all he said before he walked away.