The Last Christmas

Every flake that hit his face felt like a cold kiss as Lucas walked through the December night. The storm had made the roads slick and icy. The tires on the bus had lost their grip as the wet snow filled the gaps in the treads. It was only a matter of time before the tires slid over the glazed roadway and on a sharp turn, the bus went sliding off. Lucas had to get home.

The street looked the same as it did the year he and Lucy bought the house. Even the Christmas decorations on the neighbors’ houses looked the same. The Sampsons were still putting out that wooden Santa and sleigh, draped with strings of lights in red and green. The snow drifting slowly over the display twirled and danced in the glow of the twinkling bulbs, then settled down to sleep at Santa’s feet. But Lucas felt no peace, just a tightening in his chest as he remembered the last Christmas he spent at home.

It was a stupid argument. He’d been drinking. It was the only way he knew to avoid feeling the shame and seeing the disappointment on his wife’s face. The layoff from the factory left Lucas with few options for gainful employment. As the months passed he drank more and felt less. Lucy was right to ask him to leave. The kids shouldn’t have seen him like that.

Lucas raised a hand to shield his eyes from the swirling snow only to pull it away quickly as his fingers encountered something sticky and warm. He felt a trickle on his left temple and blinked instinctively. His head hurt and he didn’t know why.

And there was the tree. Lucas had set it up in the big bay window in the front of the house so that all who passed by would know this was a happy family. They should have been a happy family. Lucas let the boys hang the tinsel on the lower branches while he strung the lights. Both Mikey and Stan had begged to be lifted up to place the star on top. Lucas had hoisted one on each arm so they could put the star on the tree together, silencing their siblings’ quarrel. When they are grown and trimming their own trees, will they remember that helping hand, he wondered?

There was a fuzzy halo around the tree when it was all lit up. Lucas walked up the stone pathway that led to the front door. He tried to focus his eyes but everything was becoming hazy. His head hurt and he couldn’t remember why.

It was a stupid argument. He’d been drinking. Lucy was right to tell him to leave, but all Lucas heard was that she wanted him to miss having Christmas with his boys. How could she be so cold to him, her husband, the man that she was supposed to love? She had plenty of smiles for that guy next door. Why was she always flirting with the neighbor? A rage rose within him that blocked her pleading voice and her denials from his hearing as it pounded in his head.

The boys shouldn’t have seen her like that. The memory of her battered face, her features made indistinguishable by the pounding of fists determined to blot out the anger and the pain.

There was a pounding and a pain in his head. Through the broken window, snow fell steadily but no longer melted into the hair that was matted in a scarlet clot that once flowed in rivulets down his face. The bright red spots that spattered his grey prison jacket were freezing before they could turn brown.

“This one is a goner,” a voice pronounced as uniformed guards went through the wreck of the prison bus. “He’s not going to make it.”

Lucas felt the pounding in his head weaken and the pain slipping away until it was gone. His eyes stared into the night as the snow gathered on his eyelashes and brows. All Lucas could see was the light from that star on the top of the tree, flashing like a warning over Lucy’s lifeless body.

It was a stupid argument.

Word Count: 701