| “It’s tough losing a friend when you’re young, especially a childhood sweetheart,” Gloria said. She and Jack sat side by side in their easy chairs, blanketed in the soft glow emitted by the embedded ceiling lights. “Did you ever see Julie again?” “No, but I thought about her often those days,” Jack replied as he diligently worked on his popcorn strand. He paused for a moment, wiggling his fingers to ease the stiffness in his knuckles like a pianist ready to attack a Bach concerto. “I think there were phone calls between my folks and the Almegas for a while. And they’d exchange Christmas cards, but… Well, you know how it is.” © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik “It was a curious coincidence, but my husband Ned had the same name as my first love in grade school.” Gloria smiled as a wisp of a memory stirred. “I had a terrible crush on Ned Mudge in the fourth grade. He once gave me a painted rock paperweight with bits of macaroni glued to it. I was easily impressed in those days!” Jack laughed. “Weren’t we all?” “Then years later I met and married my other Ned. Well, I much preferred the diamond he gave me than that paperweight,” Gloria said, her eyes glistening. “But the rock was a sweet gift nonetheless, though for the life of me I can’t remember what happened to it.” Gloria carelessly swished a finger through the bowl of popcorn in front of her. “Oh, I do miss my Ned, especially at Christmastime. Next summer will be four years, though it seems…” “…like four months?” Jack noted the trace of anguish in her expression, nodding empathetically. “Yes. And on other days like four lifetimes,” Gloria said. “It depends on my mood, I suppose, or the weather. Sometimes the earthy smell of an approaching rain, or the bend of afternoon light through the kitchen curtains as I prepare my dinner will–” Gloria glanced out the window at the climbing moon, wondering when in life she and Ned had last looked upon it together. “A host of things really, and each one affects me differently. Well, you know how it is, too.” © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik Jack glanced over and noticed her hands, still quite smooth as she nimbly continued to work on her popcorn strand. They had both lost their spouses at about the same age and Jack could appreciate the torment Gloria still endured nearly four years after Ned’s death. His own wife Charlene had died twenty years ago, but it took only a short stroll through a handful of memories for Jack to feel the hole still in his heart and the weight upon his spirit, a sorrow never to diminish no matter how many years would separate them between here and the heavens. “The scent from a newly opened bottle of wine always takes me to a summer afternoon on our back stone porch,” Jack fondly recalled. “Will and Elaine were toddlers and Scott hadn’t been born yet. Charlene and I enjoyed a glass of plum wine we had gotten as a gift. Quite good, too. The air was balmy and sunlight filtered through the leafy vines climbing up one side of the porch. We shared a plate of sesame crackers and Swiss cheese, and for some inexplicable reason, Will and Elaine were blessedly quiet playing with their toys on a checkered quilt spread out on the floor. I can still picture Charlene painted in broken shadows as we simply talked and treasured each other’s company for part of an afternoon.” Jack looked into Gloria’s eyes. “It was a splendid day. And though I don’t drink anymore, the whiff of a fragrant wine always takes me to that place. And despite the pangs in my heart, I’m grateful that the memory lingers. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” “Me either, Jack,” Gloria replied with a sniffle. “I think the edges of my memories with Ned have to soften a bit more, but I’m getting there.” She inhaled deeply. “I better not get overly sentimental right now or I’ll be tearing up in my popcorn. I don’t want to make another batch.” © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik “I’ll share mine,” Jack said, holding up his garland strand to examine it. “See? Not bad for an old fogy. It’ll look nice out front.” “I think so. I like a bit of the old-fashioned at Christmastime, Jack. Something you can smell and touch and unpack as a delightful memory later on.” Gloria grimaced. “I never much cared for the insubstantiality of holo-ornaments. And does anyone actually buy and drink that horrendously healthful Edge Nog? I’ll take real eggs, cream and nutmeg, thank you very much!” “They can market anything nowadays,” Jack said, happy to see that Gloria’s brief touch of melancholy was dissipating. “Will your children be visiting on Christmas so you can serve them the real thing?” “Maggie, my oldest, will be here with the family. She’s only an hour away,” Gloria said. “But Jay and his wife will be flying in from Pittsburgh on the thirtieth. We’re having a celebration in Sage Harbor on New Year’s Eve. We’ll