Crazy for Christmas

Chapter One

Troy, NH

Kris

It was a last resort . He needed this to stay in good terms with probation. If he didn’t do it and even pretend to like it, he’d wind up right back in the Cheshire House of Corrections, Ray’s, or even the halfway house. His mother would die alone. Still, with every reason to move forward, Kris stood at the edge of the old mill wondering if this was really what his life had come to. It’d been five years since he’d even had the freedom to check out the place. But now, looking at the very same building that had fed his family for generations, he felt nothing other than hatred. If the mill hadn’t closed, his absentee father would have had to send alimony and he wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. He’d still be with Carol and they’d even have a few kids by now. Their daughter would be named Ruby – Carol understood the need to honor true love and it wasn’t like she was exactly a threat anymore. It wasn’t like Carol had ever really loved him either. She’d simply wanted to be with the hometown star that everyone felt sorry for. He knew that as well as she did. He’d be living out by Pelto’s—the town’s best butcher and off the beaten path—and worried about volunteering at the senior breakfast or Helping Hands on the first Saturday of the month. Instead, he was here, contemplating a Santa gig for the worst holiday of the year.

His mother had warned him during their weekly collect calls home when she wasn’t in the hospital or residential care home. She’d told him that things had changed. The town, suffering since the blanket mill shut down, had voted nearly unanimously to do something with the place. The idea was to bring back some sort of a commercial tax base and help people on the edge of losing their homes. At the same time, it was supposed to restore a Christmas spirit the old town had lost years ago after the accident. The accident. It was the bane of his existence. It was why everyone knew him and felt sorry for him. Like a stain on every dream and goal, it was also the reason he’d never wanted to return to the silly little town. But here he was. Anything for his mother and he hoped she knew it; even if it meant facing memories of Ruby.

The sign stood proud and tall the same way it had when the mill was up and running; selling the best horse blankets around. But now, in place of the words Troy Blanket Mills was a cheery sign, lit up in red and white lights that read, The Christmas Academy. And just above it was a sprig of goddammed mistletoe. Yep. Like people are going to stand on the side of the road making out? How cheesy. They’d have been better off making this place into a bar and moving the Dragon Palace and pool tables in here. Ridiculous.

Clearing his throat and spitting his chewing tobacco into the fresh white snow, he leaned against the wooden post. He knew what he had to do but the idea of putting on a Santa costume was less than appealing. He could imagine what his friends from high school, most still in town, or worse, the surrounding towns, would say when they saw him on the town square dressed like a bearded clown. He hated his life. And, if the mill hadn’t closed, he wouldn’t have felt so darn compelled to steal his mother’s medicine. It wasn’t like he was some petty criminal. He’d done what he needed to so she could get through yet another course of chemotherapy. Nothing more, nothing less. It wasn’t like his father had stuck around for long after the diagnosis. Thanks, Dad. And I’m the fuck up? What would Grandpa think? The longer he stood there, thinking about his own history, the more questions came at him. Why Ruby? Why then? Why had his mother gotten sick and why hadn’t he seen it coming? Was the curse finally gone? Was it ever really there or was he as batshit crazy as Ruby? No. Stop thinking about her. And why had the judge had been so hard on him? Fuck if he knew. Probably because he was a ‘Troy-let.’ That’s what the more affluent towns like Swanzey and Fitzwilliam called everyone from his rusty, rural hometown. Either way, there was no point in delaying it—any of it—any further. Mom was running out of time. He didn’t need the stupid curse to see that. He wasn’t blind.

He tucked his chew can in his back pocket and took one last look at the massive building. Where it had once sagged in decay, they’d done a hell of a job patching it up. Gone were the plywood shields that covered broken windows. He laughed, remembering how he and the boys in the neighborhood would go down to the mill to bounce lacrosse balls off the building; a practice that would inevitably turn into a game of who could break the most windows. They used to bet on how many homeless people lived in there, how many drugs the mill’s crumbling walls had seen. Even how many virgins had lost their cherries—not unlike Ruby—inside its dark belly. It was almost sad to see her patched up – gone were the stains of his childhood memories.

He’d rather be on the mortar crew who must have landed a fat bid to patch up her seams. Hell, he’d have taken landscaping or painting her too. But as he walked toward her proud double entrance, it was hard to believe he was merely here to apply for a seasonal Santa gig. He patted his back pocket to be sure his notebook was in there with the chew. He’d have to write this part too and hated himself for it.

Inside, the place smelt like cinnamon. A large sign over a reception desk read, ‘Santa’s Workshop.’ Around it were bits and pieces of old tools they’d salvaged from the throat of the mill. He had to admit that it was cute. But for a tiny town like Troy, he wasn’t exactly surprised. Tired and generally down on their luck, the residents here were a close bunch and were known to do things other, bigger and more affluent towns like Swankey-Swanzey or Krem-Keene would never do. A few years back, they’d turned the town hall into a haunted house. And every year, they decorated the town square with stacks and stacks of wayward scarecrows. He was so busy looking up at the tools and tiny markers that told what they were once used for, he didn’t even see her walk in. It wasn’t until the brunette bombshell cleared her throat and said his name that he turned his attention back to the desk as she finished stammering out the words help you?

His heart beat hard in his chest as he immediately placed her. Noelle Kringle – the regional school district’s sweetheart and a girl too pretty, rich and smart for any of the Troy-lets. Of all the people he’d never expect to find at The Academy, it was her. He wanted to die. With no other choice without looking like a monster, he nodded his head at the cheerful chick whom every guy in his class but him had tried to get with, smiled and simply said, Hey, Noelle. How have you been? Don’t do it. Don’t look her in the eye. It’s not your problem. No women. No curse either. Break it.

Good! I’m on sabbatical. I figured I’d come home and help out for the Christmas season while I was off. How about you, where have you been?

The hell he was telling her he’d just come from his last assigned parole placement. But then, on the job application she’d see it anyway. Of course, he didn’t have to apply for the Santa gig. It wasn’t like anyone was forcing him... Give it up, Kris. She has to know. Everyone does. Don’t even attempt to hide it.

Good. I’ve just been hanging around taking care of Mom, he said, figuring it wasn’t so far off and aware that Noelle knew all about Regina Hall after the last fundraiser at the community center.

Oh. Yeah. How has she been? I’ve been praying for her. Is she in recovery yet?

He shook his head. It doesn’t work like that. Once a breast cancer patient hits stage four, it’s not in the cards. It’s now in three major organs, including her brain. Not a lot of hope there.

She looked at him, confused.  He felt like a kill joy but wasn’t about to lie about it. She’d be fully aware of the obituary and memorial service plans soon enough too. In a town like Troy, there was no hiding anything. And after years of volunteering at Helping Hands, everyone knew Regina Hall.

Terminal. All we do now is treat the pain and hope for the best. He was sure he could see her eyes get wet and couldn’t stand it. Averting his own eyes to the tools again, he figured it best to get it over with. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was to see a pretty girl cry. He refused to be the cause of it. He was nothing like his father or even the guys he hung out with back in high school just wanted to look cool. His time in jail had only affirmed this. If it meant he had to swallow his pride, he’d do it. Anyway, I need some extra money for her medicine. I’m wondering about a Santa application. Got the beard for it I guess, he laughed.

She bowed her head. Kris, I’m so sorry, reaching for a stack of paper at the corner of the white and red striped desk, she pulled one from the top and handed it to him. Fill this out for your information but I’ll make sure you get it. Frank will never say no to this. Is there something I can do to help? I make a great lasagna. I could bring it over.

Imagining Noelle in his mother’s