The Christmas Wreath, John C. Laird [online e reader txt] 📗

something or someone…”

Ben’s smile faded, his face clouded and his eyes seemed to be staring off into the distance, at some point behind Joshua’s head and far, far away.

Joshua leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “What? There was someone, wasn’t there? Someone right for you, someone you were ‘totally happy' with?” He lifted his glass. “Come on, we’re drinking buddies now; spit it out.”

Ben’s pale blue eyes refocused on Joshua. “Back in college, almost…um…forty-five years ago, there was a girl named Judi. That’s Judi with an i.” He poured them both another drink. He was beginning to feel a little light headed. “She was beautiful, personable, intelligent…the perfect woman, you could say…and she was in love with me. Actually, she figured in that ‘special’ Christmas vacation I mentioned a minute ago.”

They both paused as they listened to the rising wind blowing and screeching outside the trailer. A couple of strong gusts actually caused a slight rock in their cozy little island. Ben rose—a little unsteadily—and turned on the propane heater. The trailer wasn’t exactly airtight, and the cold drafts caused by the blossoming winter storm had made it a little uncomfortable. “Sounds bad outside. We both might end up spending the night here, Josh.”

Joshua waited until his host had returned to his seat and then prodded, “You were telling me about this Judi…”

Another drink was poured and Ben continued. “Judi Kennel, a beautiful woman inside and out; a regular chameleon when it came to experiencing life and its vicissitudes.” He hiccupped, shook his head and smiled. “I just love that word, ‘vicissitudes’." He grinned self-consciously and continued. “She was just as comfortable roughing it on a camping trip in the wilds as she was attending the opera or all decked out for a formal dinner— literally at ease any situation. We dated for the better part of a year while I was attending college at good ol’ Long Beach State in California.”

Ben was getting a little tipsy, and his words seemed to be thawing out and flowing more freely. “The southern California college kids loved to head for Mexico in those days for their school breaks, and their Christmas break was no exception—they still called it ‘Christmas vacation’ back then and not ‘winter break' or 'solstice' or whatever—and the young revelers moved in and literally took over the small port town of Ensenada, Mexico, about ninety miles south of the U.S. border. Judi and I went down for a few days in…oh…‘68 or ’69, I guess.”

Joshua didn’t need to prod him anymore; the memories were fully liquid and flowing faster. “We drove down in my little red VW Square Back, just like your car. We spent the days wandering the village and exploring the countryside. At night we joined the other college tourists on the beach and partied hearty around big campfires. Later, Judi and I would zip our over-sized sleeping bags together and spend the cool nights on the sand, the lullaby of the Pacific Ocean singing us to sleep. We’d rise in the morning to the same songs from the sea and start over with a new day…”

A strong gust of winter wind rocked the trailer, or maybe it was just him. He squinted at Joshua H. Cristobal sitting across from him. “Josh, I’m three sheets to the wind—don’t know where that saying ever came from—and you look sober as a judge.” He chuckled at his double metaphor.

Joshua laughed along with him. “I’ve always been able to hold my own. High tolerance to alcohol, I guess. Go on with your story. What happened?”

“She was going to fly back to Ohio for Christmas to see her parents when we returned to the States. She wanted me to go along with her to meet them. We had argued about it several times. I didn’t go.”

“Why?”

“She wanted more from us—a future, I guess. But I was a partying college student, didn’t really know what I wanted or where I was going. Or maybe I was just afraid of where we were going. I was afraid of her, afraid I wouldn’t measure up, afraid I would fail. I just didn’t have the guts to take the chance.” He winced and took a deep breath. “Hell, Josh, to be honest with you I felt that way because I always thought she was too good for me."

Joshua poured them another drink. ““So that was it—end of story? She dumped you?”

“No, when she came back from Ohio, she said she was going to try her hand at modeling in Hollywood. She certainly had the looks for it. She was still upset with me; I think she wanted me to stop her, but I let her go. I blew another chance.”

“And that was it?”

“Nope. She kept in touch. After a year of modeling, she decided to become an airline stewardess, took the training and hired on with World Airlines, strictly an international carrier. She was one of those rare individuals who didn’t just talk about doing something, she actually went and did it. She was based out of San Francisco and had an apartment in nearby Sausalito. She wanted to see the world, and she did.”

Eyes shut, Ben ran his hand back and forth over his forehead, almost as if he were attempting to caress the old memories. “I stayed with her for a week when I was heading to northern California to visit a college buddy. A wonderful week, but the last morning I left while she was still sleeping, never said goodbye or anything. I just left, still running from her, still afraid of her, of us, of happiness, of failure. And so ended another missed opportunity with the most incredible woman I ever knew.” Ben was leaning heavily on the table; his head was sagging lower towards its surface, the whiskey beginning to weigh him down like a yoke.