say goodbye to 2048 together. Maggie and her family will be back for that too.” Gloria set her garland strand down and grabbed the binoculars on the wooden tray table, again glancing out the window through them and focusing on the city of Sage Harbor along the winding river in the valley below. “It’ll be a special occasion.” “See anything spectacular yet?” Jack asked, somewhat curious as he tended to his popcorn task. “Not yet, but I’ll let you know when.” Gloria lowered the binoculars. “Is the moonlight too bright on your eyes? I can adjust the window tint if you’d like. It’s only set at one.” © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik “No, it’s fine, thank you.” “Are you sure?” “Quite. Any more questions?” Gloria thought for a moment. “Just one. Why are you so fond of the word spectacular? You had used it earlier.” Jack shrugged. “Oh, something I recalled a short while ago had dusted off an old memory, is all.” He swished away the comment with a wave of his hand. “If you say so.” Gloria returned to her chair, set the binoculars down and continued to string. “So tell me more about Sage Harbor. You mentioned earlier that you loved visiting there as a child.” “I did,” Jack said, the recollections of that city gently lapping upon the shores of his mind. “My son Jay enjoyed growing up there too. In fact, one of the things he loved best was–” Gloria looked at Jack. “Well, tell me what you liked most about it, Jack, seeing that you didn’t live there.” “Like I said, Gloria, being from East Oaks made Sage Harbor a sprawling metropolis in my eyes. It always astounded me how such beautiful cities could be planned and built. Solid stone buildings and bridges. Wide landscaped streets. I wanted to play a part in that someday.” Jack leaned back in his chair and grinned. “I remember one summer when I was eleven and my father took me to Sage Harbor on a Saturday. We always stopped at this small café for lunch called The Dancing Chicken. Funny, but I don’t remember ever having chicken there. I’d usually order a burger and a root beer.” © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik Gloria laughed. “Now there’s a name you wouldn’t forget. But I don’t remember a place called The Dancing Chicken when I was growing up in Sage Harbor.” “Oh, that café changed hands many times,” Jack said. “When I used to take my wife and children there in the late nineties it was called the Waterside Café, which made sense, being right across the street from the river.” “Oh, that café.” Gloria nodded. “I’ve eaten there before. But it’s a pricey jewelry store now. Business is booming in Sage Harbor.” “I don’t pay attention to much outside lately. Too attached to this place,” Jack said, rubbing his slippers into the plush carpeting. “Anyway, I haven’t been there in twenty years. Not since Charlene died.” “Is that what you liked best about Sage Harbor, Jack? The Dancing Chicken?” Jack couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, Gloria, but it is a fond memory. What impressed me most was what was next door to the café.” “Oh really?” she replied, briefly eyeing the binoculars, the cold moonlight reflecting off its sleek, silvery surface. “And what was that?” © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik “The Townsend building. Now you must remember that?” “Of course I do. One of the office buildings near the harbor.” Jack smiled. “Fourteen floors of granite and glass. Why, I thought that was a magnificent skyscraper when I was growing up. Guess the revolving door in front impressed me most. Such a beautiful building, though always changing owners and usually in need of repair. When I was eleven, I had notions of refurbishing the Townsend and making it glow. Planned to be a tycoon and live there too. I always looked up at it when I’d walk by with my wife and children years later on one of our visits to the Waterside Café. I was fond of the building even then– which was still in need of repair–but to my eyes…” “…it wasn’t a glorious skyscraper anymore?” Jack nodded. “Fourteen floors weren’t what they used to be when I was eleven. Not that I’m complaining, but I guess certain projects were meant to be finished by others.” He envisioned the blue-tinted snow castle in his windswept backyard. “And some not at all.” “Sometimes in life, second chances present themselves, Jack.” © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik “Oh, I’m too old for second chances, Gloria. And you’re not far behind!” Gloria smirked. “Now don’t go penciling in my name on your actuarial table. Besides, I received a second chance. I got to marry my second Ned, remember?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “Hmmm, you’ve got a point there, Gloria. Maybe there’s something to your theory after all.” © Copyright 2008 Thomas J. Prestopnik |
| ~ CHAPTER 5 ~ |
| A CHRISTMAS CASTLE |
| by Thomas J. Prestopnik © Copyright 2008 All Rights Reserved. |