Joshua shook his head and grimaced. “You’ve got to be kidding. That should have done the trick for her. Dumped and forgot your sorry ass for good, I bet.”

“Nope, nope, nope.” Ben was having some trouble focusing his eyes now. “She still kept in touch, don’t know why. Just an occasional letter, no internet or email back in those technological dark ages. Then, five years later she called me. I had moved back to Michigan and was teaching at Rockwood High by that time. Her flight had been grounded in Detroit because of a union strike, and she was staying at the Marriot near the airport until the contract was settled. She didn’t know how long she’d be laid over, and wanted me to come out to the airport for a drink, to see her. She was all of ten miles away from my apartment."

“This sounds like a great love story, or a romantic movie,” Joshua interjected. “But I have a sickening feeling…”

“Yes sir, Josh, my main man…absolutely right…blew it again. Three strikes and you’re out and all that. Or was it four strikes I had? I lost count. Seven years and she was still there, had never gotten married…what an idiot...what was I thinking…or not thinking.” Benjamin rested his hands on the table, palms up. He was staring at them. “All I had to do was reach out, to grab happiness, to face the love that I’d always felt for her. But no, not me. I wasn’t going to let some risky, dangerous emotion dictate to me…”

He shook his head, almost in denial and disbelief. “I had a date that night, don’t even remember her name. I knew I should’ve dropped everything and run to Judi—taken a chance on making up for all my past mistakes. Instead, I said I’d give her a call the next day. As luck would have it, the airline strike was settled that night and she had to fly out very early the next morning; she left a message for me at the front desk. I got a post card from her a week later, said she was quitting the airlines and moving to Alaska and shipping out on a fishing vessel as a cook. That was my Judi, wanted to do and see everything. I could have gone with her, been with her...shared my life with her…I never answered the postcard. I never heard from her again. I realized that I had been in love with her from the beginning, had always been in love with her, but was afraid that I couldn’t, wouldn’t, measure up. What an idiot I was…there’s never really been anybody else…that’s why I’m alone…”

The old man’s lined face crinkled into a grimace. “I’m sure a shrink would blame it on my dysfunctional childhood—battling parents and their messy divorce. 'Deep emotional scars resulting in a fear of commitment and relationships', or some such bullshit as that. Probably right…too late now…”

Benjamin’s eyes were blurred with tears. “I’ve often wondered whatever happened to her. Did she get married and live happily ever after? Is she even alive?” I tried the Internet searches and stuff, but never came up with anything. He shook his head and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Maybe she’s still waiting for you—somewhere, somehow, another place, another time,” Joshua said.

“What?”

Joshua waved his hand dismissively. “Sorry, just musing out loud, thinking about parallel universes, alternate realities, reincarnation, time travel, all that science fiction stuff.” He took a sip of his drink. “I guess maybe this Judi might be the exception, someone worth going back and doing your life over with.” Joshua drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “Maybe if you could go back with lessons learned, but not with the painful baggage of how you learned them. Something along those lines, anyway.”

“Yeah, if only I could. I think I’ve probably compared every woman I ever met to Judi, and they all came up short. I was just way too slow in realizing things. It took me a lifetime to figure out all the important stuff. Shit, I’m getting drunk.” He hiccupped, covering his mouth with his hand. “Excuse me, my friend; this firewater is getting to me.”

“Come on big guy; let me help you get to bed.” Joshua gave him a hand up and walked him over to the small, fold out twin. He gently helped Ben lie down and managed to get his shoes off.

The old man struggled back up onto his elbows and peered at the bottle on the table. “Let’s have one more drink.” He paused and continued to squint and stare. “Now I know I’m drunk.” “We’ve been drinking all night on a half full bottle, and it’s still half full. Damn…” He flopped back down on the bed and closed his eyes. Within seconds he was snoring.

#

The air was cool on his face, but the rest of his body was pleasantly warm. He inhaled the moist, briny smell of the ocean with pleasure. Even the strident squawking of the sea gulls and ernes circling in the early dawn failed to trouble him, nor did the sand that had aggravatingly managed to sneak inside his sleeping bag from the beach. He opened one eye and peered up at the slate-grey, morning sky. Somewhere behind him the sun was rising, struggling to clear the mountains to the east of Ensenada. Benjamin listened with pleasure to the pounding of the Pacific surf nearby.

He turned his head and saw his clothing piled next to his sleeping bag. They smelled of wood smoke. He remembered the big party around the bonfire the night before; there